Kitty

 A stranger's declaration stirred me from my sleep. 

"It is righteous for the goddess to survive." 

I sat up, bones cracking, and scanned my vast, lonely quarters. Oil lamps burned low, and I second-guessed my sight. A woman in swirling black robes hovered inches above the sandstone floor. Her face was masked in a ram's skull, its twisted horns jutting upward, its blank eyes staring through me. 

"I am no longer a goddess," I replied. "Just a withered queen."

"Your people starve in the streets, and you hide within your palace. Bring the rains," she urged. "Nourish the earth and feed your people."

I returned to my pillows. "I am ugly and old. My people have no love for me. Without their worship, I have no power."

"Which is why I bring you these."

She extended her hands. In one, a bundle of thorny vines; in the other, a vial of shimmering purple liquid. "In this hand, I hold a potion that will bring the rains upon this kingdom and save the people. Your power will return with their praise, but you will never be young and beautiful again.

"In this hand, I offer Barbs of Vanity. Swallow these thorns, and your youth and beauty will be restored for eternity."

My heart exulted. "Then my people will love me once more."

"Perhaps."

"If they love me, I will again become the goddess, and I will heal the kingdom by my own power."

"There may be consequences."

"For me or my people?"

She hovered closer. "You."

I grabbed the Barbs of Vanity and shoved them in my mouth. They sliced my throat as I swallowed. My stomach heaved, I vomited blood, then began to change. 

My muscles contracted around my skeleton, snapping bones into a small, delicate frame. I tried to rise through rhythmic waves of pain and collapsed on all fours. I scrambled across the floor to the full-length mirror, which once reflected a woman of great beauty. Indeed, I was beautiful, but human no more.  

***

I follow a man down the alley, my paws padding silently on the concrete. He cannot feel my presence behind him, but my whiskers sense every living thing around me. Rats scuttle down the alley, and people lead lonely lives on each floor. They watch television while taptaptaping on their phones with nose to screen. They order takeout alone, and the following morning when their bellies are bloated with salt, they ask, Why am I so fat? and dress in shapeless frocks. Then they leave for the day, wondering if they might ever have a glamorous partner, as do the celebrities they stalk on their phones.

I sit, curling my black tail around me. The man's coat collar is half-popped, and the back of his hair stands on end. He juggles a grocery bag with his free arm and fumbles in his pockets for his keys. As he attempts to unlock the door, an orange tumbles from his bag. I imagine citrus juices running down my chin, and I mewl in hunger. The man turns and finds me, sleek and curious, pawing at the runaway fruit.  

He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes. "What a pretty kitty." He sets his groceries on the stoop and crouches to meet me. I saunter to him and drop, rolling onto my back to expose my belly. He chuckles and scratches me. His fingers are warm despite the chill in the air, and I purr in response to his touch. It has been years since I've been properly adored. When he stands, I run the length of my body against his ankles.

"You have got to be a girl," he says.

I reach up and dig my claws into the leg of his jeans, stretching my back. I mewl again, I'm hungry.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asks.

I meow, Some time.

A glint of enjoyment reaches his sad eyes. "All right, then. You come with me." He opens the door, and I strut inside. 

His apartment is compact, lean on furnishings, and sparse in color. Crumbs stick to my paws as I walk, and I leap onto the counter, discovering crusty dishes in the sink. From this height, I can see into the quaint living room. One recliner, covered in green plaid, is positioned before a television. I lick my paw and smooth my whiskers. This is far from the palace of ivory and gold from which I ruled my queendom.

The man shrugs out of his coat, exposing a pudgy belly on a thin frame. He finds me on the counter and waggles a finger. 

"You're a bold one, aren't you?" He scratches behind my ears. I lean into his touch, and he pours his unused affections onto me.

As he pulls a beer from the refrigerator, I spy a bottle of wine in the door. I have been a hungry street cat for so long that my mouth waters at the prospect of such indulgence. The man remains before the refrigerator, running his hands through his hair and standing it on end.

"I don't have cat food, but I do have chicken. Would you like some chicken, little beauty?"

I lift my chin—I am a beauty—allowing the glow of his admiration to fill me. The Goddess within me stirs as I remember what it is to be loved unconditionally. I am full of light and loveliness. Giver of all things good. Prosper those who come to me.

***

We dined under a starry sky, veiled within my floral gardens. Tables were interspersed between patches of lavender and reaching yellow hypericum, and my guests were already well in their cups. From beneath a stone arch emerged my servants holding great platters, compotes, and ramekins. The aroma reached us before the feast, setting our mouths to water. 

The servants laid the feast before us, and I rose to my feet. My guests silenced and turned to me with reverence. I raised a goblet of wine. 

"My people! You share your love that I may live, and I share my harvest and fertility. Tonight, I give you thanks. Please, eat your fill so we may drink into the night!"

They called, "It is righteous for the goddess to survive!"

And I answered, "Prosper those who come to me!"

Joyful conversation rose above the clatter of cutlery. We dug into my abundant harvest feast: Sautéed greens with pickled onions, legs of lamb basted in sweet sauce, and grains and lentils spiced to heat the blood. Dishes of yogurt had been dispersed among the plates, served with dark berries bursting with juice. I piled my plate with food and devoured it. When I was satisfied, I sighed with the comfort of a full stomach. 

As overstuffed guests slowed their feasting, others took to the floor before my table. The drums picked up, and my guests gyrated against one another, screaming praises to the night. The wine flowed, and, rising to their call, I danced from behind my table, skin aglow with their praise.

 I made my way through the gardens and onto the lawn, followed by an entourage of guards. As we rounded the palace, the tall ivory gates came into view. On the other side, a sea of worshipers cried my name. They were thousands strong, dressed richly in robes dyed scarlet, violet and gold. These were only those who traveled from the city. Those in the country praised me from their villages with fertility rituals around handcrafted statues of my likeness. Drunk and overwhelmed by their adoration, I commanded the guards, "Open the gate!"

My people flooded onto the yard, a tidal wave of worshipers. I raised my arms, heart open, and they swarmed me.

I danced among my people, the golden train of my dress torn beneath their feet. Once every hundred steps, I picked the strongest warriors and builders, carved from their laborious duties, and kissed them on the lips. My guards took them into the palace and to my chambers. They would stay with me throughout the year, waiting for the month they would be taken as my lover.

I had a private audience with the men I had chosen. I stalked up and down the line, feeling their firmness and strength. Once I discovered the most handsome of them, I stole him to my chambers. 

"I am a goddess of souls," I whispered in his ear. "When you worship, you give part of your soul to me so I may thrive. When we lie together, I take as much of your soul as I desire. The power I could have if I took without compassion. What I could do to those who disobeyed me."

The warrior's breathing quickened.

"But I am a demiurge of great generosity. I give this energy up to my people so they may swell with child."

"It is righteous for the goddess to survive," he uttered.

"Prosper those who come to me."

***

I am woken by the ring of a phone. The man lifts me off him and places me on the ground. I shake out my ruffled coat and lick my paws. The apartment is dark, save for the light of the television. I watch him through the kitchen doorway. His face is illuminated by the glow of his cellphone against his ear. He talks hoarsely, quietly. 

"I promise I will pay you as soon as I get the money. I'll bring a check when I come to pick up Ella…Put her on the phone, please…I am being civil. I haven't seen my daughter in weeks. I just want to say good night…."

I sneak into the kitchen and rub against his ankles. He picks me up with one hand, phone in the other, and plops down in the recliner. 

"Hello, Ella." He grins. "Daddy misses you… Well, we can go to the park, go out to eat…." Through the phone, I hear a child singing. The man closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are brimming with tears. "All right, it's time for bed. Daddy loves you."

When he hangs up the phone, he sobs into my fur. I purr and allow him to love me. Poor thing. He is as lonely as I am. My soul is weak, alone in the frame of a cat, from which I have not risen since my last lover many years before. My ascent to Goddess did not last; one soul is not enough to keep a deity alive, and I shrunk down to my feline frame once more. The man's tears dampen my fur, and he mutters, "Pretty kitty." He kisses the top of my head, and the Goddess within me is invigorated.

The man starts drinking. Six beer bottles in the recycling bin and ice rattling in a bourbon glass. He watches porn on his cellphone and attempts to masturbate but lapses into tears before completion. I go to him and expose my belly, and his fingers massage firmly into the downy fur of my abdomen. 

Breath toxic with alcohol, he says, "I swear you've given me more affection than my wife ever did." He sobs, placing his head in his hands. 

I leap into his lap. There, there. Love me instead.

"Hey kitty, would you like to stay with me? I could use a pal."

I purr, Only until you give me what I need.

***

A mousy handmaiden curtsied lowly, framed in the doorway to my chambers. I would not have noticed her had I not dropped my favorite gown– iridescent, flowing, and encrusted with crystals along the bust. As I hung it back in my endless wardrobe, I spotted her in the shadows. 

"Goodness, child," I snipped. "You mustn't sneak up on your queen like that." 

"You are full of light and loveliness," she squeaked, bowing her head. "I apologize, my queen, but there is a crisis in the countryside."

"Is there?" I replied. "From my balcony, I see for miles. Our crops grow strong, as colorful as gems."

"On the outskirts. Far from your gracious energy. The crops are failing. The people pray, my lady. They cry out to you."

Though her words reached my ears, they slipped over me and away. "Come, child. I need a feminine eye." I led her to my closet and ran my hands over fine leathers, furs, and satin. "The Harvest Festival is only a few weeks away, and I've nothing to wear."

The child was trembling. "Forgive me, dear Goddess, but our fields were never blessed this year. We were all so consumed with the Grand Bizarre and the feasts and– My queen, there will be no crops to harvest."

I sharpened my tongue. "I nourished the earth with the sacrifice of my own blood. Do you question my power?"

"You are giver of all things good—"

"That I am. And I can take those good things away as easily as I give them. I am not in the habit of punishing my servants but push me, and you will feel my anger."

She straightened her back. "The rot is already beginning to spread. It's consumed hundreds of acres already."

Rage impeded my vision. "Pack your things. Return to your village, and do not pray to me again unless it is for forgiveness." 

While I threw extravagant balls, crops withered. Livestock fell in their barren fields, and when the last of their sinewy meat was gone, so did my people. The severity of my error was lost on me until the once vibrant marketplace was strewn with stinking bodies. 

One hundred years of worship ceased, and time caught up with me. My back hunched, my skin sagged, and my queendom crumbled. I was a fertile goddess turned empty and dry. 

***

The witch loomed over me. Her skull-masked face, etched with ages of decay, lowered to meet mine. I tried to run but was clumsy on my new paws. She scooped me in her arms and squeezed me against protruding ribs. She stank of sage and body odor. I writhed, desperate to break her grasp as she propelled us toward the mirror. It was useless. I was far weaker now than I had been as a goddess. 

"Beautiful," she said to our reflections. "And never will you age. This cat has infinite lives. Worship would have returned you to your goddess state, but you were too vain to see your people slipping from your power." 

I slashed at her face with my claws, only to strike unyielding bone. 

The witch laughed throatily. "Could you even hear their prayers while hiding in your luxury? Your surviving people worship a new goddess now."

She dropped me to the floor. Head tilted back, she lifted her mask, and her robes fell. A blinding light filled the room, and the hideous figure of a witch had been replaced. 

A slender woman lowered herself to the ground. Long auburn hair fell over her breasts, her petite curves on display.

"In the country, the people have dedicated their souls to me, and I have ascended as their Goddess. No one will worship you again."

***

When the man collapses in his bed, I curl up beside him, my whiskers sensing his slowing breathing. Once he snores, I leap from the bed and stretch. 

My limbs lengthen with glorious pain, snapping the reversed joints of my legs, my tail shrinking up my spine. Lush black fur retracts into amber skin, my curves rounding from a bony little body. Cracks echo inside my skull as it fractures and spreads, an exquisite migraine. My thick, dark hair falls over my shoulders, and I stand, a goddess in human form. 

But it is temporary. One man's love is not enough to keep me in this body. The power within me is a spiral of cunning and lust. Ah, a hint of my power. Enough to complete the ritual.

The man's round little belly is exposed and vulnerable as he snores atop his bedclothes. I crawl to him, and he does not wake until I have him straddled and his undergarments around his ankles. Mind muddled with inebriation, he watches me blankly. I lean down and kiss him, purring against his lips. 

He slurs, "Who are you?"

"Pretty kitty."

He touches me, one hand over my breasts, the other rounding my hip. It has been a long time for both of us, and his hands tremble with excitement. When he is good and hard, I take him inside me.

Beneath my breath, I utter the spell, "Come unto me, men. Know from whom the burn of desire flows." 

His eyes snap open. "You are filled with light and loveliness! Giver of all things good! It is righteous for the Goddess to survive."

"Prosper those who come to me!"

He praises every inch of me with his rough hands, and I rise into my greatness. Curvaceous, beautiful, power flowing through my veins. 

"Come unto me, men, and sacrifice your souls. Empower me as your Goddess!"

I grind against his sex as he inches closer to climax. His eyes close, and his lips part. He releases inside me and dies with a smile on his face. 

He twitches as his soul slips from his body to mine. It is a slow, slippery creature that rises through the apex of my thighs to my pounding heart. I cry out, laughing, tears streaming down my face. I have solidified my godly strength a while longer. 

The alley is frigid and dark, but the cold does not touch me. The night is young, and with the fortitude of the lonesome man's soul, I take to the streets, searching for worshippers willing to sacrifice their souls for my beauty. Before the sun rises, I will have a congregation of men at my feet, growing stronger as they praise; It is righteous for the Goddess to survive.