Wicked Realities and 6ft Tall Expectations

Submitted into Contest #277 in response to: Write a story with the word “wicked” in the title.... view prompt

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Fiction

‘Don’t take your dreams too literal’, is what I was always told. So to my surprise when I had to leave him behind … 

The most beautiful cat I’d ever met, long black fur that faded into a soft gray under his belly and at the tip of his tail. He had bright neon green eyes that stared at me in a way that felt familiar, but that I couldn’t quite pin. I ran into him many times on this last minute trip of mine. A small colorful town on the top of a mountain, a town whose name I can not recall. All I remember is the sunset yellow cathedral and bright blue staircases that I’d once ran down. I’d been invited to perform with a group of talented guitarists that I didn't feel up to par. In awe of the skill of their hands and the unison of the six of them as if connected by some invisible puppet line. I saw him sitting by the cathedral’s entrance, ten paces behind me as I admired the guitarists playing their ethereal tune. They greeted me pleasantly and handed me the music I too was supposed to learn. They guided me to a small room -unlit- for me to practice two days before our performance. Next to the room were seven identical ones leading down the darkened hall. Alone I entered it, noticing a single candle placed on top of stacked chairs. Crowded and dusty this shallow room was, but I sat among music stands and piano benches and squinted my eyes to read the dancing notes on the page. My strings echoed at the very touch and I grew more impressed by the acoustics of this small crowded room. With every strum the candle flickered and I could see faint shadows emerge on the corner of the walls. Startled, I heard the distorted sound of an off key piano and a fast rustle under my chair. I quickly looked up to see the silhouette of a large rat reflected on the shadow of the candle. I jumped on my chair and gasped, unable to scream but desperately wanting to be saved. I stood with my fingernails in my mouth, staring at the floor - not for long when my savior finally emerged. He flawlessly jumped off a curtain drawn window seal and captured the rat that now looked small in between his jaws. ‘My hero!’ I exclaimed excitedly, I looked at his familiar neon eyes and smiled. ‘My, you must be 6ft tall’ I said with a light hearted laugh and admiring gaze. I took a deep breath and exhaled with relief, for now I felt safe. He traced around the room before finally settling into a statue like sit beside the stack of chairs. Following his lead, I too sat back down and continued to practice the beautiful tune that still didn’t sound quite as nice on me. But I played and played for what seemed like hours and he still sat patiently listening to my mistakes and frustrations. Though I grew more annoyed at myself I felt endlessly grateful for him, my willing audience. Determined, I concentrated as hard as I could and went through the piece to my best ability and once I was satisfied I looked up to find him gone, the door slightly open and the candle slightly dimmer. Confused and admittedly disappointed I decided to call it a day. I walked out into the dark hallway and back into the main entrance of the cathedral. Alone, in the middle of what seemed like the highest ceiling on earth. That’s how I felt in that moment, completely alone in an open galaxy. I walked down the celeste blue staircase and heard a soft tread not too far behind me. I turned my head hoping to see him again but I saw nothing. I believe I’d come on this trip with two of my friends and we had agreed to meet after my practice to explore this colorful mysterious town. I met them out on the narrow cobblestone streets and though I wanted to tell them about the strange events that had occurred earlier that day, something compelled me to keep this to myself. We explored the town as the sun made its way down and ended up back in the little house we were staying in. The room I stayed in was quaint, with a simple wooden bed frame and nightstand to match, an empty wardrobe, and a large window with thin curtains. I laid on the hard mattress staring at the ceiling with the faint orange light that made its way through the thin curtain cloth. I closed my eyes and all I could think of was green, bright green. I woke up that morning to a soft morning breeze and a runny nose. My thoughts still lingered from the day before, about the music I’d yet to master and about mysterious ‘6ft’. They clung to the cobblestone streets as I walked back to the cathedral’s bright blue steps. Halfway up, and to my delight, I saw him lying sleepily on the cathedral steps taking in the morning sun. Bolded by my excitement, I climbed the steps closer to him until my fingertip could extend to the tip of his nose. The closest I’d ever been to him. His nose twitched and he lifted his eyes, lazily, comfortably. He let my fingertip trace the bridge of his nose and up his forehead until I grew confident enough to sit beside him and scratch his ear. A soft gentle purr is what he gave me. ‘Never leave me alone, 6ft’ I whispered to him. A slow blink was the only confirmation I needed, though it was a half serious remark the rest of the day he always stayed inside a 20ft radius of me. Again in the practice rooms, in the concert hall, in the emptiness of the cathedral, he stayed near me. An enigmatic presence like a gentle shadow, someone to share my thoughts to. I found myself talking to him or looking at him as if he understood the mistakes I’d rectified or the wrong notes I played. Though in my mind he did, I felt as though 6ft truly saw me, maybe even loved me. My eyes became progressively more itchy by the hour and I’d blink so hard I’d see light, and I’d see 6ft’s hair stuck to my clothes. A final rehearsal with the group confirmed my place, the slight counterpart to their harmonious melodies. Though seven is an odd number my role seemed obvious, as it’s always been, the odd one out. A melody that seemed to bounce around the others, not quite in conversation with either one. I waited at the top of the steps as they were all walking out and I quickly asked one of them, ‘do you know who this cat belongs to?’ referring to 6ft who was sitting three steps in front of me. They shrugged, ‘no, but I thought he was yours’. 6ft turned to look at me and I smiled at him, ‘what a mystery you are, 6ft’. He accompanied me down the cathedral steps and I kneeled down to give him a goodbye, I mouthed a kiss and laughed to myself. Feeling a little silly and with a tissue up my nose, I met up again with my two friends and finally told them about my mysterious companion. I described his familiar eyes and his beautiful black and gray fur, I revealed how he’d follow me around all day and admitted my affection towards him. I told them that tomorrow, the day of the performance, they’d all meet to further confirm the unnaturalness of his strangely sweet behavior. The next day I arrived at the cathedral early, in a black dress and anxious about the performance. I stood, alone, near the entrance, reflecting on my short time in this unique town, about my part in the ensemble, and about 6ft. Though my thoughts were interrupted when an older woman approached me. I snapped out of my blank stare and met her in the eyes and gave her a polite smile. She smiled too and said, ‘He likes you, you know. He never approaches anyone and always stays among the shadows. It seems like you two really found each other’. I didn’t need to ask who she was referring to, ‘I suppose so’ I said, blushing a bit, nodding. Her smile grew wider as she asked ‘What’s his name?’. I looked down and giggled, ‘I call him 6ft’. As the old woman and I chuckled softly, we noticed him walking up the stairs towards us. I smiled as he lay in a pocket of sunlight on the otherwise darkened floor. ‘Why don’t you take him with you’, the old woman asked. My smile faded, I sniffled, and a hot tear fell down my face. I stared at 6ft and told the woman, ‘I can’t, I’m allergic.’ I closed my eyes and all I saw was green, bright green.

What wicked realities must one face, when dreams fade and symbols become real? Not knowing the outcome of that fateful performance and separated from a true love. The emptiness that I feel is like a 6ft hole. Who could replace him? Who could compare? Now I’m left to suffer - wicked realities and 6ft tall expectations… 

November 21, 2024 03:33

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1 comment

Tricia Shulist
19:42 Nov 25, 2024

No! Get the allergy shots! He’s your cat! Well, darn, that’s sad. Some people would say, “he’s only a cat,” but anyone who’s ever had a pet knows the truth. Thanks for sharing.

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