The Broken Mirror

There was a stench in the garden. A deathy kind of stench to be more exact. It smelled like something was very dead and very not intact anymore. Or so he thought. He followed his nose and it led him to a cat which was, just as he had suspected, very dead and very not intact anymore. “Dogs..” he muttered to himself.

It was a nice neighbourhood. It wasn’t a modern neighbourhood, nor was it historic. It was a mix of both. But it was nicely looked after. Manicured lawns, nice flowerbeds, nicely painted walls, fancy pets and the latest lawn ornaments. And then there was the house next to his. It was a beautiful house. Probably. Once. He could only imagine. At the moment it looked like a perfect place to film a horror movie...or an episode on house flipping tv series. Other than that the neighbourhood was great. 

He went back to his house to get some gloves and a trash bag. This was not how he intended to spend his Sunday afternoon. It was starting to rain and he was picking up the pace but then he heard it. Pathetic weak little meows. He knew exactly what that meant. The very dead and very not intact cat had been a mother and now he heard the desperate calls of orphaned kittens. And it was starting to rain. He turned towards the source of the meowing and realised it was coming from what looked to be an old shed belonging to the old creepy house. It gave him goosebumps but he didn’t skip a beat. The fence was an easy jump. The old shed door was crooked and kinda stuck but a good yank solved the problem. 

The rain was now pouring and a thunder came really fast after a flash of light. There were five kittens in the shed. Two orange, two white with orange splotches and one white. Somebody fake-coughed behind him. He turned.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The voice belonged to a tall and thin man that did not look like he was a day over 96. 

He thought the creepy house was abandoned. Well not really, the neighbours told him that it belonged to an old man that now lives elsewhere but wouldn’t sell the place. He never thought he’d ever see this mythical next door neighbour of his yet there he was, fake-coughing at him. “Abandoned.” He said and pointed towards the kittens. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t know there was anybody here. I would have...uh..”.

“Used the gate?” The old man said and he couldn’t figure out if the accompanying smile was one of those fake sarcastic smiles you give to people you'd rather punch or if it was a genuine friendly smile. It was a smile. And it was unsettling him. “Stay right here.” The tone was commanding. He looked on as the man walked through the rain to the old creepy house. “Right, gonna have to explain myself to the police.” He muttered and turned back towards the kittens. He knelt beside them. Two of them were still and stiff. But the other three clung to his hand for warmth. 

To his surprise the old man came back with a basket, a towel and an umbrella. Helped him get the kittens settled in and told him where to bury the other two. Turns out he had a small pet cemetery in a corner of the garden. It was a genuine friendly smile, he decided.

“Is it okay if I bring the cat too? I mean the mother. Found her in my yard. Looks like a dog got her.” 

“Dogs…” the old man puffed. “No one told you about the dogs before they sold you the place, did they?”

“They haven’t.” He admitted. It was true. No one ever mentioned the dogs. To say that the neighbourhood had a stray dog issue was an understatement. There were several packs that he knew of by now and probably more. They prowled at night, expertly hunting in trash cans, terrorising cats and having howling contests with any of the pet dogs that would like to participate. The champion of these contests must have been the neighbour’s malamute. At least he thought it was a malamute, no other dog would do such a grand job at howling. Unless it was a werewolf, but legend says they only howl at full moon. This one howled when the moon was waxing, waning, full, on a holiday trip or covered by clouds. Probably a big fluffy malamute. He kinda wanted to meet it but he hadn’t had the chance yet.

He said goodbye to the tall old man who didn’t look a day over 96 and clutching the umbrella very low to shelter the basket he went home. He placed them near the heater, across the room from the mirror, sat down on the carpet, got his phone out and googled “How to feed kitten.” 

The next day he woke up on the carpet. Three very small kittens huddled to his chest. Peach, the orange one; Egg, was white with an orange splotch on his back; and then there was Garlic who was completely white. He fed them, one by one and moved them to their basket, near the heater, across the room from the mirror. 

He took a plastic bag and a pair of rubber gloves and went out without eating. The rain had stopped but clouds still hung heavy in the sky and the sunrise technically had happened already, but you couldn’t tell. “First thing’s first.” He said to himself as he was walking to the place where the dead cat was, guided by the stench. He was hoping that the rain had kept the dogs away. He didn’t hear them during the night. Even the werewolf-ish sounding malamute was quiet. The cat was still there, still really dead and still really not intact. He put on the gloves and got the cat in the bag. He then went to the old shed, making a point of using the gate instead of jumping the fence. 

The cat funeral in the little pet cemetery in the corner of the garden was attended by the old man that didn’t look a day over 96 and his 5 year old granddaughter who was here for the very first time, knew nobody and was really really bored. “Can I see the kittens?” she asked after what passed as a funeral was done. “Sure” he replied. "After they come from the doctor."

When he got back from the vet it was pouring again. Peach, Egg and Garlic were now in a cat carrier and the car trunk was full with cat food, kitty litter, toys, a cat tree that needed some assembling, three cat beds and a bunch of other stuff. He got the kittens inside first, fed them and then he ventured back into the rain to get all the cat stuff. A while later, as he finally was assembling the cat tree he heard the doorbell. 

It was the little girl from the old creepy house. She was alone. “I came to see the kittens. Can I come in?” She thought for a bit. “Please.” She added proud of herself for remembering.

“Sure. Come in.” He led her to the living room which was now the kitten room.

She knelt down on the carpet next to the basket that was still their bed, near the heater, across the room from the mirror. He brought her a cushion and placed it near the heater so the girl would be warm. She sat on it and he sat on the carpet.

The 5 year old looked on as he was feeding the kittens, one by one, with a syringe, then she noticed the mirror. She saw herself, the kitten basket and a floating syringe feeding Garlic, the white kitten. “That mirror must be broken.” she thought and turned her attention back to the kittens.