As evening hit and the sun was setting, a curious cat emerged from his hiding spot. The slim black cat hid inside a barrel as chaos consumed the outside just before. He was mostly concealed by the shadows, with only his yellow eyes piercing the darkness from within the barrel.
The cat lived inside the town of Farhallow. It was a quaint town ruled by the king. The king lived in a large castle at the edge of the town, covered in moss and vines showing its age to all who visited. The castle stood tall with the largest doors any had ever seen. The surrounding town was small but fair.
The black cat, called Ari, was given the name by a young man who lived in the village. Ari was well-known amongst the villagers that lived in this town. They lived in buildings made of stone and wood, which they often built themselves. Its roads of stone meandered and intersected among the buildings. The city was full of life and hope, small yet loud. Trees and greenery were scattered throughout the area, giving life to every corner of it, yet none of that existed now.
Ari was not aware of what the man who named him was called but loved him nonetheless. The young man had olive skin and was shorter than most of the other townspeople. His dark hair clashed with the bright colors he often wore, and never once did Ari see him without a smile. He dreamed of being a poet, often writing in his free time. Ari enjoyed knocking over his ink pots, watching the black ink run through the veins of the oak table he called his desk. Cheerful and thankful for everything around, Ari couldn’t have asked for a better friend.
Ari, though, was confused about what was happening when he was hiding away. Only hearing yelling and the sounds of something clashing together. Was it metal? The sound reminded the young cat of its owner getting ready to feed him.
The young man mumbled on as the cat twisted and turned between his legs. Murmuring softly, the cat let out a chirp at the sound of the knife hitting the flesh above. The young cat never knew what meat was given to him, but he always ate it nonetheless.
The man continued on about something as Ari whined in hunger. He didn’t catch anything this morning around town. While it wasn’t needed, Ari was usually seen chasing the local mice away from the shops. Ari was able to pounce through people’s legs and lunge at the mouse before it could let out another squeak. And as he remembered these fond memories with a purr…
Slit.
A piece of meat was cut from the cutting board and fell promptly at Ari’s paws.
Ari shook the dust from his fur, letting it fly into the air. He looked around at what was in front of him. A thick fog of smoke covered most of the distance, but still, he could see what lay in front of him. The stench matched the same as his meals, as it rolled in from the town around him. He softly padded forward, only to hear the clashing return. Quickly darting into a bush nearby, Ari poked out to see hundreds of men walking towards the castle. They all wore what looked like silver plates that were ornate and sinister. Black with golden trim, high shoulder pads that came to a sharp point, and gauntlets that ended with functional spikes at the knuckles. The neck guard flared out, and rose nearly to the top of the spiked helm, more a display of status than function.
As they walked, they produced puffs of ash. Each step created a cloud around their foot. Ari had never seen this much ash before. Ash or smoke. The only time Ari could remember this much smoke was from the baker’s shop. But that was from when he was a kitten.
Ari could hear strange noises coming from the door in front of him. Meowing softly, he poked his head in, the smell of pastries heavy in the air. He had never smelt these smells before. One smell he did recognize though was that of fresh milk. It reminded him of his mom. Ari never knew his mom well. She died early from a sickness, left to rot in one of the bushes in the town.
Soon Ari heard screams and thudding, as the humans quickly rushed around the ovens that seemed to produce clouds thick with gray. Thudding promptly started all around Ari as he quickly felt the vibrations surrounding him, bouncing his small body up and down. He meowed louder as he watched. The humans frantically pushed outside blobs of black into a pan which were thrown out the back window. Is that what humans ate? It didn’t seem appetizing.
Ari reflected over how he would visit this shop with his owner, as he bought fresh bread for his dinner. While it wasn’t something he ate, he often enjoyed watching his owner munch on the bread while he brewed over the soup he made every week. He knew his owner would ponder over his poetry with a mouth full of bread and soup as well, multitasking at any point he could.
The shop that once smelt of pastries now smelt of ash and smoke. Ari bowed his head slightly as he saw men pass by. Once the last of the men left, he quickly followed along, hoping to find out where they were headed. Hoping to find answers as to what all that noise was. As he passed by the shop, he couldn’t hear the usual voices of the humans, as they kneaded out the dough and discussed the news. It usually wasn’t big news, something small like Eleanor getting engaged or the fair happening in town. It was small talk, but small talk was what brought life into that shop.
As he passed by, Ari came to his favorite shop: the fisherman’s shop. He enjoyed coming here every day, and the owner even knew him by name. He remembered when he took naps at the window while the smell of salt filled the air.
Ari remembered how his owner and the fisherman often talked during the day. They seemed to be friends, greeting each other and exchanging fish for money. The fisherman would come over for dinner now and then, seeing the fish he caught be adorned with spices and broth. Ari would get some too.
He licked his lips, excited to get some food after all of the chaos he had heard, only for the shop to be empty. It seemed destroyed, and the counter where Ari used to sit and beg for food was scattered over the floor. It sat in crumbles, and the display case was no better. Glass lay scattered all over the ground, and what was once full of fish was now full of ash. Ari could not smell salt either, only the smell of smoke.
The old fisherman laughed as he came through the door. Ari’s ears picked up the sound of his favorite voice and he ran over to it. He jumped onto the counter and purred. Ari loved it here and wanted nothing more than some fish and a nice nap.
The fisherman spoke to Ari as if he understood. Knowing it was happy news by the sound of his voice, Ari purred even louder as a response. The older man disappeared through the back curtain, only to reappear with a small amount of meat. It fit into the palm of his hands, but it was enough for Ari. Ari chirped and purred more intensely as the older man placed the piece of meat in his paws. The fisherman gave him a pat on the head and with that, promptly disappeared again behind the back curtain.
That was yesterday. Maybe he was still behind the curtain. Ari never knew what happened behind there. Maybe that was where the fish appeared. He followed the path to the back, jumping and twisting through the rubble that lay around him. Once he got to the end, Ari approached the curtains. They hung off a small wooden rod, flowing in the wind that swept through the open door.
Ari meowed slowly, giving a slight tap at the curtain. Its golden lace budged ever so slightly, before falling back into place. Gaining courage, Ari jumped through, dust caking his face. He quickly shook his head, ears flattening as the dust escaped from his fur.
Looking around, Ari saw the old counters that smelled of fish even if no fish was in sight, it clung to the wood, giving the furniture a unique odor. He turned to see the fisherman, lying on the floor. Meowing happily, Ari ran after him.
A friend. Finally, someone to help Ari escape the smoke and sounds. Just as quickly as he ran over, he knew something was wrong. Unmoving, the man lay before him as if asleep. He noticed blood coming from his stomach; it shimmered in the little light that was coming through the holes in the ceiling.
Ari meowed again, hoping to wake the fisherman. He meowed. Meowed more, almost whining. Wanting nothing but a response.
But none was given. Only the sound of wood slightly creaking, and the echo of his own meow.
How would Ari tell his owner? How would he warn him of the death of his friend? Frantically looking around, he tried to come to terms with this news.
Just as it grew silent, Ari heard the soldier’s voices grow louder in the distance, as if they were cheering and celebrating. Not wanting to lose them, he quickly ran back out the door straight for the center of town, leaving behind the fisherman.
Picking up his pace, he weaved his way through the bushes and vines; only to be greeted by a large crowd of soldiers at the center of the town. At the center lay a large fountain carved from gray stone into the shape of a young woman with a pot. The woman held the pot with care, and usually was streaming with water that brought the statue to life. Now it was unmoving, bringing no life to the center. It was adorned with blood as if the woman wore a red dress.
Ari was wondering what everyone was looking at, as they seemed to have all their attention on a stage that sat a couple of feet away from the fountain. Curiosity got the best of him, and he decided to run over to the fountain. Careful not to let anyone step on him, he snaked his way through the many legs and feet that blocked his path. Upon reaching the fountain, Ari jumped up on the lip, not caring now if others could see. He needed to know what was going on. What was happening in this little town he called home.
Careful not to slip, he jumped again and again to the top of the fountain’s head, perching himself over the crowd.
There he saw it, his owner. The man who named him Ari. Who fed him every day. The one who let him snuggle and solemnly read the poetry he wrote, knowing no one would hear besides Ari.
Fluttered in a cage,
Full of ambition and ache–
Freedom only an inch away–
Yet, the want for more, trapped inside a cage.
The people were shouting, and Ari flattened his ears against his head as he saw two soldiers pulling his owner towards what seemed to be a tree stump. The same as the one Ari would fall asleep on as he listened to his owner read aloud something he wrote that morning. The sound of his voice lulled Ari to sleep every day, creating a blissful sleep with dreams full of soft voices.
The flowers grow near,
Sunflowers tower over–
Tortured by this view–
Yet, even so close, trapped inside a cage.
The sounds of bees are here,
They busy themselves with–
The freedom of their wings–
Yet, with these wings, trapped inside a cage.
His owner laid his head over the stump, as a man shouted at him. Ari began to worry, something was wrong. Just as thoughts flooded his head, they were confirmed by a large-looking knife entering his view. It glistened and swang at another man’s hip. Meowing furiously, Ari frantically tried to have anyone hear him, but no voice seemed to answer.
The knife went up above his owner’s head.
Slit.
Hands grabbing at wings,
Tearing the feathers that once adorned–
Once blue like the sky now crimson red–
Yet, even gone, trapped inside a cage.