Pet

The neighbors ate her cat. She had never had anything against werewolves on principle, but they ought to have the decency not to eat someone’s pet. Her dear Cuddly Bear had offended no-one. She said as much to her father who rubbed the missing tip of his finger absent mindedly as he promised to say something to the Johnsons. Her mother smirked and left the room. She heard laughing from the kitchen.
“Daddy, please.” It was near impossible to pull his attention away from the television. “They ate him Daddy, and you’re just going to talk to them about it? You should sue them. They’re dangerous. You need to make them move away!”
“Fine, fine pet, whatever you want.”
“And I want a new cat.”
For the first time his eyes left the screen and he brought them to bear on her, but she could match him stare for stare. He sighed his defeat. They would go to the pet store after school the very next day.
She didn’t really want a new cat. She wanted to punish the Johnsons, and everyone, for the old cat. She went to the pet store to pick out bait. It wasn’t a cat that caught her eye though, it was a white rabbit. Its large black eyes gazed unblinkingly at her, boring into her soul and making her squirm. The creature was intolerable and yet her father seemed relieved when she informed him that this and not a cat was her selection. It was completely docile in his hands but wriggled in hers and actually bit her. She hoped it would die in the trap she was laying for the Johnsons because suddenly she hated it. She hated it more than she hated the Johnsons.
At home she gave it food and water only because her father watched her, doting on her new pet as if it were his. She hated him now, too. He liked the beast. He liked it more than he liked her. She grinned to herself at the thought of it being devoured by a werewolf.
That night was a full moon. It was perfect timing. She set the cage with the rabbit just outside the back gate of the Johnsons yard and positioned herself to watch from behind the corner of her own fence. The adults came out first. They snuffled the cage once and then passed by. She stifled a fit of rage at their lack of interest. Her innocent cat had been a fit snack but this hateful creature set out as an obvious gift wasn’t worth it? The youngest boy came out next and he responded even as she had hoped. He rattled and pawed at the cage trying to get in without the maneuverability of proper fingers. Eerily, the rabbit did nothing. It sat and stared as it always had. The boy’s parents woofed impatiently at him and took off. He ignored them finally freeing the rabbit that suddenly tore madly away towards where she huddled watching. The wolf got sidetracked by the wire cage now stuck to his foot and the rabbit made the turn with a good head start.
It stopped in front of her. In horror she watched as it stared seemingly into her in its uncanny manner. Time slowed, the rabbit grew in size and changed it’s shape until it was identical to her, except for the thin silver wire it wore as a necklace, what had been poison meant for the werewolves. It smiled at her now and curtsied cutely. Still black eyes watched her as she shrunk down to the size and shape of the rabbit it had been. Almost as soon as the transformation was complete the boy wolf came barreling around the corner and snapped up the little girl become rabbit. Her fluffy white tail caught in his teeth as he grinned up at the rabbit become girl.
The next day the girl’s father was saddened to discover the loss of the rabbit, but he was overcome with the change in his little girl who now sat docilely in his lap.

In Place

                “Out, out, get out of this house!”

                There was no real voice screaming, and yet, as she paced the length of her small hall, she felt the words as if her bones vibrated out the sounds. It took 10 minutes to get pulled together and loaded in the car. It always took 10 minutes, whatever the weather or baggage demanded. 10 minutes and when that action was over? 20 minutes would get her to the store. She could easily stretch a store walk out for an hour if she wanted. Was that what she wanted?

                While she pressed fingers into the fabric of random articles of clothing in the sportswear section, she contemplated the frenzied feelings that drove her from her house. Her husband lay dead on the floor of the sitting room, his vibrant yellow shirt clashing with the deep meditative blue color scheme. It was the yellow, really, that had made her do it. Yellow was a color that begged violence. The rich explosion of red that now graced the front of his shirt was proof; the vibrant colors blended perfectly. She caught herself counting her steps and stopped, taking a deep breath for calming. In—Inhale, out—exhale. Then she began counting deliberately. The aisle was 20 steps long. How long was 20 steps? Each step about 2 feet, maybe only a foot and a half. 40 feet? 30? She needed food for the rabbit.

                Where were the carrots? The police would come eventually, taking the body away; taking her away. She couldn’t be out of rabbit food when they came for her pet. Animal cruelty is a crime. She needed to be prepared. That stupid yellow shirt. It would have been fine in the kitchen; the color pattern in the kitchen was bright and cheerful. Her teapot was bright red and painted pansies made up the border around the walls. Why couldn’t he have happened on her in the kitchen? Seven, eight, ten…She missed a step, or a number. She couldn’t decide, but the numbers reminded her she did have several tasks she needed to do.             

She pulled out her organizer and, leaning on her shopping cart, made a list:

Newspaper- for obituary

Funeral home

I’m sorry to inform you letters to family

Rabbit food

Coffin shopping

New black dress

New suit for Roy

Bury rabbit

                She reviewed the list and giggled after reading over the last item. She crossed off rabbit and put Roy. Carrots, she’d start with carrots- bright orange carrots to go in the bright kitchen. She really didn’t understand why he’d worn that yellow shirt in her peaceful sitting room. He knew how much it bothered her when things were out of place.

                She passed the aisle for knives on a count of nine, counted backwards two steps, turned and started recounting. They gleamed silver and beautiful in neat rows. She came to an elegant set laid out in a velvety scarlet and she froze. Why had she had the knife in the sitting room? Knives didn’t belong in the sitting room. It was she who had been out of place.