• Writings From a Past Life: Nights

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    This week’s Writings From a Past Life comes from Lys Tile, who provides the following intro:

    “Since I only started writing fun stories about a year ago, my “past life” isn’t very far in the past. I am currently in college full time, majoring in English. I wrote this little story last semester around Halloween.”



    Seeking ahead. Scanning. Moving closer through the skin chilling dark night. He hunts!  Settle back on haunches behind leafy bush.  Skeletal darkly mottled body stretches up.  Blood red eyes slowly rise above smooth sack with dead leaves. Let air sift between razor sharp teeth to long tongue twitching impatiently, tasting smells in the air for one vital scent.


    He watches her swipe soapy hands on the towel next to the clean kitchen sink and flick the light off before she picks him up. Little light application of sharp claw tips to back of leg always gets attention. He begins to purr when she strokes his fur.  Caught by the silky feel and shine of his superior white coat, she strokes him again.  Mother right. Keep fur clean and neat. Big people can’t resist touching fur; get lots of scratches and pats.

    A particular thick smell.  Snout jerks head around to locate. Big Blood! Intense muttering. Jagged yellow claw at end of scabby long prehensile toe taps ground impatiently turning hapless stick under it into splinters.  What did his dam say about Big Bloods?  Maybe he should have listened instead of giving in to the hunger that day and eating her so soon. Low rasping growl rattles throat.  He could have eaten nest mate instead. Hunger demands! Calculating. Skittering forward again.

    Perci’s chin reaches for the ceiling as she knuckles his throat in all the right spots.  His purring increasing in volume, he melts across her arms.

    “There you go, you big marshmallow,” she coos, putting him down gently, fingers soaking through his fur as he slips out of her hands. “Time to sweep the floors.”

    Contented, he stops to eat just a few bites of kibble. Mother always said overeating makes kitten slow on hunt.  Good kitten stay strong, lean, ready for thrilling charge – into trouble and fun. Stalking gracefully into the brightly lit living room, he finds a comfortable warm spot up by the window for a little nap.

    Hunger.  Such hunger. Steps over snake hole, its carrion breath warning the serpent to slither as fast as it can to deepest, darkest hole where it shivers in fear waiting for the hunter to leave. Hunter moves to bush near door.  How to get in. Can smell it. Blood. Big prey. Drool drops off chin as he thinks of fresh hot blood. He will rule the pack with a kill like this!

    Perci’s head comes up and he listens closely with the same big ears generations of his ancestors have used to catch mice, and rats, and the other vermin like evil Blood Shade monsters big people have trouble seeing. Claws flex. Wasn’t little mouse he heard. Hunting, protecting are duty and joy. Soundlessly, he extends his front legs and lets a warm-up stretch roll from his fluffy tail all the way up through his thick chest. His slitted green eyes begin to glow in anticipation. Continuing her housework, she pulls the garbage sack up out of the can and heads outside.  He drops to the floor behind her, guarding.

    Prey! Attack now! Jump hard to top of big white thing, Claws reach to open juicy vein before prey even knows hunter is there!

    A streak of white levitates, scrambles across the garbage sack and right past her into the yard.  “Percival! Get back here! Blast that cat!”

    NO! Prey has night hunter.  Knife sharp teeth close around the scrawny demon’s neck, breaking bones, tearing the veins apart past any chance of regrowth. Percival’s charge across the bag carries them tumbling to the hard ground. Claws sharp as a sword edge hold the monster as it dies. Percival quickly shreds the Blood Shade monster into just another bit of unrecognizable yard waste.

    Dumping the garbage sack into the trashcan, she mutters about having to chase the cat down the street yet again! She turns to see Perci sitting handsomely by the rose bush cleaning his fur.  “Perci!  Here kitty?”  She steps to the edge of the grass and snatches him up. “Good boy.  You didn’t run away, Percival. You’ve earned a nice cup of milk!”

    His nose sneaks up to give her a happy, dry little slick on the cheek, his raspy tongue making her grimace and laugh.  Every big person should have night hunter partner to keep them safe from hungry monsters that roam the night.


    Lys Tile is a computer programmer going back to school full time to get an English degree. She is working hard to improve her writing skills and hopes to get good enough at telling stories to sell her work someday. She has two grown children.Having had cats around the house since she was a child, she has often wondered what goes on behind their inscrutable eyes. “Nights” is partly inspired by her kitten.

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