Farewell Murial

• Fantasy
• Fiction
• Short story
• Fable

								
For Bella.

Muriel is gone.

Mikhail opened his eyes slowly, examining the progress the shaft of light he’d been sleeping in had made across the room as he did. Muriel is gone, he thought once more. He did not know why of how he knew this, or question it, any more than he knew or questioned why one breath followed the next. It simply was so.
 
He rose, arched, stretched and began to walk towards the window, luxuriating in the warmth of the sunbeam and watching the falling dust particles as he went. Bounding from the floor to the rocking chair and to the windowsill, he settled himself against the glass pane and sat. His tail curled and straightened as he fixed his gaze to the house next door and waited. It likely wouldn’t be long he thought, though it didn’t matter if it was, waiting was all there was for it. He sighed and closed his eyes. He was patient.

A few minutes later he opened them once more to the sound of an approaching engine. He looked to the road and saw a shimmer of late summer sun off a dusty red car as it ambled over the hill towards the house. It seemed to sag beneath its own weight, as if the car itself had its shoulders slumped as it slowed to a lazy stop in the driveway beneath him. Mikhail watched in silence. 

MAN got out first, with WOMAN step behind, tired resignation on their drawn faces. The bitter scent of grief, mixed with death and sweat floating up to Mikhail on the light summer breeze and his nose twitched. MAN closed his door and walked around to the hood of the car, resting on his fists as he investigated the middle distance. WOMAN wiped her tear rimmed eyes and walked around to her mate. Wordlessly she placed her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. A sweetness mixed with the bitter and tickled Mikhail’s nose once more as he watched MAN silently run his hands up and down WOMAN’s back. They’ll mate tonight. He thought to himself as he watched the pair. The comfort of love lays so close beneath the sorrow, they’ll be surprised by it. 

Then MAN pressed his lips to the top of WOMAN’s hair and gave her a final squeeze. He spoke to her and Mikhail understood only a little of it, as he did with so much of the human tongue, though he grasped MAN’s meaning all the same. WOMAN nodded and turn to the house. MAN went to the trunk of the car, opened it and removed a bundle of blankets. A thin, scent of the very start of corruption wafted through the window and Mikhail winced. He winced again when he saw once small gray paw slip form out of the blankets and dangle limply.  MAN gingerly tucked the limb back inside and then laid the bundle on the side of the driveway as he walked to the garage. Mikahil purred, his tail curled and straightened. Then MOTHER called him with his house name, and he followed the smell of tuna for his brunch.

He returned to the window half an hour later, licking his chops of the oily fish and returned to his perch. MAN was in the backyard, at the place where the tree line met the grass, stripped to the waist, standing astride a freshly dug hole. He was wiping pungent sweat from his brow as he looked down at his work with satisfaction. Nodding, he set his spade at top the pile of earth and bent to pick up the body. He laid it, blanket and all into the grave. Then he took a deep breath and, after a quick glance around to be sure he was alone, he folded his hands and bent his head. Three heartbeats passed and he looked up again, a little abashed. His eyes found Mikhail up in the window looking at him. Mikhail saw the color of his already flush cheeks rise and MAN looked away in a hurry, picking up the spade once more. Mikhail closed his eyes. His tail curled and straightened. It had been a busy morning. 

He was roused by the sound of the grunting, roaring yellow bus arriving in the afternoon. Mikhail watched as BOY launched himself out the door and never stopped moving as he turned bid goodbye to the rolling cacophony. He darted up the stairs three at a time and clattered into the house. A breath passed. Then Two. Then something changed in the air and Mikahil closed his eyes a half second before an explosion of pain and anguish rocked the world. BOY was screaming. The door slammed open, and he ran outside, down the porch steps and to the base of an oak tree with a tire hanging from one branch. He flung himself on the ground and wailed.

Mikhail’s tail curled and straightened. He watched as WOMAN came out and called out BOY’s house name from the door. The pain on her face was now more of the BOY’s than her own. BOY stayed where he was, weeping, unmoved. MAN emerged and placed a hand on WOMAN’s shoulder and spoke softly to her. She heaved a breath and nodded her ascent then went back inside. Mikhail looked back to BOY a moment longer then turned to go mousing.

When we came back BOY was still beneath the tree, but silent now, and sitting crossed on the roots, one hand mindless pushing the tire in a back-and-forth arc, his eyes fixed on a blade of grass. Tears had cut salty canals in the dirt on BOY’s cheeks. Beyond him, the sky had faded from blue to dusky purple. A light flicked on inside the house.  The door opened once more and WOMAN called gently. BOY looked up and nodded. He stood and dusted the dirt from his hands and started back in. He seemed to be dragged across the lawn by a great invisible hand, his head never lifting, all power sapped. The door closed behind him.  Mikhail’s tail curled and straightened.

He waited. Dusk turned to night and night became full dark. Lights first turned on in the houses along the street, then off again. He ate his dinner and curled at the foot of MOTHER’s chair as she sipped her tea. When it was drained, she laid her book on table and patted her lap. Mikhail jumped into it eagerly and rubbed his hand into her palm. He arched as she scratched the sweet spot of his back. Then she patted his head and said, as always, “Goodnight Boxer my love, I’m off to bed. Be a good cat and guard the house for us.” Before she trundled herself off to her room. Mikhail understood little of the words, but knew it was an invocation of love and duty. 

He watched for her light to turn off. Then he slithered out of the house in the secret manner known only to his kind. He took a long breath of refreshing night air, smelling the moonlight and starshine. He glanced up and saw the witnesses in the stars. The Mother and Kitten. The Old Tiger. The Great Saucer. And glimmering beside them all was Great Ball, pregnant and ripe. He kneaded the earth and spun three times, then rolled on the dirt.

A voice came from out of the night. Hail Mikhail well met. 

Mikhail sprang to his feet and looked to the speaker. He smiled. Hail Uriel well met. Shall we meet the pride together?

Pray let’s. We go to bid farewell to Muriel.
Come then.

They walked into the night, towards the spot on the backyard where man had laid Muriel, aware that the night was as much a waking time as day, in a way no human ever would be. The trees rang noisily with frogs and birds. Crickets chirped endlessly in the long grass. On another occasionally it would be a fine night for a hunt with his old friend. Tonight, however the two pilgrims walked in silence. As they did they saw others coming. One. Two. Five. A dozen. A Score. The full pride. Old Azrael with his tawny fur. Sweet Camiel and her two kittens not yet named. The proud Haniel. The beautiful Camael. Young and ancient. Wrothful and wise. The poured over fences and out of bushes and in between trees.

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