There she was...my sweet little porcelain doll. Just the head, to be exact. The blood had long since been drained out and my cat had lapped it all up like milk. That had been his practice for a while now. I let him out for the night. He came back in the morning and left his little trophies by the back door. Always female. Always just the head.
One night I watched him dragging one up the willow tree. I chuckled at the thought that both she and the willow wept. I wondered if her tears or blood would nourish its roots. I began to disrobe as he pulled her by the throat up the trunk. Of course her vocal cords were severed by then, but that's all that was damaged. Just the throat. He liked to enjoy the full meal up in the tree. It pleased us both to see the tree branches shake as she fought.
I stood under the willow and let the blood drip down on my face and chest. It was beautiful. He came down carrying just the head in his mouth by the hair--his trophy. He stared at me with big, shiny eyes as if to say, "Here you are father, this is my gift to you." He was the only thing in this world that I loved, my secret mountain lion friend.
We walked home together, side by side. Then he sat with me in my living room and watched me eating crisps from across the room.
This became our routine. The blood bath, then the crisps and the Home Shopping Network.
The refrigerator is getting full with heads now. I am not sure what to do with them, but they are all so fun to look at. Sometimes I will pop out an eye and toss it to the mountain lion. He catches it in his mouth like a grape.
For now, I suppose I'll just keep the heads in the fridge in case he decides I look appetizing one day. Although, since I'm sharing, that is part of the excitement.
Submitted November 08, 2014 at 12:20PM by Sorrymsjacksonwoowoo http://ift.tt/1ouxwhd nosleep
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