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Nice Kitty
Nice Kitty (a Lexington Avenue Express short story - 2,250 words)
Something was missing. He was aware of the obvious; the wife and cat had been gone now for nearly a year, the house and car had followed a few months later. He’d felt low after he lost everything but this present emptiness was something else, something else entirely.
He removed his glasses and stared at the spreadsheet on the flat screen in front of him. Without his glasses, the numbers blurred to a smudge. He strained to look deeper into the soul of the grey-white grid and smiled, thinking of a poster of the USS Enterprise hidden in a sea of stars. Where had he seen that?
It struck the window of the sixth floor office with a thump. The only acknowledgment he offered was a slow, deliberate turn of his head. He didn’t expect to see anything more than the glare of a July 4th afternoon. He imagined an errant bird, struggling to recover its composure, flying erratically and wondering; wondering what the hell the world had come to when a harmless flight could be so harshly interrupted by an encounter with the unexpectedly solid. He possessed a special appreciation for dismay produced by the unexpected.
He pivoted on his chair and blinked in mute surprise, his hands frozen, poised delicately on the keyboard. It stared back at him and hung there for a long moment. A snake of dark, viscous something pasted it momentarily to the outside glass before it tumbled from his view.
Rising, he moved cautiously to the window and looked over the ledge. The arc of the falling observer was not visible, hidden by an outcrop of manmade-something posing as granite. He touched the inside of the window. On the outside, a wet, yellowish optic-nerve worm-trail remained, drying quickly in the afternoon glare. He withdrew his hand, suddenly chilled by what he’d seen.
What color had it been? Green, no gray … he looked up. The afternoon sky was crystal clear, no clouds. Was it from a bird, an animal, No! It was far too … large. He scanned the ledge protruding above his window and then shifted his gaze to the slice of blue visible above the neighboring buildings. He saw nothing.
Surely someone else must have … he looked down at the sidewalk visible across the street. Not many pedestrians uptown on a holiday afternoon, but someone else must have seen something. As he watched, a young couple stopped at a trash bin and deposited empty soft drink cups. Identical-twin white-haired ladies approached each other in the angled mirrored-glass of the dry cleaners. The ladies collided and disintegrated at the shop’s entrance before re-appearing, the lady and her reflection moving away toward opposite street corners. How could the city be so quiet?
He looked straight ahead at the spot where the orb had struck the window. The trail was drying quickly, pale yellow edged with blood-black. He shook his head in disbelief and spoke for the first time since the noise had startled him. “Jesus, what the …?” he whispered.
A rush of cool air swept over him as the building’s air conditioning whooshed to life. He crossed his arms bare beneath shirt sleeves and turned toward the office behind him. The fluorescent lights were on but three glass-enclosed offices and an open space configured for clerical staff stood empty. I should do something, he thought. A moment later, strangely excited, he bolted for the lobby elevator that would take him to the street below.
*****
Something was missing. He was aware of the obvious; the wife and cat had been gone now for nearly a year, the house and car had followed a few months later. He’d felt low after he lost everything but this present emptiness was something else, something else entirely.
He removed his glasses and stared at the spreadsheet on the flat screen in front of him. Without his glasses, the numbers blurred to a smudge. He strained to look deeper into the soul of the grey-white grid and smiled, thinking of a poster of the USS Enterprise hidden in a sea of stars. Where had he seen that?
It struck the window of the sixth floor office with a thump. The only acknowledgment he offered was a slow, deliberate turn of his head. He didn’t expect to see anything more than the glare of a July 4th afternoon. He imagined an errant bird, struggling to recover its composure, flying erratically and wondering; wondering what the hell the world had come to when a harmless flight could be so harshly interrupted by an encounter with the unexpectedly solid. He possessed a special appreciation for dismay produced by the unexpected.
He pivoted on his chair and blinked in mute surprise, his hands frozen, poised delicately on the keyboard. It stared back at him and hung there for a long moment. A snake of dark, viscous something pasted it momentarily to the outside glass before it tumbled from his view.
Rising, he moved cautiously to the window and looked over the ledge. The arc of the falling observer was not visible, hidden by an outcrop of manmade-something posing as granite. He touched the inside of the window. On the outside, a wet, yellowish optic-nerve worm-trail remained, drying quickly in the afternoon glare. He withdrew his hand, suddenly chilled by what he’d seen.
What color had it been? Green, no gray … he looked up. The afternoon sky was crystal clear, no clouds. Was it from a bird, an animal, No! It was far too … large. He scanned the ledge protruding above his window and then shifted his gaze to the slice of blue visible above the neighboring buildings. He saw nothing.
Surely someone else must have … he looked down at the sidewalk visible across the street. Not many pedestrians uptown on a holiday afternoon, but someone else must have seen something. As he watched, a young couple stopped at a trash bin and deposited empty soft drink cups. Identical-twin white-haired ladies approached each other in the angled mirrored-glass of the dry cleaners. The ladies collided and disintegrated at the shop’s entrance before re-appearing, the lady and her reflection moving away toward opposite street corners. How could the city be so quiet?
He looked straight ahead at the spot where the orb had struck the window. The trail was drying quickly, pale yellow edged with blood-black. He shook his head in disbelief and spoke for the first time since the noise had startled him. “Jesus, what the …?” he whispered.
A rush of cool air swept over him as the building’s air conditioning whooshed to life. He crossed his arms bare beneath shirt sleeves and turned toward the office behind him. The fluorescent lights were on but three glass-enclosed offices and an open space configured for clerical staff stood empty. I should do something, he thought. A moment later, strangely excited, he bolted for the lobby elevator that would take him to the street below.
*****
9 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 12, 2011
1 person is currently reading
7 people want to read
About the author
Jess Butcher
49 books2 followersJESS Butcher is the author of three Mike Bishop novels, SUN DOG, SIDEWINDER REQUIEM, and MULESHOE. In addition, Butcher has published FINAL THOUGHTS and 17, short fiction anthologies that feature titles from his Lexington Avenue Express series.
All of Butcher's titles are available on the Kindle e-Reader; SUN DOG, SIDEWINDER REQUIEM, MULESHOE and FINAL THOUGHTS are also available in Paperback.
Please note: Lexington Avenue Express and Canal Street Station titles are short fiction. These short story titles range from 1,200 to 4,000 words in length.
You may contact Jess Butcher by email at:
jessbutcher.home@gmail.com
www.jessbutcher-author.com.
All of Butcher's titles are available on the Kindle e-Reader; SUN DOG, SIDEWINDER REQUIEM, MULESHOE and FINAL THOUGHTS are also available in Paperback.
Please note: Lexington Avenue Express and Canal Street Station titles are short fiction. These short story titles range from 1,200 to 4,000 words in length.
You may contact Jess Butcher by email at:
jessbutcher.home@gmail.com
www.jessbutcher-author.com.
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Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
March 10, 2014
NOTE: This review is copied from the one I left at Amazon.
The multiple one-star reviews on the Lexington Avenue Express stories piqued my interest. I'm not certain if the author has since changed the description to include the length of his books (length seemed to be the main bone of contention), but as of 2/14/12 the summary includes the page count, and I downloaded this title aware of it.
That being stated, and as a fan of the short story in general, I thought "Nice Kitty" was pretty good. All in all, the structure was perfect and I didn't get caught up in any misspellings or formatting issues. While I may, or may not, have foreseen the ending, I did reread the last page and a half because I liked the way it tied everything together.
I'd be willing to bet if the author would make some collections of the LAE stories, it would make people feel as though they've gotten more for their money. Maybe each collection could average 100 pages, and price it a little higher? I imagine it would make a world of difference in reviews.
ETA:
Good grief. I was just looking through the author's work and saw that there is an anthology of LAEs already.
The multiple one-star reviews on the Lexington Avenue Express stories piqued my interest. I'm not certain if the author has since changed the description to include the length of his books (length seemed to be the main bone of contention), but as of 2/14/12 the summary includes the page count, and I downloaded this title aware of it.
That being stated, and as a fan of the short story in general, I thought "Nice Kitty" was pretty good. All in all, the structure was perfect and I didn't get caught up in any misspellings or formatting issues. While I may, or may not, have foreseen the ending, I did reread the last page and a half because I liked the way it tied everything together.
I'd be willing to bet if the author would make some collections of the LAE stories, it would make people feel as though they've gotten more for their money. Maybe each collection could average 100 pages, and price it a little higher? I imagine it would make a world of difference in reviews.
ETA:
Good grief. I was just looking through the author's work and saw that there is an anthology of LAEs already.
July 17, 2014
nice!
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews