The Cat Who Came to Collect

We raise our hands in salute to our feline friends this National Black Cat Day and acknowledge that Halloween creeps upon us.

Let's find out what they're up to.

Never judge a cat-or woman- by reputation.

Being single and over forty ate at Eleanor Riggs. She lived with the ridicule of Salewood's kids and the "old spinster witch" association-unwillingly.

The witching superstition stuck. STUCK.

"If you're not going to listen, I'll get the Old Grey Lady to put a hex on you," parents would chide their recalcitrant toddlers.

So the Old Grey Lady decided to do a little debunking with--

A black cat from Salewood's animal shelter. Maybe appearing in corners and doing nothing would show them.

It didn't. EVERYTHING happened.

The cat was odd.

It hissed at empty corners. Scratched at cupboard doors and stood sentinel outside her bedroom every night.

It debunked nothing. Ruined everything.

She wanted to return him.

By the end of a week with Eleanor, Salem had driven her absolutely barmy. The neighbourhood kids were rude enough without a lunatic cat joining them.

She invaded Walmart, pounded to the pet section, and purchased a detachable pet gate.

The kitchen it was, for Salem.

That night, she anticipated a peaceful night's sleep. Peace arrived, but brought --

The bedroom door decided to do a creak dance.

Eleanor got up to face her dresser mirror. Her expression remained stiff, but the lady in the mirror...

Grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

"Hey," a low rasp resonated through the room. "Could you turn the heating up? It's way too cold."

Eleanor swung her head round. The armchair had sunk under the weight of a heavy, invisible guest.

She rushed to release the confined guardian. Salem leapt onto the armchair and hissed.

"Ow!" The same voice boomed. After all that, the sentinel was faithful to its duty.

And kept hissing at the visitor, who only seemed to be there. Eventually, he heard the now rather tired-sounding voice.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

Salem finally stopped pouncing and hopped off the chair, looking satisfied with a job well done. It then gazed at her, hissed, and went under the sofa in a huff.

Eleanor bit her lip. So the cat had been looking after her all week. She heard the cry of "witch' in her ears. Then thought of Salem, the cat she had imprisoned.

The neighbours had scoffed. She had imprisoned. She peeked under the sofa.

"Hey, you...sorry. I get what you were trying to do." Then...

A shriek. And breaking glass.

The "voice' had apparently decided that the neighbourhood needed to hear him, including a parent who often told her toddler to avoid "the Old Grey Spellcaster."

Silence suddenly filled the road. Then --

Salem. No one had noticed him chasing Salewood's last ghoul.

The same parent glanced at Eleanor, then quickly lowered her gaze. "Witch or not, your cat has guts."

She looked him up and down and grinned. He did. Odd, helpful guts.

Salem lifted its paw. Eleanor followed with her eyes to a can of tuna on the table.

For Mikeydred's October Challenge

Some mirrors show your face. Others reveal the thoughts, fears, choices and contradictions hidden beneath the surface.

Mirrors of the Mind explores those reflections through stories that look at people, relationships and the unexpected turns that make us question what we thought we knew.

Sometimes, the most revealing thing in a mirror isn't the person looking back. 🪞