THE FEEDER
by
K.Woodward
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
K.Woodward on Smashwords
The Feeder
Copyright © 2012 by K. Woodward
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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THE FEEDER
They were looking for the opening, the weakness. This was how they would find a new feeder. The last one, The Feeder, called Maggie, was gone. One day when they came to greet her in the morning, she was cold. Cold like the water that came from the sky, cold like the wind blowing icy fingertips that ran the wrong way up through their fur. Cold was unpleasant; cold was bad.
That morning when they tried to wake her, with soft mewling, she did not move. So they jumped on her bed and rubbed against her feet. Her feet did not move back against them, and rub softly against their sides, as they usually did. They were not warm either. There was no smell of the warm flow of blood under her skin. She smelled different now. It was a different smell and a different sense they felt, as if cool water was sitting like a stagnant pool under her skin.
She did not move and she did not feed. Normally, she would wake up, stretch and say, “Good Morning Mimi, Good Morning Sasha.” She used to call them by these names. They would look at her then, because it was what The Feeder expected and they could feel it when she was “expectant” and they could feel it when she was “satisfied”. Mimi as Margaret called her, was a Russian Blue, with big greenish-blue eyes. Sasha was a Himalayan mix, with white long hair and a beautiful black face and black feet. Her eyes were a lighter blue but just as big as Mimi’s. On that same day, others came and took The Feeder away. She did not come back.
One day when they were lounging on the soft couch, a stranger came of the male scent. He dragged them from their home. He closed the windows, which was their entrance through the top floor window. He nailed shut the doggie door. When they hid under the dresser, the stranger stuck his hand under there and pulled them out by the scruff of their necks just like their mother had many years ago. They slashed at his arms of course but that just made him grab their necks harder and pound down the hallway faster. He threw them out the door with a fury that they had never felt in their lives, angry and uncaring.
Other strangers came and took their beds, their boxes, their soft blankets, and their toys. They watched it all from their perch on a sycamore tree. The place they called home was now empty. The Feeder was gone, the softness was gone, the warm caresses and soft words, were all gone. They were on their own for the first time, ever.
They yearned for the comfort they had always known, the soft cushions against their bodies, the warm air inside, but most of all they wanted the food. They mewled softly to each other, expressing their unhappiness. Their mouths ached for the taste, their eyes were big and luminous with hunger, like a searchlight looking over the water for a lost swimmer. When the time came each day when The Feeder usually called them and fed them, they would become agitated, jumpy, their mouths would moisten with saliva, but there was no food to satisfy them.
Many days went by and they were forced to get food from the dishes of other cats. One day they were so hungry they hunted and killed and ate raw flesh. They chased the little furry food into a corner and grabbed at it with their claws. One of them received a painful bite on her paw. Eating thru the fur and tasting the salty wetness was invigorating but it was difficult. The flesh creatures were hard to find, and they were being hunted by others like them. The others sent them angry waves and hissed. If they entered their territory the others chased them with claws out and teeth bared.
They had to find a new Feeder. It was necessary to quench this unending yearning. They needed a Feeder that would not be able to resist their advances. They didn’t want to waste any more of their energy on the wrong one. Time was precious when you were hungry. They had spent time at other doorsteps and meowed and meowed. They were shooed away every time. They wanted someone that could never turn them away once they bonded, not someone uncaring and angry like the man. They must be safe and never hungry again. They were getting older, their joints ached sometimes. They couldn’t afford to make a mistake. They began seeking as they walked the streets by The Feeders’ homes. They sent out seeking waves, seeking, the “softness.”