Felysa's profile

  I was ten when a story captured me, although I didn’t put it into words until years later.
  My dad built a house in a nice neighborhood. We had achres in the back that included what the kids called, the swamp and the forest, which neither were true.
  On one of my many walks through the swamp I came across a cat. It was hanging from a branch by the neck with a shoelace.
  I was alone, there, when I cried. I climbed the tree and untied the dead cat. On the ground I covered it with leaves and sticks.
  I came back to check on him everyday. I watched as the maggots decayed him, and as the snow froze him. I watched until the dead cat was no more.