Requiem For A Panther
Night Falls on Calla Lillian.
The disappearing act lives under our suspicion.
Minority reports come at us fast, then slow,
god, Father, Roman’s revenge–a natural born killer.
In the name of the father, the trial begins. –Otus Wise
My Mom called out for dad. The sizzling sounds of wood burning continued — competing with Mom’s weeping hoots.
Sylvester! Sylvester, where–
I said: We should check his office. He’d rather burn down with it, than with–
Mom: Otus, that’s not funny!
Still, at Boondocks Boulevard, we all milled about seeking for a small glimpse of hope. Gosh! The dozens of charred critters were like a stampeding herd of wild-eyed cattle. I could not breathe. It was hard to focus.
Two Madayah hauled Gina Catt’s Grams off to the inferno.
Gina pleaded for our help.
No one dared to interfere. Gina scratched and clawed the gray metal machines. She locked her arms around Grams’ waist. Gina said:
“Get your hands off her!”
One of the machines swiftly turned and kicked her in the gut.
Gina tossed back about 40+ feet. (Well, it was more like 15-20 feet. Maybe 10.)
Her body landed on the ground smashed like an accordion.
Her eyes rolled in the back of her head.
I still imagine Gina with that beaming smile when we were little.
We played in the sandbox together. Not really. We didn’t play in the sand–don’t know why I just said that. I stayed home most times my parents visited them. Every once in a while, my mom dragged me by the ear tuft out of the house. This one particular day, Mom’s said:
“You may need that family one day. There’s nothing wrong with socializing. It’s good for ya.”
“Ha! Don’t believe the hype!”
WACK! Convinced my dad had bionic ears; he jetted into my room and whammed me across the face. That was the last time I back talked mom.
Anyway, Gina’s family and mine were thick as thieves, real story — Mom worked closely with Grams, social issues, stuff like that. It feels like an illusion, though.
Welp, that was an inappropriate time to insert a random event from the past. Sorry.
Back to Doomsday.
I couldn’t believe it. Was I the only one paying attention to Gina? I assumed she was corpse-like and felt terrible none of us backed her.
Juvenicia leaders lined up in rows before us. On their knees — hands behind their heads. Their families pushed into the crowd amongst us common critters. Archer Hoar, (the Notorious Koala) swooped in on the back of a Madayah. The Madayah mechanically laid down in the dirt. Archer stood on it to be seen by all. Roman Ivy’s (Boar) protection unit, about three dozen machines, marched him in. Every third soldier faced the crowd.
A NEW God has risen.
Archer stepped off the machine to join Roman.
They were two thieves in the night.
All would remember and mourn this day – the day of the fires – the day the pigs stole power from Juvenicia. A group of Madayah pulled Gina Catt forth to witness. Madayah lined up behind the tribal heads, most from her lineage.
Horrific! Critters moaned, gasped, cried, pushed, shoved.
Someone elbowed me in the face. I fell back into my brother who copped an attitude towards me for stepping on his feet.
It is FINISHED!
On Roman’s command, the Madayah raised their robotic arms and hands in unison (each holding a Kukri — wooden knife). SLIT! Blood everywhere. Bodies toppled over one another.
Immediately following, the surviving Juvenicia members in the crowd were airlifted by Madayah to the unknown.
Oh my god — Gina Catt!
She cried in such rawness; the pain was like a fresh wound. Gina clutched onto a Madayah for support in desperation — it dismissed her, she fell to her knees. Her whole body shook. The wails were muzzled at first as she attempted to control her grief — then she cracked, overcome by the outbreak of emotions–she would break down perfectly, and her armor of strength crumbled in those salty tears.
To be continued.