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writing invitation

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...she was a solitare woman, made more beautiful by her reluctant qualities. for example, she never ever touched wine but once a year for the last 23 years. when she was eight years old, she watched her mother kissed her uncle when her father, a long-suffering man devoted to the ways of catholicism that would make all of the popes blush in shame, was far away across the seas to take care of his younger brother's suicide. of course being a supra-devout catholic, this caused her father great shame. that and his middle brother's rejection of the church of the mother mary.

she watched her mother kissing her uncle, from the quiet steps of the staircase. she watched her mother kissing her uncle, and she heard her mother moaning as his hand went underneath the shirt that her father had brought her on their wedding anniversary. a sky pale pullover, purchased on special from the store in the mall managed by the spanish homosexual. her father always enjoyed his sense of humor, and she enjoyed his immaculate fashion sense. in front of her mother and her uncle were two glasses of wine. no bottle was evident, and she remembered how one glass was half full and the other glass was half emptied. watching her mother, watching her uncle, she remembered a story that she had learned recently in school:

in this story, a cat had swallowed a magickal goldfish name cecil. and each time the cat went to talk with his other cat friends, the spirit of cecil would intercede and teach the other cats such wisdom as:

'we can never know time, but time can always know us...'

the first time this happened to blaze (the magick fish swallowing cat...), he was filled with great embarrassment. but again, he spoke more wisdom to his cat friends:

'...all death comes to kindly suggest to us there are other places waiting for us to visit...'

it wasn't long, of course, before blaze's transformation from common outdoor cat to egyptian cat prophet became well known through the outdoor cat community. a large and secret community, there was also, of course, resentment by the old guard of outdoor cats whom didn't trust any cat that was willing to bestow what they saw as 'dangerous tid-bits' to the other outdoor cats.

'..this blaze', spoke rusty to his loyal followers, '...can only bring shame to our community.'

'..i agree with you my lordship', replied squeakers. squeakers had been rusty's loyalest disciple since rusty saved squeakers from his apparent death/murder one late night in summer years back. the same, however, couldn't be said about squeakers eight other sybils whom perished in that small but efficient white garbage bag left out in the woods, where the pine trees sing by day, and create prose by night....

'..we must eliminate this ...blaze....', rusty declared to squeakers, setting into motion a powerful force that would inevitably consume the outdoor cat community......

but today, she was unable to remember the rest of that school story. besides, she decided, the glass of wine had been sitting long enough in front of her. and her client would be arriving any moment now.

that was when the phone rang.... and she watched her hand, startled by the phone's melodic sing-ring-sing tones, discard her only glass of wine to the smooth hardwood highly polished floors of he kitchen.

the shattering wine glass, in concerto with the phone's sing-ring-sing-ring-ring tones, opened a flood of memories that included the rest of the blaze story:

that story was entitled 'blaze and his magickal words'.