Saturday, 17 December 2016
The Plastic Cat
It comes down every Christmas.
Dad says it fell from Santa's sleigh during the great storm and I believed him, until that year Hissing Sid at the Black Bull told me he'd had won it in a game of Rummy.
I hate the plastic cat. I don't why why we still put it up.
Dad says it reminds him of Mum because she fussed over it like it was a real cat. It sits on the mantelpiece and looks at me. He's never like me, because he knows what I did to Mum and why nobody ever found her body.
(C) Ally Atherton 2016
Written for this week's 100 word challenge over at Thin Spiral Notebook. Hosted by Tara Roberts. Give it ago. It's a great way to meet other writers.
Writers' Soapbox. A Facebook group for all writers.