Rogue Street Cat

And why you shouldn’t feed them…

Girl – demon
In the shape of a horse.
Germany, lakes and small villages.
Girls’ big dream is to help people across the globe as an On-Horse Healer
Lives in a small apartment at the edge of a forest
Crazy grandfather
Father never there
Aunt helps her most
Works part-time at a pet store as a veteran
Small brother called Ivan

“It was just there, I swear!” Ivan pointed at the small street sign cushioned amongst the wild
branches of the pine needles. The overgrown shrubbery resembled arms, starved and desperate for
company, the antique streetlight throwing long shadows onto the deserted street. “Ivan, please.”
His nervous movements were frantic, excitement and curiosity reflected in his body, his gaze eagerly
trained on the gap in the forest. I really wanted to go inside again, standing in the middle of the
night at the edge of the forest in my PJ’s wasn’t helping my chances for a good night’s sleep. And it
wasn’t going to help me to get my homework done. But little Ivan was convinced there was a
monster hiding on the doorstep of our apartment. So, naturally being the good big sister that I am, I
went out to see what had spooked the little fella. I was hoping for the street cat, or maybe a squirrel
or two, seeing how we were literally at the front step of what I would call “the deep, dark, spooky,
no-go forest.” But I really did not want to be gifted with the surprise of perhaps a wild dog, or better,
a brown bear. So, when I peered at the snapped twigs amongst the branches, I grabbed Ivan’s hand,
and steeled myself to run from whatever creature protruded from the gaps and jumped at our faces.

But when nothing came, I took a cautious glimpse at the gap between the shrubbery. Then I realized
Ivan had been playing in there earlier, and my bad mood smacked me back in the face. “Ivan, don’t
lead me around like this, you think I have time for these stupid games? “I know my strung tone
scared him, because he jolts and looks at me with wide eyes. For just a moment I am charmed by his
Ivan-is when he peers innocently from his long eyelashes, his big blue eyes reflecting the moonlight.
But he and I both know the truth, and I won’t save him the reminder. “Ivan, Dad is too busy to stay
with us, and I have high school. I need to study; I have no time for games. But I promise that
tomorrow morning I can go with you and explore the place. I promise.” He looks disappointed, but I
know he understands. Just yesterday we moved. The boxes still stood in the living room, waiting.
And I didn’t have the time to dig out Ivan’s board games or electronic 2Ds. But I wasn’t really
annoyed at Ivan for being lonely and wanting a bit of fun, my real anger came from the fact that our
Father had just told us about the move a week ago. Spouting baloney that he “didn’t get any
information before now” and that he was “incapable of predicting his company’s decisions.” The
messages on his phone told me something else entirely. His new lover had been begging him to
move to her place. Which also happened to be a 4-hour drive from where we lived, in the middle of
a damn forest. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was clinging onto him like life-support, even
sending him break-up texts if he didn’t message her in time. Just one week ago, she had decided to
leave him for good and he finally broke, running back to her like a loyal puppy. It was pity worthy.
But I guess I am also a bit glad of the move, the kids in my old school at Petersburg were catching
onto to the fact that I took care of an 8-year-old brother in my free time, rather than hanging with
my friends. I have gotten better at hiding it, but I guess it was obvious that someday it would
eventually slip. I guess I did like the place, and the food and apartments were, although expensive,
totally worth it. The golden crust of those macaroon-buns makes my mouth water every time. Not to
mention that cool swimming pool that me and Ivan could go to after I picked him up from childcare,
the one with the slides and the awesome steaming bubble baths. The downside to the Petersburg
was the school. Everyone knew that my Dad never came home except for the weekends, and that I
rejected party’s and BBQ’s because I needed to take of Ivan on the weekdays. That made me the
prone target of all the bully’s in the school. And because I had no friends- all the easier. I guess the
no-friends part is really my fault, though. Although I do have less time to hang with friends, it
wouldn’t be impossible to make time for them here and there- the thing is, I don’t want any. At
least, none like the ones I’ve had so far; the using, backstabbing and inconveniencing ones. I know I
am being a bit picky here, but I really don’t have the time for friends with family drama’s, ones who
get new boyfriends every week, and the ones with too much time, “If only I had…” kind. All that I
hope is that I find a good part-time job, get through high school, and hope that Ivan will get the
chance to as well. Back inside our new apartment, I switch the lights on and stare at the mass of
boxes and furnisher, just waiting to be unpacked. And I know I’ll have to be done first thing in the
morning. I groan- half sigh and manage to get Ivan to bed before I collapse onto the sheets.

One of the “upsides” of living in the countryside is that I can go to something I otherwise don’t the
time for- I can go to a riding stable. Now, I know that it is any girl’s dream to ride a horse, but I have
a particularly bad experience with horses. Bad enough that I never want to ride one again. So, you
can expect my reaction when I get told I’m getting registered as a rider at “Shellie’s Horse Paddock.”
Yep. Reaaal happy. “Look, Essie, there it is!” Dad exclaims. Ivan is bouncing in his seat, eager to get a
glimpse of malicious, wild beasts prancing innocently in the paddocks. We turn into the driveway
and I sigh, climb out of the car and wait for the chance to tell my Dad any great excuse that will jump
into my head and convince him otherwise about his “new brilliant plan.” “Dad, I...uh…can’t ride
horses. I hate them.” I try meekly, my throat sore and non-compatible. “Great!” He exclaims. “You
will find lots of people that are like you, and you’ll have lots of new friends!” I face -palm. Just great,
Essie. Keep it up and he’ll consider signing a life contract so you can live here!