The black old lady stretched and yawned, rolling her neck from side to side and blinking her wide, green eyes rapidly to chase the sleep out of them. Her bed was a nest, soft and cozy, positioned inches from the radiator. This should be a good day, she thought to herself. A cheshire grin crept on to her cheeks. As usual, her mind turned to murder.
That nasty little girl, the one they brought here--to her HOME, mind you--the Interloper...certainly that childish little brat was gone by now. Surely! There were traps set all over the house, and she grinned as she imagined the Brat falling into any one of them while the rest of the world slept peacefully. Drowning, electrocution, hanging, poisoned food...any one of those would do. All of them were too good for that kid.
She ambled to the door, stretching again for good measure. She asked to be let in, softly at first, then more insistently. Finally, the door opened, and she darted in. Ugh. What was that smell? Why wasn't everyone crying and wailing over the death of the kid? What was going on anyway?
From behind the door, the kitten jumped onto her back and they rolled, all hiss, teeth and claws, across the kitchen floor. Curses! She was still here! And alive. Another day begins.
The prompt, from Write Starts by Hal Zina Bennett: Find Your Inner Cat.
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