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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

John Good

by Sarah


The following is a piece of writing submitted by Sarah on November 7, 2012

The Cat

The Cat
The silvered cat plopped down beside the fence post. The graying clouds looked as heavy as iron. Men in knee high boots and leather tunics scuffed through the mud, sending chunks flying at the cat. Large groups of townsfolk began to accumulate in the wooden seats just outside the fence that bordered a dirt circle. Women and children sat as the men stood behind their families talking amongst each other.
Nothing good comes about a dreary day, thought the cat. The children were playing, though they were probably too young to understand. The mothers watched apprehensively while the fathers told jokes and slapped their guts in fits of laughter. Horses were led to the stables; a fight broke out between two boys, sending one flying into a pile of horse dung.
There were two towers on either side of the fenced circle made of logs and stone. At the top, each had a large cymbal. When it was rung, it started or concluded the ceremony. Most times, the circle was used for weddings or knighting. Today it was meant for nothing worth celebrating, depending on which side you were on.
Long moments passed before the first cymbal was hit. The men stifled their laughter and the children listened to their mothers. The procession started from behind a wall and entered into the circle: one robed man holding a bronze choker, a symbol of his God, and another man holding a walking cane, his symbol of reincarnation. The rest of the Order entered, humming their prayers. The man holding the cane began to sing in a low voice, giving his audience goose flesh.
Everyone stared quietly and respectfully; even the cat stayed put. The crowd took a sharp intake of breath when the guards appeared with a small boy, leading him into the center of the circle. Some children, in recognizing the boy, began tugging on their mother's skirts, but were then shushed. The humming and singing stopped; all that could be heard was the kicking of the stables by the horses.
Animals were smart. They knew things were going to happen before they did. Animals were the natural weather tellers of this time, getting feisty and easily upset before a nasty storm surged in. Farmers dictated their sells around their animals. Crops were otherwise saved by a correct reading of an animal.
John Good had a similar attribute like animals.
A speaker squeezed through and made his appearance at the center of the circle, standing next to the boy. He was elderly; his back began to arch and he was in visible pain from walking. He had more hair in his ears than on his head and his left hand had a small tremor. You could not tell his age, though, if you looked at his eyes. His eyes were the deepest blue and showed more youth than a newborn.
"Today, on this eleventh day, we have gathered...." the man coughed. "Not a day of celebration, but a day we mourn...." he coughed again. "My heart and deepest sympathy for the Good family, whom have since passed on the eighth day and will mourn yet another..."
The cat was on all fours, watching intently.
"This eleventh day we have declared a guilty verdict to John Good, aged eleven years, son of Jacob and Sarah Good. John is convicted of treason..." cough. "murder... witchcraft... and contributing to the teachings of witchcraft and other evils. A declaration of a guilty verdict by these means is punishable by death."
The crowd stirred. Some were outraged that such a young boy be brought to trial for adult crimes; others yelled for him to be burned. But the most peculiar thing, the cat noticed, was John. There was no reaction or outburst on his part. John stared at the cat and the cat stared back.

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