Happy 4 Days until Christmas!
I hope you enjoy my freaky, festive flash fiction:
FIR AND FUR.
Trees know it’s wrong to eat cats. And the Snyder’s Christmas tree was no different. But as the cat purred peacefully on the hearth, and the Grand Fir’s sore hacked-off roots ached for comfort, it pondered what cat might taste like. But pondering was all.
It was never the tree’s intention to reach out a garland-coated limb and dangle the silver ornament in front of the feline’s round eyes. It didn’t plan to scoot the glittery orb closer to its trunk, making the cat’s tail flick with curiosity. It didn’t mean to yank the bauble in a looping pattern across the wrapped gifts, so tantalizing the cat couldn’t resist.
The plump hunter pounced, batting at both limb and ornament with a fuzzy white paw.
The tree almost released the bauble then. If it had, five-year-old Brittany wouldn’t cry about the unexplainable disappearance of her kitty. But the gingerbread smells wafting from the oven made the tree quake with hunger. It was a hard transition from squirrel snacks in the forest to living as a lighted household shrine.
They gave Santa cookies. But trees only got cocktails of fluoride-tinted water and corn syrup.
So Muffin the cat would have to do.
Curling it’s branch to a ninety-degree angle, the bauble rolled to the tree’s submerged roots.
The cat leapt. The tree’s trunk stretched wide, sap dangling between the bark like saliva on canines. The maw snapped shut, chomping and grinding on the wriggling belly.
Tufts of fur dappled the tree’s skirt like a morbid virgin snow.
The tree didn’t mean to eat the cat, but oh-boughs-of-holly it tasted good.