10/13/2024
Again.
OCTOBER
The cat huddled in an old crate at the back of the alley, shivering. He had been chewing at some chicken bones in the garbage can near the back door of the restaurant before the fat owner came out and shouted at him, scaring him deeper into the alley. A garbage can lid had crashed just in front of him as he ran, hitting his foot.
The cat didn’t understand. He had only wanted food, and they were just bones, with barely any meat on them. Why had it mattered so much?
Night was coming on, and it was cold. The poor cat tried to curl himself in tighter, to keep warm. His foot sang in pain. His fur was a dusty brown, thinning in places where dogs and other cats had bitten him and unkind people had kicked at him, but it was still his fur. Perhaps he would survive the chill in the air tonight, if he didn’t starve to death first.
There was a rustle in the air, and the shadows seemed to thicken. The cat shivered, watching the restaurant door, but no one came out. The shadows lengthened. Leaves blew into the alley, all colored like flames: deep oranges and golden yellows.
The cat stared at them. There were no trees here, because this was the deepest part of the city. Where did these leaves come from?
Slowly, he gathered himself, and limping from his shadowed corner in the crate, he peeked out.
A tall, serenely beautiful woman stood at the end of the alley. Her skin was pale, the color of fresh milk, glowing in the streetlight. Her face was wreathed in a gentle smile, and her eyes were a sparkling green flecked with gold. Her hair was long, colored a bright orange, shining like a candle flame in a pumpkin. She wore a rich purple cloak that flowed and twisted around her like a shadow; not the shadow of darkness and death, but twilight and dusk.
“Come, little one,” she said, beckoning. “I will not harm you.”
“Who are you?” asked the cat.
“I am Autumn,” replied the woman. “I am the death of the Summer, the rebirth of the Fall, and the herald of Winter. This is my time to walk the Earth, to bless the Harvest season and to reawaken the old magics for the season of Samhain and the days of the Hallowed and the Saints. And I have need of you.”
Shadows moved behind her, and the cat saw eyes in the dark. Behind the woman stood what seemed like a pure infinity of black cats. Yellow gemstone eyes glowed brightly, watching, waiting.
“Why would you need me?” asked the cat sadly. “I’m not a magic cat like them. I’m just an ordinary cat, cold and hungry and tired, and my foot hurts. And besides, what there is left of my fur is brown, not black.”
“Brown?” laughed the woman. “Brown is the beginning of everything with me! Brown is the color of earth, where the fruits of the Harvest grow and strengthen all those who partake of my bounty. I have need of a Herald of my own, to announce the coming of my season. I need October, and I have chosen you. If you come with me, you will be reborn anew, and no one will ever harm you again.”
The cat eyed the woman carefully. He limped toward her: one, two, three steps. The woman spread her arms.
And the cat jumped into them.
Purple shadow of twilight closed around him. There was a moment of pain as the damaged bone in his foot quickly knitted itself together and healed, and then it was gone. He felt the sunlight of a fall day: the kind that is warm and inviting with just a hint of chill. He smelled deep spices and crisp apples and caramelized marshmallows roasting over flame. His fur lengthened, thickened, turned from dusty brown to midnight black. He felt his spirit returning, his pain gone, his old life ended, his new life reborn. He felt strong, full, warm.
He leaped from Autumn’s arms to face the black cats, who raised their heads to the sky and howled.
“I am October!” shouted the cat.
“You are October!” shouted the other cats.
“WE are October!” shouted the new Herald. “The Autumn is come! Let us fly!”
Then they were off, bounding down the street in a swirl of gold and orange leaves, as the smoky city air turned rich with Autumn’s laughter.
Later that evening, Gus Meinrich came out of his restaurant’s back door to dump off a bucket of cold fry-grease into the sewer, when something in the dark of the alley yowled and scampered past him. He jumped back, spilling most of the grease onto his huge belly, and fell as a trash can lid shot out of the shadows, barely missing him. As he picked himself up off the ground, cursing, he glanced at the dilapidated wooden crates piled there and saw a dark form with glowing eyes, which hissed at him, leapt from its perch and shot away in the gloom.
