I will be posting any short stories that I finish and possibly any of the more philosophical articles I may write. I give you my first offering below. Please feel free to comment.




There is a room, a sitting room, not auspicious but quite plain and simple sparsely furnished but comfortable. There is a small white cat in this room, he is alone. The cat sits down with all legs curled in the centre of the floor. He looks frail and a little too thin, even slightly sickly but still his fur is soft and comforting to touch. There seems to be a look in his eyes of sadness mixed with anger but through it shines a spark of something, something that interests people.

Another troubled person visits this room, this has happened many times before They sit down and see the cat and are intrigued, for there is something unexplainably attracting them and so they coax the cat to them. He doesn’t want to go at first. He is wary. He has been here before and is still here in the middle of the room, but it is in his nature and he goes to them. They love the feel of his fur when they stroke him. It soothes them and takes away their sorrows. The cat lets them stroke him because he loves to feel the happiness they gain from it, to see them better. The person stays awhile and the cat feels happy and purrs with pleasure and the person feels their soul is nourished and full, they are happy. The person then stands up, lets the cat drop from their lap and leaves the room happy and complete

The cat is so hungry, they have left without feeding him again, He feels a little thinner, a little sicker, his fur is a little duller and the pink skin shows in patches. The life in his eyes looks weaker. He has not been nourished in so long now by his visitors. He returns to the centre of the floor and settles down, legs curled in on himself, head down. Waiting. Waiting until the next visitor might come and feed him

Finally another visitor comes. The cat was very very reluctant to move this time. For a long time the visitor sat and tried to get the cat to come up to them. In the end they had to come down to the cat and persuade him and coaxed him with promises of food. However hungry the cat was it was his nature to please so he gave in to the guest and he nourished them as they stroked his fur and played and he purred for them. This visitor stayed a long time; they seemed to enjoy the time so much and gained so much pleasure from him. He was happy to see this and felt good too. This person had brought a bag with them. A big bag of treats. He could smell them, it was so close. His stomach growled with hunger while his visitor smiled and stroked him and filled their heart with love and fulfilment.

The cat could almost taste it as the visitor reached into the bag. Finally he would be fed. Then unexpectedly out of the bag the visitor drew a brush, a clothes brush. Stood up with a start and unceremoniously dumped the cat onto the floor and started to brush away any hairs left on their clothes where the cat had once happily laid. Then the visitor left with their bag of food without feeding the cat. Shocked but resigned to repeat the cycle the cat returned to the centre of the floor. Much thinner, sicker, with the glint in his eye a faint dull memory. Determined not to move from his place should someone else visit. Determined not to, but it’s in his nature isn’t it. And so the thin now shabby hungry white cat sits and waits and wastes away until one day he has no more need for food


©Copyrighted by Colin Ryan (2008)

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