The Cat
No parent should have to bury their child. "An innocent soul now rests among angels", read the epitaph. Shrouded in a haze of grief and alcohol, his eyes stared at the tombstone as the early morning dew trickled down its pale surface. And yet, no tears rolled down his dry, bloodshot, dead eyes, for his pain was matched by a fiery, maddening, hell raising rage. As he sipped the last drop, the empty bottle tipped his fury; lashing out, he flung it into the lake, at the swans his daughter so loved. Staggering back to his car, he slumped behind the wheel and drove up to the cliff. It was his first Sunday alone at the top in a long time; after his daughter’s birth to be exact. Gazing at the vista the height offered, he prayed his last prayer – his daughter, wherever she was, may she had this and other vistas to enjoy, the rising suns and pretty twilights. And then, he jumped. Eyes closed, he waited for the crushing embrace of the earth which, to his surprise, never