The Society of Secret Cats
By De Kenyon
Copyright © 2011 by De Kenyon
Published b y Wonderland Press
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For Fafnir, whose luxurious tail guards my daughter’s sleep.
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Mice are delicious. But even more delicious are monsters, ghosts, and things that go bump in the night. Your mother or father might tell you that they are all in your head and that you ’ re just imagining things. In a way, they ’ re right. Monsters are all in your head.
But you ’ re not just imagining things.
I was inside Jaela ’ s head with a tasty monster called an Aranea, which was dribbling slime and trying to skitter out of the way on its spider claws, when the entire world of dreams shook, as though being shifted around by an earthquake.
The Aranea crawled up the wall of Jaela ’ s dream- bedroom, clinging to the ceiling, too scared even to spit acid at me, as I tried to keep Jaela from waking. It is bad when a dreamer wakes before you have eaten the monster, because the monster might be able to escape the dreamer ’ s head, sometimes for a short time, sometimes for a long time, and cause mischief.
When I was a wee kitten, I let one of her monsters get out, and it threw a tantrum in her room, only disappearing when her parents appeared to find out what was the matter. Jaela hid in a corner and screamed, and wouldn ’ t stop screaming even when her parents asked her what was the matter.
She was punished for breaking toys and writing in crayon strange words in letters and languages that none but those who walk dreams could ever read.
But, even as a kitten, I could read them: Stupid cat.
I was so insulted...and ashamed...that I had to lick my tail for an hour, afterwards. I have never since let another dream escape, no matter how much they beg and plead and say it’s the only way to save their grandmothers from terrible monsters, etc.
Inside Jaela ’ s dream, I purred, trying to soothe her. Sometimes when she woke suddenly, she would look around for a few seconds, and then go b fs ack to sleep as she shifted to a more comfortable position.
Not this time.
As the dream world shook, it changed, becoming less like Jaela ’ s closet, bedroom, house, and city, and more like a forest full of long trees with even longer shadows.
The shaking turned from a constant rumble into footsteps. Some gigantic thing was coming toward us through Jaela ’ s dream, toward her dream-self. She whimpered, squatted down on the moldy leaves of the forest floor, and wrapped her arms around her knees.
“ Shh, ” I told her. “ I will defend you. No monster will hurt you while I am here, my princess. ”
It was not o ften that I spoke her in dreams, for then she always knew she was dreaming.
“ Ferntail? ” she said. “ Where are we? ”
“ I do not know, ” I said.
“ We are in the Great Forest, ” hissed a voice.
I q uickly looked up and saw the Ara nea above us, on one of the trees. I growled at it, and it backed up the trunk.
It laughed through its long teeth at me. “ You ’ ll never catch me here, dream-walker. There are too many ways for me to escape, not like the corner of some bedroom, where you can trap me and eat me. ”
“ Run away, little nightmare, ” I said. “ Lest something bigger come along and snap off your many legs so you can ’ t run