Howl Your Appellations

The Dark Rooms

BOEN OPEOR

Soft was a stray black Birman cat, not brown, dark chocolate, nor seal; she has had jet black fur since the moment we found each other. She was always a marvel in our neighborhood, the mysterious stray black cat that seemed to disappear even within people’s houses. She would prance into people’s houses and demand food, demand with her perfectly circular pupils and her golden irises, so golden that, in fact, some people claim that her eyes seem heavier in a way, as if holding her face was like holding a pot of gold.

She wasn’t a normal cat, but I’m not saying that cats are normal to begin with. Soft just has something that of a higher status compared to other felines, if that makes any sort of sense. In a way, Soft seemed like a runaway prince, choosing to live her life how she wants and never letting anyone tell her what to do. That’s how I like to think she is. Of course, I may be completely wrong, and Soft might just have been an abandoned pet. Which was pretty common around the parts of where I live.

I could never catch a glimpse of her when I wanted to, Soft never visits the mansions and only enters the houses along the hills. On occasion, I’d ask Moze to help me find her, she’s seen her multiple times so on the various times when we’d skip school, I’d ask for us to go on a ‘Soft Hunt’ although, we didn’t call her Soft then, we called her by ‘Monarch’. Everyone practically worshiped her anyway so the name stuck, until I changed her name to something more personal. We never managed to find Soft, the closest we ever go to was when we were at an intricate hodge-podge of houses, alleys and bushes. The houses didn’t look like the standard ones that would normally pop up, and the alleys had ornaments and designs from long gone and forgotten places. We knew we were spirited away by the cat at that point, but there was no doubt that Soft wouldn’t lead us to any danger. She liked the chase, I believe and she never made it easy. Maybe it was her way of thanking us for entertaining her, or maybe we were just lucky enough to experience the world through her shortcuts and pathways.

The year I finally managed to see and hold my now pet cat, was the year I got lost at the observatory again, and came out in an unfamiliar place. I think because of the fallout I had with my sister, I triggered a flight response and ended up in an unknown part of the observatory, a room where I could see the floor in the main lobby through the picture frames and part of the mosaic tiles of the floor. I could hear foot steps and murmurs but I couldn’t see the people making them. I think I glitched at that time, I couldn’t travel properly and I was stuck in there for a considerably long time. Thankfully, there were shelves of books, but it only had names of people in it, a lamp shade and a Camelback sofa. I was too preoccupied with my thoughts about my sister and her expectations of me that the room actually helped me calm down a bit. I sat down, stood up to look at the non-paintings, read through the books of names, and sat down again. Until I finally decided to notice that there was no door. I felt like I was sinking, I didn’t know how to leave so I did the few things that I could think of at that time and screamed my lungs out, I hoped for someone to hear me, but the room was a simply an isolated, unfinished, two-way mirror. I tried tapping, I tried knocking but those methods weren’t working either. And so my final resort was to look for clues in the books. I read three thick volumes of random names that don’t mean anything to me, I was starting to lose hope. I wasn’t confident enough that I could leave the way I arrived, I figured that if I tried, I would glitch a glitch and it would make everything worse. I tried to look around again, turning every frame, looking through every mirror tile. I overturned the sofa, and the bookshelf and that’s when I heard a sound, a small clank, a sound of something that has been misplaced and now has been found. I looked over to see what made the sound, and it was a fountain pen. I immediately dashed to pick up the books and skip to the final pages of the third volume, and there was a space! A final space, perfect for my name to be written in. I made the most audible sigh of relief. Every one of the names before mine has experienced this room, I was not the first one to glitch and something told me that I won’t be the last. When I finished writing my name in cursive, the room disappeared, or I disappeared from the room and my eyes were adjusting to the night I was from. A small regret of mine was the fact that I was standing up while writing in my name, so when I disappeared it’s most likely that the pen rolled under the bookshelf again. Surely the next person will figure it out, since nothing close to a skeleton was in that room after all.

Next, I was in an incredibly lush green forest illuminated by the moon. The moon, at that time, also glowed in a lush green light. I loved the moon since then it was something so familiar, and even more so because Patricar Far would affirm me that the moon is definitely supposed to be a symbol of guidance and hope.

“The blanket white satellite of our earth, the light of our nights---but as for me, the light of my everydays. We're reluctant to give the moon attention during the day, maybe because we're afraid to offend our gaseous sun, but the moon will always be there despite that.” I thought of this quote while I was walking down a narrow path in the forest patch that I was thrown in. I was holding in my fears and tears until I could find something to help me figure out where I was. I was already at a difficult situation before, and there were all kinds of know and unknown beasts in the woods. I walked slowly, carefully and holding my breath. Thinking that I'll make it out somehow, like I always have. Everything sucked, but I managed to postpone the thought until I could lie down on a safe soft bed. My major motivation was to sleep on a bed.

I walked until the green glow, slowly turned to purple and that was where I saw the little lights, little lights in the shape of windows; it was like looking at a city under water, the windows made no sense but they didn't feel ominous, they were inviting even. And as the lights multiplied as I walked, I pushed through the gaps of hugging, wound up trees, and I saw gold.

Eyes as golden as the sun in his prime, and blood as golden as ancient honey rushing through the dark glow of jet black fur illuminated by the purple moonlight. I knew it was the Monarch cat that everyone let into their homes to grace them. I knew, when were staring so intently at each other, that this cat desperatley needed help, but didn't know how to ask.

"You're almost like me." I whisper to help as her golden eyes and wound glisten. I'm still unsure how she injured herself, and I'll most likely never find out. As I stared I inched closer, and the closer I got to her, the more familiar she seemed to be. "You're just like me, aren't you?" I asked softly, "We like to run away, find places to hide and wait for someone to find us. In the end..."

I was close enough to her that I could grab her right then and there but I wanted to tell her something important before I did, or before she could retaliate and run away, "In the end, no one came to look for us. So why don't we start with each other. This time I'll say, 'I found you!' and you'll do the same when you look for me. '' I let my hand graze her fur and she doesn't flich, I choked up and started to sob, "We aren't that similar after all. I'll treat your wound b-but it won't be perfect. Just to stop the bleeding, I'll take you to the vet when we get home safely."

I tied my ribbon as corerectly as I could to stop the bleeding, and when I finished, her blood was the normal ruby red against the cloth. We both fell alseep on the ground, but that night, I felt like I slept on the softest fur in the world, as if I was sleeping on Soft herself. When I woke up, I was in bed in my house and Soft's wound was taken cared of. After that night, 'Monarch' turned into 'Soft' and she never really disappeared like she used to, until we moved to the cabin.

⁂

Something that I've never encountered before, regarding my pet and friend, has happened. Her once fully black fur is now seemingly transitioning to white, her paws are now the color of the snow.

"Soft, what happened? Is this something good or bad?" I ask her. She doesn't seem to be in any sort of pain. She's just trying to wriggle around me while I try to make her look at me. Eventually, she escapes my grip and she starts to sniff and lick my left leg, now metal and stylish. She meows at me loudly and pats my leg, as if asking me the same thing. I give her a smile and tell her that, "I'm fine. I'm okay now." I wait for her to be satisfied, licking my leg and looking at her reflection in the beautiful chrome metal mirror. "We can bond more about our upgrades later. We've got something we need to do, Soft." My Birman cat gives way and we start gathering. She watches me pick up the delicate pieces of wood and stares intently, silently.

I gather the parts on top of a thick table cloth and count them in my head as I do. I trace their form, dents and curves; the shape of their final semblance, just in case. I wouldn't want to forget even one, all of them has their distinct features and it's easy to personify them so as they would be easier to remember. One particular piece is in the shape of a ship, and it's one of the bigger ones; one is shaped like a thunderbolt and it's one of the longest ones; the smallest one is shaped like a sword, only large enough to cover the palm of my hand.There are about 28 pieces all in different shape and sizes, I apologize to them all in different variantions.

The more I familiarize myself with them, the angrier I get. The respect I felt for my Pa, now hurts me. Learning that the relative that I chose to actually like, did something as horrific as to harbor the remains of someone's loved ones and kept it as display for as long as he could is far beyond the feelings of betrayal, disappointment, and anger. And I fear that Beanie, one of the few people who I keep close, might also be aware of this. I should just assume the worst at this point and focus on the task at hand, even if my heart hurts and I just want to hide. The feelings of the wood on my hand, reminds me that someone else feels so much worse.

I finish arranging them in the cloth and slowly drag the cloth like a large bag with fragile gifts inside. The stairs are a pain and in the way but I managed to drag them up and to the foyer. Soft follows behind me, alarming me if something almost falls off or when I'm about to hit something. I reach the front door with a huff, thankfully, I got used to my new leg so I didn't feel too fatigued. There's a small trace of excitement as I open the front door and the wind blows at my face unforgivingly. I survey the area, and I could feel that Imus is patiently waiting just beyond the tunnel.

I walk down the stairs slowly, with the bag over my shoulder. On the ground, they now lay, and it's as if the air is cleaner, less thick. I arrange them in the best circle I can manage, look up and I see Imus already in front of me,

"Are you okay?" I ask him. "Better. There's definitely still something in that cabin." He replies.

"I'll watch the remains, there's a chance that Prince and the other Weres might catch on..." he pauses, "Find the Queen,Boen."

I nod at him and hurried back inside the cabin to face the rooms forever locked. My grandfather's study, his bedroom, and the room with no door. Which room keeps the most important treasure, and how to I enter them without wasting time?

"Meow."

I look down and gaze at Soft's golden eyes. She slowly walks forward, essentially telling me to follow.

"You know the way, don't you?! Either one of the rooms is fine! We're running out of time!"

Soft blinks her eyes slowly and pounces forward, and I follow suit.