Fiction by William Falo
You bought a house near Heritage Park, and after feeding your cat Rogue, you walked outside. There was an old man there walking a dog. He waved, and you loving animals walked over to pet the friendly dog.
“Sophie.”
“Yes?”
“I recognize you.”
“From where?”
“You lived here as a child.”
“Yes, ten years ago.”
“How is your mother?”
“Good, she moved into an assisted living place, and I bought the house from her.”
“Welcome back to Marlton and Heritage Village. Do you still have your cat?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Do you remember the war?”
“No.”
“I was there. After it happened, your mother told me what you said that you saw, and I believed her. Do you want to hear about it?”
“Yes, let’s sit on the bench.”
The cawing of the crows got so loud that you thought they were gathering right outside your window. When you looked outside, there were some in the distance, and you saw what looked like an army of cats in Heritage Park behind your house in Marlton.
“Mom, there are cats and crows in the backyard, and I think they are going to fight.”
Your mother mumbled about fever dreams. You were sick and always felt tired lately. They said it could be the flu, but you might need to be brought to the hospital if you didn’t get better. That scared you more than anything. When your mother was in the other room, you opened the window and put pieces of bread on the ledge. One crow always came and ate it. It was always the same crow because it had a damaged wing that hung down, but it could still fly.
You saw the cats coming into the park, and they walked with their heads up, for they knew no fear. Their large eyes saw everything, and their claws cut like knives. You wished there was a way to convince them to go elsewhere, but they never listened to anyone.
The crows ruled the air, but the cats were fast, and feathers floated down after some encounters. It looked like it would go on forever until the leader crow picked out a specific plant, then flew above the cats and dropped it; the cats went crazy and forgot why they were there. They couldn’t resist the catnip. Some ran off, others chased imaginary birds, while others grabbed anything they could find, curled around it, and then kicked at it with their back legs.
Eventually, they all left with a few hisses as a warning that they would be back. You
believed them. They had nine lives.
You saw a man walking a dog.
“You?”
He nodded.
“Your mother said you woke up, and the fever was gone, so you ran to the window and looked out.”
Later, you walked through the park, and the crow with the damaged wing circled above your head. You understood that she wanted you to follow her, and you did until it landed near a bush. Under the bush was a tiny kitten. It meowed and looked at you with sad eyes.
You brought the kitten home. The crow saved the kitten’s life; it would have died out there alone. Your mother was so happy that you felt better, she agreed to care for it and take it to the vet in the morning, and yes, you could keep it. It was a female, and you named it Rogue after your favorite Marvel character.
The next day, you walked through Heritage Park and thought of Rogue the kitten and how the crow saved it, which gave you hope for peace. Soon, you and Rogue were best friends.
Your eyes filled with tears, and you hugged the man.
“Please come for coffee later. I want to ask you more since my mother has dementia. I want to write it all down because I always thought it was a strange dream, and now that I have met you, it has all come true, and that is the most amazing and wonderful thing that has happened to me in a long time.”
“I’m happy I could finally tell someone.”
“Has there been another war?”
“No, but I keep watch, and now I hope you will help guard the park too.”
“I will.” You hugged him again. Above you, a crow cawed, and you wondered if it could be the one with the damaged wing. You knew you would put food out later.
You went home, and with Rogue climbing over your desk, you wrote the first line of a story nobody would believe. The war began in Heritage Park.
William Falo lives with his family, including a papillon named Dax. His stories have been published or are forthcoming in various literary journals. He can be found on Twitter @williamfalo and Instagram @william.falo.
