Ten Hundred Hours

  “I look awful.”  Writer Lady says looking into the bathroom mirror.

  “No you don't Mom.”  Dobby says.  The ginger tabby is sitting in the doorway watching as she goes through her daily grooming routine.

  “Ray?  Hey man, I was wondering where you were today.”   Tinkletoes says making his way to the open doorway.   Realizing his mistake he pales at Writer Lady's saddened expression.

   “I didn't mean it.”  He says.

  Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes.   “Yes you did.”  She looks at herself more closely in the mirror.  “You're right.  I have the same bags under my eyes, the same tired expression, the same dry, frizzy, blonde hair.   I'm turning into Ray.”  She turns back to the mirror, then looks back at Tinkletoes, tears welling in her eyes.  “I'm turning into Ray.”

  Dobby crosses the distance and rubs against her ankles.  “It's okay.  You're just tired Mom.”

  Writer Lady reaches down and scoops up the cat.

  “It's okay Mom.   It's okay.”   He purrs rubbing his head against her face.

  “Thank you kitty.”  She says scratching an ear.

  “Better?”  He asks.
 

  Writer Lady nods and puts Dobby down, quickly wiping away her tears.

  “You shouldn't feel bad Ray's a good guy.  He's always smiling, no matter how tired he is.   Laid back too.”  Tinkletoes says.

  “I know.”  She says.

  “Hey...where is everyone?”  Ray asks, entering the hallway and looking in through the bathroom entry.

  “Whoa...Dude.  It's just like I'm looking in the mirror.  Cool.”

  “I'll be okay.”  Writer Lady manages to squeak out.  She looks at Tinkletoes as she slowly closes the door.

  Tinkletoes knocks on the door.   Writer Lady opens it a crack.  “You haven't had much of a chance to write lately have you?”

  “No.”  She answers.

  “When you get done here, why don't you spend some time in High Command? You might, you know, feel better.”

  Writer Lady nods and closes the door.

  Tinkletoes turns around looks at Ray who is holding an unopened bag of cheese puffs in one hand.  Both kittens are sniffing at the bag with interest.  “There's a cheese puff ban in this house Ray.”   He says.

  “It's an experiment.”  Ray says, lifting the bag from the kittens' reach.

  “Let's wait until the lady of the house says it's all right.”  Tinkletoes says.

The odd sniffle can be heard coming from behind the bathroom door.   The kittens lose interest in the discussion and take off running through the house. First dashing through the living room then returning to the hallway and running over Tinkletoes' feet into High Command up the Big Writing Chair and back down, claws extended for better handling around curves.   The pair bolt out of High Command and make a b line for the bedroom climbing up Writer Lady's headboard pulling threads of the fabric covered board as they go.  Dobby, Tinkletoes, and Ray stand in the bedroom entry watching as the kittens take part in a final battle.   Hanging onto the edge of the headboard, tails flicking in the breeze, the fall to the mattress long and dangerous.  Hey, it seems huge to a kitten.  The fight ends when Spots launches himself skyward (well...the ceiling—skyward sounds cooler) towards the ceiling fan to escape his brother's onslaught.   The kitten flips head over tail finding himself hanging off of the foot of the bed where he lands, holding onto the bed's quilt with the tip of a single claw. 
 

  “So it's an experiment huh?”  Tinkletoes asks looking at Ray.

  “Dude...an experiment.”

  “I think a temporary lift of the cheese puff ban would be okay.  Keep those recruits busy Ray.”

  Ray smiles and nods.  He walks into the bedroom, picks up Spots, and carefully detaches him from the quilt.

 

  “Ray?”  Tinkletoes calls. “Don't tell the High Commander, the General, Her Ladyship.”    He shakes his head.  “Don't tell any females.  This is guy stuff.”

Not getting any response Tinkletoes looks in Ray's direction.  Ray is staring at him with a blank expression.

  “Ray?”   He asks.   Tinkletoes walks over to Ray and snaps his fingers in Ray's face.  Nothing.

  “If anyone asks, it's a training exercise.”  He announces.

  “Dude.  What time is it?”  Ray asks.

  “Ten hundred hours.  You'd better get going.”  He says.

   "Cool."  Ray says nodding and continues his work.

  When Tinkletoes checks on Writer Lady the door to High Command is closed.  He knocks. 

 

  “Yes?”  She calls.

  “May I come in?”

  “Yeah.”  She says, suspending typing long enough to answer.

  He enters, walking into her line of sight and she looks up. “Hi.  How's it going?”  Tinkletoes asks.

  “Pretty good I think.  When I sat down I didn't feel like I had anything to say but...”  She says gesturing to her full screen.

  “Wow.”   He says.  Tinkletoes begins reading over her shoulder his lips moving silently as he reads.

                                                  The Teller

The only way to discover what happened to your wife is to call your brother by his true name.

At precisely nine pm. there was a knock on the door.  She knew that it was precisely nine pm. because at nine pm. she always sat down with her last cup of tea for the evening.  An herbal blend that calmed her nerves and quieted her sensitivities so she could rest.

Not tonight.  On this rainy September evening her visitor, the one that had been lingering on the outskirts of her consciousness for many months made his unexpected entrance, exactly as she had foreseen it.  Cracking the door a bit, Cecily had a gift but not a precise one, and as Grandma had always said those who came looking for the wisdom of a teller were not always without malice in their hearts.

“Are you the teller?”  A voice asked from the other side of the door.

“I am.”   Cecily responded.

“I'm sorry to call so late but I need your help.  It is quite urgent.”

Cecily closed her eyes as he spoke, she listened for inflections in his voice, seeing the colors of his words and sensed his strain.  The fear in his heart.  She was in no danger.

“I was expecting you.”  She said and opened the door the rest of the way.

The fortune teller's words did not fully sink in until after Armand had come through the door.

“You were expecting me?”  He asked as he looked around the room.  “How could you be expecting me?”

Cecily's lips curved up into a brief smile.  “You arrive seeking the help of a teller and asks how she knows things?”

“That is silly isn't it?”  Armand asked.

Cecily smiled briefly.

Armand looked around and took in his surroundings, the modest furniture, the fireplace, the hand sewn throw pillows, the weather beaten looking cat with unusual eyes.

“You are surprised?”  Cecily asked.

“Yes. A bit.”  Armand admitted.  “There are no candles, no exotic looking scarves, no incense.”
 

“No Armand there are not.  No crystal ball either.   I was trained that those are all embellishments, dressings, put out to fulfill an expectation that many have of tellers.  If a client's mind is full of expectation they cannot truly hear what they are being told.”

“Really?”

“It is the philosophy I was raised with.  If it is that way for all tellers that I cannot say but with my bloodline it is.”

“The home doesn't look like the surroundings of such a young woman either.”  Armand said.   “How old are you, twenty-two?”   He asked.

“I am twenty-eight.  This is a family home.  I did not decorate it.”  She answered calmly looking closely at Armand.

She was a pretty woman of average height with coppery hair and amber eyes that competed for his attention.  Armand found himself having trouble finding his words.

  “That's interesting."  Tinkletoes says.  "A little bit redundant at the beginning but still good.” 

  “It's the first page of a first draft.”   Writer Lady points out.

  “How many drafts will you write?”

  “Thousands.”   She exaggerates a bit. 

 

  “Oh...in that case.   It's real good.”

  “Thank you.” 

 

  “I wanted to let you know that everything is moving along normal perimeters.  Everything is fine out there.”

  “The kittens are fine?”  She asks.

  “The new recruits have been contained, reassigned, and are participating in training exercises.”

  Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes and raises an eyebrow.

  “The kittens are fine.”  He says.

  “Okay.   I should stay in here?”  She asks.

  “Stay in here.”

  “Okay.”  She says and continues typing.

  Tinkletoes backs out of the room and quietly closes the door.

  “So did Mom buy it?”  Dobby asks.

  “She bought it.”  He answers.