There he was. A small bedraggled looking thing. His body awkward and his ginger coat dusty- his spine visible and his flanks sunken. She watched him quietly and ever so slowly tiptoed over to sit on a stepping stone nearby. Of course he had already understood that she was there without looking, cats aren't stupid, they can sense these things but he was unsure of her intentions and so remained quietly guarded and refused to turn around on ceremony. "You look hungry" she said after a while. "Sorry I didn't bring any food." Without a sound, he slowly turned to fix her with a cold, empty stare. She gasped. Never before had she seen such a face on a living creature. Sure, most feral felines issue disinterested, deadpan looks but this cat was different. In fact, it was as if he weren't a cat at all. But something else. Someone else. His face was long and he had an extremely narrow chin. There were dark shadows around his watery yellow eyes, which were large and utterly soulless and his little mouth was pursed tight. The fur below his bottom lip was matted, a strange dirty brown colour ran all the way down his jagged chin and a little snaggled tooth jutted out like a fang.
They regarded each other silently. She chose not to say a word. For what could she say to a face like that?Just then, another small cat appeared, creeping into her vision. He was infinitely mangier than the first intruder, with large tufts of fur missing and his tiny mouth was curled up in a snarl.
"Who is this?" He would have spat in a small, strangled voice, if he could talk. "What does she want in here?". The ginger cat's body language didn't offer an answer and an awkward air hung around the three of them, as they sat in the shade among the sculptures. A short while passed until she worked up the courage to ask "Why are YOU here? This is a place of peace and stillness and death. Two little living things like you should have a nice home to go to". The tabby cat, she imagined, would have scoffed and then whispered in a low hiss "This is the only place we want to be. We are the keepers and forever we will be so." The awkward silence returned between them and so there they sat. Quietly in thought. She wildly ran through images in her head of them leading spirits to their resting places, spending all eternity in the cemetery. She even imagined them sleeping in the vaults with the remains- hence explaining why some of the doors were ajar. All of a sudden, the ginger cat whipped his head to the side as if startled by something and there was a strong, heavy presence in the air. His eyes widened and turned quickly to walk away, the tabby following closely behind him. She didn't ask any questions, she could feel it too and followed them out of the garden of sculptures. They slid into the shadows and she watched them from afar.
"What was that?" She called out to them but they didn't even turn their heads. They simply sat watching and waiting for things she couldn't see and never would in her lifetime. They wouldn't look at her again. They had already said too much, with their bodies and their expressions. Walking slowly away she felt a little sad about the emptiness in their faces towards her. In fact, she was so caught up in thinking about the two curiously cold cat souls that she didn't see the great figure looming over her until she was directly underneath a pair of eyes boring straight down onto her.
Looking up at him, she felt a cold shiver and a familiarity both at the same time. His eyes were vacant but full of something she had already seen that afternoon. Something she couldn't completely understand but knew that one day, she would face and know it's touch, like an old friend.
What an amazing sculpture, by far one of the best she had seen. She took her time to explore him from all angles and to study the incredible detail that the sculptor had so laboriously prepared- perhaps his lifetime's masterpiece?
Underneath the two entwined, lay a faded inscirption:
Así su joven corazón se está apagando
En sus venas su sangre se está enfriando
Y toda fuerza se ha ido. La fé se ha ensalzado
En su caída a los brazos de la muerte. ¡Amén!
"His young heart is thus extinguished.
The blood in his veins grows cold.
And all strength has gone.
Faith has been extolled.
By his fall into the arms of death. Amen".
What a strange but beautiful cemetery. Full of the honesty and silent passing of death, when it finally comes. Her head was thick was thoughts and visions. She placed herself on the stone beneath them and began to write...