Excerpt of Sabbath's Gift by Marilyn Celeste Morris

The black cat crouched in the tall weeds, tail twitching, yellow-gold eyes narrowing as if in deep thought -- watching as the gray Chevrolet moved past, down the highway into the distance.

She waited until she could no longer hear the noise from the car before she moved, silently, stealthily, from her hiding place.

Only then did the cat turn, eyes focused on the roadway leading to the farmhouse, to her Home and her People. As she approached the house, a sense of disquiet came over her. A restlessness, a vague sense that something had happened there.

She stopped to consider this strange new feeling searching her primal instincts for an explanation.

Yes. A strange Person had entered the House, suddenly, and then there was --A loud, and violent, noise. She had instinctively fled into the countryside, far away from the Something happening at her House.

That had been quite some time ago; she had missed a couple of dinners, and instinct had led her to scavenge at least twice for field mice.

Now, the cat approached the sunroom door and paused cautiously.

Her Mistress and the Man were here, after all-- she smelled their presence. But where? She entered the house through one of the myriad gaps in the foundation, into the former porch turned sunroom. She prowled, circled the room, until she was certain. They were here. Beneath the Room – She pawed at the floor, crying softly.

But if they were beneath the house -- They were No More. The cat ceased her frantic pawing, sat back and stared at the spot.

She lifted her small face to the gentle breeze, and her keen sense of smell detected Something -- something that her primitive instinct registered as Death.

Yes, I remembered the Evil thing that had been here; the Evil thing had taken her People away.

She crouched, pulling herself into a ball, narrowing her green-gold eyes as she processed the information assaulting her senses.

A stranger. Loud noise. Escape.

What had happened here was not good. That much she knew. Her People were No More.

Was this her Gift?

She must go.

The black cat turned away from the House, her Place of Comfort, and emitted a long cry of anguish before she fled once more into the sanctuary of the underbrush.