The Man and the Tail

The tail wiggled in his hand, thrashing about, trying to get loose.

“Almost there, buddy.” The man muttered.

The streets were dark, no one walking them but the man with the tail. Wind whispered through the trees and a white cat pranced into the road. It stopped and watched the man for a while, eyeing the tail clutched tightly in his fist. When the man reached the end of the block, the cat moved on.

The building on the corner was famous in these parts. Not for what was inside, but for what was outside it. Inside was a boring old corner store with a boring old man who sat there all day, ringing up candy and ice cream while he watched whatever game happened to be playing.

But outside was a whole different story. A mysterious someone whom no one had seen, came in the dead of night some months ago and left behind a sprawling mural. It was a dragon. It was a wolf. It was smoke. It was water and air. It was even fire. But tonight, tonight it was a cat, black and sleek, twisting around to see the space where its tail should have been.

The man stopped to face the cat on the wall and chuckled to himself. “Now how did this end up so far away from your behind?” He asked the cat, holding up the tail in his hand. It thrashed and squirmed harder than ever, almost jumping at the wall.

The man sighed through his smile. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Here you go.” And he reached up and stuck the tail right on the mural.

As soon as the tail touched the wall, the cat sprang to life, its tail reattached, looking good as new. The cat jumped right out of the mural, leaving a sprawling forest behind. A small mouse darted through the brush, then stilled, taking its place in the focus of the mural. The black cat stalked into the street and sat down right in the middle.

Then, out of thin air, walked the white cat. It trotted forwards and paused in front of the black cat. Their noses touched and they rubbed their heads against one another. Then, completely in sync, they turned and walked down the street, shoulder to shoulder, and disappeared.

If there was anyone on the street that night to look around and wonder what had happened, they would notice that the man was gone as well, as if he had never come, and the mouse in the mural looked as if it had been there always.