This tale was written based on the following prompts

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #174

What do you see # 139

Twiglet #284

Fandango’s Story Starter #51

Simply 6 Minutes – Welcome to the Challenge: 06/21/2022

Three Things Challenge #997

Three Things Challenge #998

Three Things Challenge #999

Three Things Challenge #1000

Three Things Challenge #M1

You were looking in your desk drawer at that photograph with a such a fond smile, that I was instantly wary, had the lines of reality blurred that much?

The impact of the worrying thought was immediately dispelled by a high-pitched hiss, and instinctively I dropped to the floor and scurried towards kitchen.  You were forgotten as a heavy silence descended, and alarmed I screeched, call an ambulance, find assistance, this is an emergency.

Reaching the kitchen, I paused, but as he followed close on my heels, I turned, the hair on my back rising at his expression. He stood there, book forgotten in his hands, his jaw dropping open like a child, and then came the long-suffering sigh, his expression like a turning page.

How he managed to achieve such a superior expression I have no idea, but it made Simon Cowell look like a rank amateur, and in that moment, I recognized that we had reached a significant milestone in our relationship … he’d forgotten the truth.

Astounded I gaped, how dare he, there was a cadenence to our relationship which required the truth. It made my blood boil, but there was zero I could do about it other than spit my contempt loudly. As he flinched, I held back my purr of satisfaction, instead drawing on my fast-depleting energy to sieze the first. 

She was soiled, but no real harm done, and though it increased my toil, the welfare of the kindle was what truly mattered.

As I trudged back and forth, I thought about his expression as he had stared at the photo. Being proud I could have understood, he’d won awards, trophies and ribbons, but this fondness was just baffling.

Task completed I hopped back up on the desk, unnerved when he reached for my paw.  I think all that experimenting had finally done its damage.  Pulling my hand free I licked it slowly, he was the child he appeared now, and I was his mother … or rather a replica of his mother.

You don’t understand?  Sorry, let me make the introductions. This child is Professor James Moriarty, the little girl is Cruella, and she is definitely not having anything to do with the kittens, and me? I’m Molly, the cat, I reside in a hole left in the middle of his robot, so pleased to meet you Mr Holmes.

© NopeNotPam

24 thoughts on “recycled

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