Golden Eyes, a Short Story

I wake up covered in cold sweat, sick with fear. I know it was just a bad dream, and yet, I have to get up and check her out, just to see she's fine. Barefoot, without turning the lights on even though it's the middle of the night, I walk to her. She opens her golden eyes and looks at me, and I start to breathe, realizing only then I was holding my breath.

Her gaze is calm, so I calm down too. I feel sorry for waking her up, and comfort myself with the thought that she always finds it easy to sleep.

Sleep doesn't come so easy to me, though. I don't even remember the nightmares and don't want to; all I want is for her to be safe, and there's nothing in the world that could guarantee me that. Nothing and nobody could guarantee me that someone wouldn't hit her with a car for the fun of it, or cut her and post the pictures on Facebook or videos on YouTube. People are becoming increasingly angry, increasingly nervous, and many of them like to take it out on those who are smaller and weaker than they are - and she's so small and vulnerable. I tell myself that she has her own strengths anyway, that she is really smart and careful - sometimes even more careful than me! - but that's not enough to comfort me.

Sometimes I think of locking her up, of not letting her go out of the house. There are people who do that, some of them even pride themselves for being careful and reasonable. I couldn't do that to her, though. I couldn't just lock her up and take her freedom away. Even if she lived longer that way, would she be as happy as she is now, free to do what she wants and go where she pleases (within reasonable boundaries, of course - if there's a neighbor with a mean dog, I'm going to yell at her for getting anywhere near that yard, and go ahead and laugh at me for acting silly, I dare you!)?

I lay in my bed, still awake, still afraid for her, when she comes to check me out. Has she heard me? Did I make some noise I wasn't even aware of? Or has she sensed something? I don't know, and at that moment, it doesn't matter. I look at the contours of her small body, at her beautiful golden eyes, and I calm down. There she is, right in front of me, and she's fine. She's perfectly fine.

I make myself comfortable as she jumps on my bed and purrs me to a peaceful sleep.

This story was first featured at Bibliophilic Blather.

Ivana Milakovic: a fearless writer and a passionate storyteller. If you liked this story, feel free to look for more at A Kitty Dreaming About Wings.