By David Partington

On a sparkling April morning, clean white sheets billowed on the clothesline, robins sang, and lilacs bloomed. Inside, a sunbeam slipped through a gap between the nursery curtains, illuminating dancing dust particles that might otherwise have gone unnoticed. All was quiet as baby Suzanne lay in her crib, guarded by stuffed animals. But the peace was not to last. An orange kitten, driven from the living room by the smell of fresh furniture polish, came slinking down the hallway toward the nursery, its eye caught by a bunny leaning against the crib. With slow, stealthy footsteps, the kitten crept toward it. Crouching behind a box on the floor, it watched the bunny and lay in wait. Too preoccupied with its stuffed carrot, or perhaps frozen in fear, the bunny didn’t move. Seizing the moment, the kitten sprang forward, wrapping its paws around its prey. The bunny fell to one side as the kitten pummeled it with tiny feet. It was all over. The kitten had triumphed, and little Suzanne hadn’t even been disturbed. Shocked by the unbridled brutality, the other stuffed animals stared mutely into space. The merry sunbeam frolicked on the carpet as the kitten now lay its head upon the bunny and fell asleep. 

*   *   *

David Partington is a freelance writer and illustrator living in Toronto. His work has appeared in The Bacopa Review, Jake, Power Cut, Alma, and elsewhere.