Sample Story
This was my first accepted story, and was published in Issue 36 of The Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine. It's long sold out, so this is effectively an exclusive!
Purrgatory (sic)
Humans are always so surprised to find other species in the afterlife - they thought they were the only ones, bless them.There were two humans in the line at the Purry Gates that morning. The first was an impressive female with a wonderfully large and soft lap area and ample chest cushioning for maximum comfort, and strong hands for stroking. A quick scan of her thoughts and history showed that she was an enlightened human indeed. She had cared for numerous cats during her life and was a firm believer in Felinity.
Cats! she thought to herself beatifically. I knew there'd be cats in heaven!
As happens occasionally with the most advanced souls, a spirit guide appeared to lead her to Purradise; in this case, a splendid tawny tom materialised and began to rub himself against her, indicating that he owned her.
"Colonel Mustard! Oh, Mustard!" cried the human joyfully, "Who's a special boy then, come back to his mummy, oh he's so clever and handsome, yes he is, yes he is, yes he is. A fluffy wuffy woo. A muzzy wuzzy wuffy woo."
Such speech is of course indicative of the most advanced moral, spiritual and intellectual enlightenment.
At this point I noticed that the other human in the line was struggling with nausea, which is quite rare in the dead, and must have been psychosomatic. He was looking at the female with what seemed like disgust, and his thoughts could have been summarised by the expression, Urrgghh. He was an unprepossessing specimen; thin and bony, with no history of cat care, and the only thought he had been able to muster since his arrival was a frequently repeated, What the - ?
There were others in the queue before him, though, and as the impressive female dematerialised with her guide, I turned to the next in line. They were a pair of seaslugs.
"Welcome to the afterlife," I said, magnificently as ever, blinking slowly and vibrating gently in an expression of my wondrousness and benevolence.
The seaslugs thought at me that it was terribly nice of me to say so, and how charming it was here, and, um, was there any sea for them to go and be seaslugs in?
"One's position in the afterlife is decided entirely by the actions one has performed in life," I explained. "If one has been good to felines then one enters paradise; if one has been wicked to them then one enters hell."
What a sensible system; how terribly fair and reasonable. Being, however, seaslugs, they had never seen or heard of cats during their lifetime, and had therefore committed neither good nor bad acts in reference to them. What might their fate be, if I would be so obliging as to tell them?
"Those who have not been chosen by felines during their lifetime enter a special state. They enter a form of paradise with many wonders, but they are excluded forever from the Great Blessings of the Feline Presence."
Right, so - um...
"You'll get a marvellous blue-green ocean with all the excitement and luxury you could imagine, but there won't be any cats."
Ah, we see. Well, that's fabulous. Thank you so much. We're absolutely delighted.
The seaslugs dematerialised, no doubt to reappear in their ocean, still murmuring polite expressions. Charming creatures; no religion, but you can't beat them for courtesy.
Next in line was a young oak sapling. It had experienced significant contact with cats; it had been used extensively as a scratching post and its leaves chewed, which had contributed to its demise, as had its use as a feline toilet. It shook what remained of its leaves nervously when it saw me, but kept any more articulate thoughts unformed.
"Welcome to the afterlife," I said joyfully.
The tree shook its leaves slightly and said nothing.
"You have served cats well in your life - you will be overjoyed to learn that you will continue to serve us in the afterlife."
Trees tend to show their joy in an odd way, particularly deciduous ones. The sapling was no exception; it wilted visibly, and formulated a thought along the lines of, Oh no.
"In Paradise, however," I continued, a little sternly, "The scratching of cats will cause your bark to strengthen; the water of cats will nourish you, and the chewing of your leaves will cause many new, brighter, healthier leaves to grow. You will become all that an oak tree can be, huge and flourishing in the best part of the forest. Your acorns will be many."
The sapling perked up and thought, That's okay then, and then it disappeared. Not very communicative, oaks, whereas you can't get a poplar to shut up.
Next was the unprepossessing male human. I sat up straight and gave him my omnipotent look. I already knew that he hadn't been religious, but if he had even the slightest sense of the aesthetic then surely my peridot-green eyes and superb stripes would instil a proper feeling of respect in him.
"A talking cat," he chuckled. "Going to say, "Welcome to the afterlife" again in that stupid voice? This is one crazy dream. Is it supposed to mean something? Am I supposed to make something of it when I wake up? A small tabby at the gates of paradise? Hahahahaha!"
I was momentarily disconcerted and felt unwarrantably discomfited at this unforgiveable speech. I suddenly found that my left shoulder needed a wash, so I licked it for a while until my thoughts regained their customary equilibrium. Then I addressed the human calmly.
"You seem to believe that you are asleep. You are not. You are dead, and I am here to inform you of your fate in the afterlife. One's fate in the afterlife is determined by one's behaviour to cats while alive."
"Oh sure it is, Tiddles. You just go right on talking. I mean, cats! What have they got to do with anything?"
I paused and gave him my look of infinite wisdom. Then I made a decision.
"Come with me, foolish human. Then you shall see..."
"Okey dokey," he said cheerfully and unbelievingly, as we dematerialised.
"It has a lot of cats in it, doesn't it?" remarked the human tentatively. I began to wonder if he was mentally all there - even by his species' standards - for before us was paradise.
It was hot; the sun shone strongly, and there were also radiators. Kittens played in the grass chasing leaves, or tried to hook bright fish from the stream. Beds, cushions, tables, newspapers, piles of clean dry washing, sofas, chairs and the laps of the saved were available for napping, and many cats were taking advantage. Food was plentiful and was being eaten or ignored at will or whim.
I turned to look at the human.
"Parrradise," I purred at him impressively.
"No, cats," he replied, which just didn't make sense. I stared at him in contempt, and he stared back. Clearly struggling, he formed an idea and expressed it.
"You mean - this is heaven to cat lovers?" he asked.
"Yes, the saved are here," I said gently and kindly.
"But this isn't my idea of heaven," he said.
"You might regret saying that when you see the alternative," I tribbled softly, and transformed the scene with a flick of my tail.
"AAAARRRGGGHHHH!" screamed the human, appropriately and obligingly.
Before us was a scene in stark contrast to the previous splendour. Humans were being drowned in canals; lay starving in boxes and sheds; were kept in cages. Some were lined up for experiments, being cut, injected, deformed; having acid poured on them, chemicals poured into their eyes and ears, being force fed until they died; all manner of atrocities.
The human looked around him in silence for some time.
"This is an atrocity," he said.
"Yes," I agreed.
"Who are those men and women in white coats, looking nervous and covering their private parts?" asked the human warily.
"Vets," I explained.
"But they helped animals! They cared for them, and cured their illnesses!" protested the human.
"Oh yes, and we will do the same for them," I explained. "There's just a little operation they have to have first..."
"Oh no, not me! Not me!" cried the human, very distressed. "I never hurt a cat in my life! I never cared for one either, but you can't put me in this kind of nightmare."
"We won't," I said soothingly. Cats spend a lot of time soothing humans, who are worse than kittens when it comes to coping with stress. "I was simply explaining the basic tenets of religion."
"I still believe that this is a dream," said the human firmly (though his thoughts were less stable), "But let's say I go along with it for now. What do I get? Something great, right, like the seaslugs?"
"Well, your case is slightly different," I pointed out. "The seaslugs never had the opportunity to serve cats. You knew that there were cats who required care and that you were able to help them. But you didn't."
"No - o," admitted the human reluctantly.
"So yours is a special case. You do not get to live in the perpetual bliss of perfect Felinity, of course; neither are you doomed to live in hell. In fact you go to Purrgatory."
"Purgawhatnow?"
"Purrgatory. It is specially designed for each individual. Yours will have a comfortable home, but it will be beside the horrible Great Salt Wet. You will have tasty fish and meat and cereals to eat, but you will also have nasty sharp fruits and their vile fermentations and juices. You will live with your mate, but you will-"
"My mate? Janey? My Janey's here?" said the man softly, and then his face began to leak. This happens to humans in emotional situations. It renders them half blind, unable to smell, noisy and useless. How these creatures ever survived is beyond the finest minds.
"Yes," I replied simply. Best to give him time to understand. Humans are rather slow. I felt quite affectionate towards this one, he was so needy and pathetic, and I rewarded him with a slow blink and a gentle vibrating purr which he failed completely to notice.
"So let's get this straight," he said more clearly after a while, and after smearing some mucus on a cloth. "I get to live in a house by the sea with my wife, and drink cocktails?"
"Yes," I said carefully, "But the presence of cats will be denied to you. There will be the water, and a variety of weather, even snow. It will be - "
"A house by the sea with Janey," he said dreamily. "Oh yes, I understand, no cats, terrible. Awful. Just awful."
He began to dematerialise slowly as he became ready for his fate. Yet I saw his mouth twitch, and even move up at the corners the way humans move their mouths when they are content. Possibly he was putting a brave face on things (this is part of the human habit of pretending things are other than they are), but I had no time to waste thinking of the oddities of the creatures. I had some important eating, washing and sleeping to do before heading back to the Purry Gates. Being purrfect is extremely tiring.