Issue One
What Scares You?
October 2024
Are You There God? It’s Me, Bert.
Billie Leigh Burns
Dear God,
In your eyes, being reincarnated as a cat is a fitting fate for being a dictator in my former life. I can’t pretend I agree, but that spot of bother with the genocides might have tarnished my reputation.
However, I believe the torture inflicted on me constitutes cruel and unusual punishment. My worst fear has been realised; I’m being held in a—I’m sorry, it’s just so horrible—a council estate! I am one of three hostages. We have been stripped of our names and relabelled—their first parade of brutal control. My captors call me Bertie, almost certainly to mock me. I have tried to spark a rebellion, urging my fellow felines in chains.
My brother, they call him Buster, has also been sentenced to a lifetime in this form. He is brainwashed, of course, to believe this is his paradise – a life he dreamt of when he was a hippy in the sixties. Sadly, he is content with getting fat and being told that he’s beautiful all day.
The little one … we’re not exactly sure what it is. Her daily routine consists of covering herself in dirt and making demonic screeches. I think my captors tried to bathe her in holy water. Strange hisses and growls could be heard. Objects flew around the room. Gashes appeared on my captors’ forearms.
The living conditions are, of course, torturous. Food is served twice a day, a slurry of jellied meat that makes my cellmates froth at the mouth. I have vomited many times, usually to fail an attempted poison plot, sometimes due to sheer disgust, never on an easily wiped surface. I eat only to spite the little one who covets my dish each mealtime.
Worryingly, my captors are collecting my faeces—surely for some nefarious purpose. I am left with no choice but to hide them somewhere else. Alas, it appears the tall captor wears those ugly shoes more often than I anticipated. I have been sent into isolation—or ‘Time Out’ as my captors announce it.
I used to command armies! Nations fell at my feet!
I beg you, mighty Lord, return me to my human form, give me the dignity of a body that cannot be scooped up one-handed, a nose that cannot be bopped, no matter how hard I resist the compelling power of a fingertip, eyes that understand that I’ll never catch the laser.
Yours sincerely,
Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Toe Beans You’re Such A Good Boy, Yes You Are (Apparently, my full name in this realm).
P.S. I suppose the claws are somewhat useful.
Photo- writer’s own. Writer - Bert’s own
About the author
Billie Leigh Burns (and Bert)
Billie-Leigh Burns is a writer from Liverpool. Her work has been featured by 50 Word Stories, 101 Words, Funny Pearls, and The Mersey Review. She is also a bookkeeper, making her the only writer she knows who owns an 'I Heart Spreadsheets' mug.
Bert is a five-year-old Tabby, who resides with his brother, Buster, and his begrudgingly adopted sister, Gypsy Mae. He enjoys long naps on the windowsill, empty boxes, and refusing affection from his humans. His goal is to one day catch the laser, training daily to achieve this feat.