Short Story #2
Tonight we had the second short story meeting of the Spinster Literary Society. Tonight's prompt: "A society that's organised according to an ancient symbol that they've misinterpreted." I don't know how to be serious, which explains my story; Emily also wrote humor; but Aleah wrote a really good serious short story about misinterpreting the heart symbol of Valentine's Day. Hers definitely won this round for being the best story. Emily's was also pretty solid. Mine....well. Read it (in all its unedited glory), and you'll see. :)
Ancient Symbol Story
It was time.
For years now, the Society of Spinsters had been worshiping the ancient symbol of the Solitary Kitten. It had been uncovered in Egypt back in ‘04 when a group of gravediggers unearthed the tomb of a long forgotten Queen. Her tomb had been surrounded by two thousand maiden mummies, so declared by the hieroglyphs painted on the tomb wall. Inscribed on the queen’s tomb was a symmetrical oval bearing the form of a tiny black cat.
It didn’t take long for the Spinsters of the world to hear the news and band together under the Solitary Kitten. To be admitted to the order, one had to be terminally single, so declared by the woman requesting admission, with three letters of recommendation by friends and relatives who had long abandoned hope of her ever achieving marital bliss. Upon entrance to the society, women were gifted a small black kitten.
Karen, the founder of the organization, hadn’t wasted one minute in organizing her unwed sisters, and in the face of toxic masculinity facing the world, the Society of Spinsters spread across the world faster than the bubonic plague.
There were men who tried to gain admittance, but so many of them only wanted part to try and woo the masses of unwed girls, so the founding charter was quickly rewritten to exclude them. This was a sanctuary for women who could not marry, whether by choice, life experience, or long association with men. Therefore, no men were allowed.
“It’s the She-Woman Man-Haters Club,” one pithy member once proclaimed.
Alexandra joined upon her thirtieth year, after one too many terrible blind dates. That was six years ago, and she’d never looked back. She’d climbed the ranks, proving her Spinsterhood time and again, and was now in charge of her local chapter’s Sacred Kitten ritual, where the Spinsters gathered together to perform the sacred ceremony.
Karen had once suggested the ceremony be held out of doors to celebrate woman’s spiritual connection to the earth or some other such garbage, but Alexandra dismissed that notion in favor of holding the ceremony inside a women’s restroom. Admittance was one super sized tampon, unceremoniously glued to the door upon entrance. Alexandra came up with the idea in a stroke of genius when she was trying to figure out how best to hide their sacred ritual from the many men who thought they had a right to intrude. She had yet to meet a man who was willing to hold a tampon, much less cross a doorway covered with them. It didn’t keep their location secret, but it did prevent any unwanted hangers-on.
Today Alexandra was dressed head to toe in Taylor Swift’s cat costume from the end of her music video 22. Many of her fellow Spinsters had also chosen to similarly attire themselves, though the cat costumes ranged from Crookshanks to Garfield to Salem to the Duchess.
Candles ringed the large restroom; they’d commandeered a particularly large women’s room at a local convention center, needing the extra space for all the women to fit in. Every surface was covered in candles. Alexandra had put a moritorium on scented candles, because nobody needed that many scents competing. All candles were now lit, so she signalled for Tamyia to turn off the bathroom lights. Darkness was abated by the candlelight, glowing softly around the room and reflected in the large mirrors on either end of the restroom.
“Sisters,” Alexandra said, picking up her leftover sparkler from the fourth of July. Tamyia was passing around the extras, so one in every three women were holding one. “Now is the time to light the fire of your inner purrfection.” She lit her sparkler, the signal for her followers to do the same. The sparklers had been handed out strategically, so the light formed the outline of a cat.
In the center of the room, a stuffed black cat sat in the middle of a hastily scribbled pentagram. The pentagram wasn’t necessary, but it added a stroke of authenticity that the more pagan part of the society appreciated. “Tonight, as we are feline connected by our sacred bond, we are not kitten around as we attempt to summon the Society of Spinsters’ true guide, the Solitary Kitten. It is a mewment many have been waiting for, a clawsome event not to be repeated for another several hundred years as we await the alignment of the constellations Leo and Felis.”
A reverent hush fell over the Spinsters present; Alexandra had never felt more connected with these women than she did at this mewment. She smiled. “Hold hands, my kittens,” she cried, “and repeat the sacred chant!”
As though with one voice, they cried out,
There once was a solitary kitten
Whom by love could never be bitten
She’s tiny and black
Please let her come back
And finally let us be smitten!
The sparklers simultaneously went out and the candles all shivered, casting shadows on the wall. A rushing wind tossed about hair, kitten ears, and cat tails, and all covered their eyes. An impossibly loud roar filled the room for three agonizing seconds as the candle flames stretched in height, then all the candles went out and all fell still.
Alexandra breathed into the room, feeling the power of the moment as she connected with her fellow Spinsters. Then suddenly the candles sparked to life, and sitting where the stuffed kitten had been was a real life cat.
“The Egyptian goddess Bastest has come!” one Spinster cried out, and Alexandra shot her an annoyed look. Speaking was her role.
“Great Solitary Kitten,” Alexandra intoned, “we have amassed a furrmidable force and are gathered here to celebrate our Spinsterhood. Bless us!”
The kitten tilted its head. “Purrfect,” the kitten said. “Assuming, of course, Spinster means you’re going to supply me with cheese furever.”
Alexandra paused, peering at the kitten. “...Cheese, my lady?” she queried.
“I ain’t no lady,” the kitten said, licking its paw. “And I want cheese.”
“Aren’t you the pawsome Solitary Kitten, patron saint of single women?” Alexandra asked.
The kitten looked up at her and actually snorted. “I am the Great Cheese God Hisself,” the kitten said. “And I’m hungry. Fetch me some cheese. Shoo.”
Murmurs starting amongst the gathered Spinsters. “This is clawful,” Alexandra heard, and “What a cat-tastrophe” and “Put us out of our mew-sery.”
“But your symbol,” Alexandra said. “It was found on the tomb of the virgin queen and her two thousand maidens.”
“Two thousand dairy maidens,” the Solitary Kitten said. “The mewsic they made while making cheese--beautifur.”
Alexandra signalled, and Tamyia turned on the light, restoring a sense of normality to the situation. “This is unfurtunate,” she said, and her fellow Spinsters nodded in agreement.
The Solitary Kitten shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “If you don’t have any cheese, I’m out. There’s a whole world to explore and so much cheese to eat, and I don’t have furever to do it.” And he slunk out the door, leaving a few dozen Spinsters to watch his departure.
“You have got to be kitten me,” Alexandra said.
Ancient Symbol Story
It was time.
For years now, the Society of Spinsters had been worshiping the ancient symbol of the Solitary Kitten. It had been uncovered in Egypt back in ‘04 when a group of gravediggers unearthed the tomb of a long forgotten Queen. Her tomb had been surrounded by two thousand maiden mummies, so declared by the hieroglyphs painted on the tomb wall. Inscribed on the queen’s tomb was a symmetrical oval bearing the form of a tiny black cat.
It didn’t take long for the Spinsters of the world to hear the news and band together under the Solitary Kitten. To be admitted to the order, one had to be terminally single, so declared by the woman requesting admission, with three letters of recommendation by friends and relatives who had long abandoned hope of her ever achieving marital bliss. Upon entrance to the society, women were gifted a small black kitten.
Karen, the founder of the organization, hadn’t wasted one minute in organizing her unwed sisters, and in the face of toxic masculinity facing the world, the Society of Spinsters spread across the world faster than the bubonic plague.
There were men who tried to gain admittance, but so many of them only wanted part to try and woo the masses of unwed girls, so the founding charter was quickly rewritten to exclude them. This was a sanctuary for women who could not marry, whether by choice, life experience, or long association with men. Therefore, no men were allowed.
“It’s the She-Woman Man-Haters Club,” one pithy member once proclaimed.
Alexandra joined upon her thirtieth year, after one too many terrible blind dates. That was six years ago, and she’d never looked back. She’d climbed the ranks, proving her Spinsterhood time and again, and was now in charge of her local chapter’s Sacred Kitten ritual, where the Spinsters gathered together to perform the sacred ceremony.
Karen had once suggested the ceremony be held out of doors to celebrate woman’s spiritual connection to the earth or some other such garbage, but Alexandra dismissed that notion in favor of holding the ceremony inside a women’s restroom. Admittance was one super sized tampon, unceremoniously glued to the door upon entrance. Alexandra came up with the idea in a stroke of genius when she was trying to figure out how best to hide their sacred ritual from the many men who thought they had a right to intrude. She had yet to meet a man who was willing to hold a tampon, much less cross a doorway covered with them. It didn’t keep their location secret, but it did prevent any unwanted hangers-on.
Today Alexandra was dressed head to toe in Taylor Swift’s cat costume from the end of her music video 22. Many of her fellow Spinsters had also chosen to similarly attire themselves, though the cat costumes ranged from Crookshanks to Garfield to Salem to the Duchess.
Candles ringed the large restroom; they’d commandeered a particularly large women’s room at a local convention center, needing the extra space for all the women to fit in. Every surface was covered in candles. Alexandra had put a moritorium on scented candles, because nobody needed that many scents competing. All candles were now lit, so she signalled for Tamyia to turn off the bathroom lights. Darkness was abated by the candlelight, glowing softly around the room and reflected in the large mirrors on either end of the restroom.
“Sisters,” Alexandra said, picking up her leftover sparkler from the fourth of July. Tamyia was passing around the extras, so one in every three women were holding one. “Now is the time to light the fire of your inner purrfection.” She lit her sparkler, the signal for her followers to do the same. The sparklers had been handed out strategically, so the light formed the outline of a cat.
In the center of the room, a stuffed black cat sat in the middle of a hastily scribbled pentagram. The pentagram wasn’t necessary, but it added a stroke of authenticity that the more pagan part of the society appreciated. “Tonight, as we are feline connected by our sacred bond, we are not kitten around as we attempt to summon the Society of Spinsters’ true guide, the Solitary Kitten. It is a mewment many have been waiting for, a clawsome event not to be repeated for another several hundred years as we await the alignment of the constellations Leo and Felis.”
A reverent hush fell over the Spinsters present; Alexandra had never felt more connected with these women than she did at this mewment. She smiled. “Hold hands, my kittens,” she cried, “and repeat the sacred chant!”
As though with one voice, they cried out,
There once was a solitary kitten
Whom by love could never be bitten
She’s tiny and black
Please let her come back
And finally let us be smitten!
The sparklers simultaneously went out and the candles all shivered, casting shadows on the wall. A rushing wind tossed about hair, kitten ears, and cat tails, and all covered their eyes. An impossibly loud roar filled the room for three agonizing seconds as the candle flames stretched in height, then all the candles went out and all fell still.
Alexandra breathed into the room, feeling the power of the moment as she connected with her fellow Spinsters. Then suddenly the candles sparked to life, and sitting where the stuffed kitten had been was a real life cat.
“The Egyptian goddess Bastest has come!” one Spinster cried out, and Alexandra shot her an annoyed look. Speaking was her role.
“Great Solitary Kitten,” Alexandra intoned, “we have amassed a furrmidable force and are gathered here to celebrate our Spinsterhood. Bless us!”
The kitten tilted its head. “Purrfect,” the kitten said. “Assuming, of course, Spinster means you’re going to supply me with cheese furever.”
Alexandra paused, peering at the kitten. “...Cheese, my lady?” she queried.
“I ain’t no lady,” the kitten said, licking its paw. “And I want cheese.”
“Aren’t you the pawsome Solitary Kitten, patron saint of single women?” Alexandra asked.
The kitten looked up at her and actually snorted. “I am the Great Cheese God Hisself,” the kitten said. “And I’m hungry. Fetch me some cheese. Shoo.”
Murmurs starting amongst the gathered Spinsters. “This is clawful,” Alexandra heard, and “What a cat-tastrophe” and “Put us out of our mew-sery.”
“But your symbol,” Alexandra said. “It was found on the tomb of the virgin queen and her two thousand maidens.”
“Two thousand dairy maidens,” the Solitary Kitten said. “The mewsic they made while making cheese--beautifur.”
Alexandra signalled, and Tamyia turned on the light, restoring a sense of normality to the situation. “This is unfurtunate,” she said, and her fellow Spinsters nodded in agreement.
The Solitary Kitten shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “If you don’t have any cheese, I’m out. There’s a whole world to explore and so much cheese to eat, and I don’t have furever to do it.” And he slunk out the door, leaving a few dozen Spinsters to watch his departure.
“You have got to be kitten me,” Alexandra said.