seymoure

Chapter 90

Before the Fall

The dizzying turns were erasing everything but fear and nausea from Smiga’s unfortunately otherwise placid and simple mind.

The whirling had focused his thoughts; it had made him angry, then strangely energized, followed by a complete evacuation both emotionally and then, horribly, physically.

Mercifully, the anxiety about the spinning blades had become almost nil as the rest of his body was unable to try to dodge their onslaught.

That was so until the last one slit the final bit of webbing that held him captive to the twirling prison.

He had feared that he would go from the web into an endless fall, one that would only end with his splattering somewhere miles below.

That was not what happened, by any means.

He was launched high into the blackness of the non-sky that had been bleakly above him for the eternity that he had been here.

Like anyone in a similar situation, Smiga began the review his life.

He had not been a great Zazzcat, even though he had always striven to be good. He was always kind to his mother, though she drank and kicked him out by his third birthday. Young to be on your own, even for a feline/reptile.

His first girlfriend (the only one, if the truth be told) was Shentalay. She had been much older and a widow, but she was kind to the young one and taught him more that he had thought he should know.

He worked with a distant relative in a bakery for a while, but didn’t enjoy the work because he wasn’t allowed to do rolls, which he adored.

Then he went to work for the tribe in an unspecified position that left him to do whatever no one else wanted to do. He seemed to have a talent for being given the jobs that were impossible and making them seem simple.

He suddenly wished he had spoken his mind more.

For that matter, he wished he had not taken this particular assignment. He liked the humans well enough, but they seemed to get him in more complex trouble than he was suited for, and that was not good.

With the same astonishing speed and surprise this flight had begun, it ended.

His body came into conflict with a very sturdy piece of wall.

Bright lights bubbled around inside his head as his body fragmented and slid to the floor.

The shoulder which had taken the greatest amount of the impact was absolutely shattered. His face had several lacerations, while he doubted his eyes would ever focus again.

He could not lift his arm. It hung from his body as though it did not belong. With a great deal of pain, he found he was able to wiggle his fingers and slightly bend his elbow, but only with the greatest of painful reply from his constitution.

He resolved to remain a heap, leaning against this wall, for the rest of time. Then, through the blazing light of his pain, he saw something across the room.

He must have been hallucinating from the crash. His brain must have been injured.

For there in the center of the room stood an infant human.

The baby was smoking a pipe and fighting with a door knob that was far too high for the toddler to reach.

Finally the child lunged, swept his hand against the knob, and the door opened.

Smiga was unaware of anything else happening as he lost consciousness.