There was a cedar tree, a very old, tall cedar tree to the south of Abram’s house, standing on the edge of the marsh that he saw each morning when he woke. Lying in bed, his eyes still blurred from sleep, the top of the big, bushy tree was what he saw first every morning. In the shadows and silhouettes in the moments before dawn, Abram would slowly trace the tree line, including the old cedar, with his eye sight.
Abram had lived in the house near the marsh for over a decade, and each day he saw the same sight, the same tree, and even as it grew, he still saw in his mind’s eye the same image in the silhouette of the cedar.
He saw a cat. Everyday he saw a cat...a cedar cat.
Labels: Short Fiction