3 min
CatsCast 21 Preview: Kindly, Stop for Me CatsCast
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- Science Fiction
December, 2023. Author: K. M. Veohongs Narrator: Dave Robison Host: Laura Pearlman Audio Producer: Dave Robison
This story originally appeared inTranslunar Traveler's Lounge, February 2022
A content note: there is some death in this one.
Kindly, Stop for Me
by K.M. Veohongs
I rise from my spot by the window in Room 126 of the Sunny Glades Home for Health and Rehabilitation. The sun set an hour ago, so it’s no great loss. My front paws extend, claws out, before I shift my weight forward and kick out each hind leg. I don’t have the range of motion I once did — everything creaks and clicks now — but since the moment I selected my first feline host, I found there is nothing quite so satisfying as a good stretch.
I jump down and land on the tiled floor, hard. I wish they’d carpet the rooms, but that’s hardly sanitary, is it? The hop up onto the bed is more difficult still. We’re in the hospice wing, of course, and these beds are tall. I’ve still got the ups to make it, but it’s a near thing.
Finding a replacement body should be on the top of my to-do list. This one is rather past its natural expiration date, and if I don’t find a new host before it gives out completely, I’ll be as rudderless as the souls I’m supposed to help. It’s only that I’m rather attached to the form I’m currently inhabiting. I’ve been Archimedes for so long now, I’m not sure I remember how to be anyone else.
Read (or listen to) the rest on Patreon.
Visit us at https://escapeartists.net/catscast/.
Released under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives International 4.0 license.
December, 2023. Author: K. M. Veohongs Narrator: Dave Robison Host: Laura Pearlman Audio Producer: Dave Robison
This story originally appeared inTranslunar Traveler's Lounge, February 2022
A content note: there is some death in this one.
Kindly, Stop for Me
by K.M. Veohongs
I rise from my spot by the window in Room 126 of the Sunny Glades Home for Health and Rehabilitation. The sun set an hour ago, so it’s no great loss. My front paws extend, claws out, before I shift my weight forward and kick out each hind leg. I don’t have the range of motion I once did — everything creaks and clicks now — but since the moment I selected my first feline host, I found there is nothing quite so satisfying as a good stretch.
I jump down and land on the tiled floor, hard. I wish they’d carpet the rooms, but that’s hardly sanitary, is it? The hop up onto the bed is more difficult still. We’re in the hospice wing, of course, and these beds are tall. I’ve still got the ups to make it, but it’s a near thing.
Finding a replacement body should be on the top of my to-do list. This one is rather past its natural expiration date, and if I don’t find a new host before it gives out completely, I’ll be as rudderless as the souls I’m supposed to help. It’s only that I’m rather attached to the form I’m currently inhabiting. I’ve been Archimedes for so long now, I’m not sure I remember how to be anyone else.
Read (or listen to) the rest on Patreon.
Visit us at https://escapeartists.net/catscast/.
Released under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives International 4.0 license.
3 min