Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 176

This week's picture prompt was created by Russian artist Ruslan Svobodin, and calls this Trigger the Cat. I rather love it. 

I had used it in my new Tricky book, although I realised now I didn't encompass the gun, but still, the idea is to use the prompt in whatever way works for you. And it's also opened up a whole other sub plot! So very useful. Here's a snippet. (The last Tricky tale on the blog was at Week 175)

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Black Cat

Tricky’s new body meant that she wasn’t too puffed out by all the stairs that wound up to the top room in the tower. There were a couple of landings along the way leading off along corridors, but they contained nothing of interest to her. When she reached the top landing she faced the door which was open, and looked in. Lucien was at his desk, head down writing something. His birds were all there too, in all the alcoves and on all the window ledges, but none of them registered her presence.

She carefully stepped into the room. She didn’t plan to try and retrieve her Obsidian stone with him sitting there - didn’t think she actually could, as there wasn’t enough space between chair and cabinet. Plus she was confident he would sense the change in energy if she got that close to him, and she wasn’t going to risk it. She stepped inside the doorway, and stood to the left of it, in a corner where the circular outer wall met the inner wall, and waited.

Lucien was scribbling furiously, intent on whatever he had to tell. Then he laid his pen down and rolled the piece of paper up and made a strange squeaking noise with his lips, no doubt calling his birds to him. But it wasn’t a bird that came, it was a cat, and this one wore a strange device.

Now Tricky didn’t go in for all this ‘all witches must have cats’ malarkey. She wasn’t into them at all; they prowled about thinking they were something special, demanding attention and food when it suited them. Moody bloody things too, they were, and she didn’t care for that kind of attitude. She wasn’t going to chase after an animal that didn’t serve a purpose, although many would argue they did. Yes, they caught mice and other such small creatures, many that didn’t need catching, and they might spot the existence of ghosts and other energies, although it could just as easily be a fly, but she didn’t want cat hair getting into all her clothing and her food, she didn’t want it in her garden shitting up the place, and she didn’t want half rotting ‘presents’ turning up on her doorstep. Oh no, they weren’t for Tricky. But it didn’t surprise her Lucien had one. He was that sort. He didn’t just go in for the magic or the power; he went in for the image too. And though birds might be his forte, cats gave him the look he was after. And this was a black cat of course. No other would do.

She found it interesting the cat paid no mind to the birds - although they were big birds and would stab that cat soon as look at it. And she was surprised it tolerated wearing a contraption. He clearly had a hold over it. It seemed birds weren’t just his thing.

The cat jumped up onto his desk and sat in front of him, offering its back. The contraption, affixed round the front legs and underbelly, was a tube which Dufray popped the letter into. He then made some other strange noises and the cat hopped down and went out of the door, off to deliver Lucien’s missive. Tricky wondered where it was going.

Then Lucien stood up and took his thigh-length black jacket off the back of the chair and put it on. Buttoning it up, he moved over to the wall and preened himself in a mirror. One of the birds screeched, startling Tricky. Lucien said aloud, ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be long, and you can join me if you like, eh?’ He turned and looked at the Jay that had made the noise and offered an arm. It glided down and perched on his forearm and together they left the room.