![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/10\/20171027_111557-300x300.jpg\")
<\/p>\nBy Alyssa Gillon.<\/p>\n
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I find a shack in the woods, kick down the door and announce to Rufus, \u201cHere is our final resting place.”<\/p>\n
My diseased cat and I are fugitives; our numbered days are spent munching mud and contracting amoebas with which to decompose ourselves in beauty. In two hundred years they’ll uncover our skeletons.<\/p>\n
But I can’t find the cat.<\/p>\n
\u201cRufus! Rufus, you disgusting thing,” I scream.<\/p>\n
I circle the shack, batting at bushes and shaking trees, thinking Rufus is a goner because either something’s eaten him or he finally ate himself.<\/p>\n
A cat saunters out of a hole at the base of the shack. Rufus? Gnaw wounds healed, fur grown back, Rufus purrs: he’s transformed from demon to gleaming beast. Twitching his tail and strutting around, Rufus doesn’t lick or scratch himself once.<\/p>\n
I peek into the hole he came out of. Below the floor of the shack is a room containing an unfinished project. One wall is covered in mirrors, and more mirrors are stacked on the ground. I dig the hole bigger and slide down through the earth into the room. Inside the room are buckets of glue. I pry them open and churn the separated chemicals with a stick, then I slather the walls. I hold the mirrors to dry in place and then I do the ceiling.<\/p>\n
As I work, what I’m doing really starts to make sense! The room is healing me. My nostrils burn, my brain is blooming! I look into the ceiling and spin with my arms out. I grin at my reflection, but my nose starts bleeding, and I realize, \u201cHey! This isn’t magic, I’m rocketed on fumes.” For hours all I can see are humans growing back into monkeys.<\/p>\n
I wake up. It’s dark out, and it’s time to hunt. I crawl out of the mirror room and eat all the moss, berries and mushrooms I can find. I smell animal tracks and hot-foot through the trees, and an hour later I’ve got two turkeys wrung by the neck. I’ve stuffed their gullets with rosehips, and some roots I dug up that might be potatoes.<\/p>\n
When I return, the floor of the mirror room is a lake. Rufus waits on an island in the middle with a small fire burning. We feast on the turkeys, berries and roots, and Rufus fishes from the lake for our dessert.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt’s wonderful to have you here,” I tell the butterfly that visits our island. \u201cBring the bees!” And they come buzzing in to work on their hive. Turtles climb through the entry-hole and fall into the lake. Snakes chase mice and rabbits. A bear moans while he digs his way in.<\/p>\n
I make a phone call and ask, \u201cDo you deliver?”<\/p>\n
\u201cNot usually but I can help a girl out.”<\/p>\n
\u201cBring us all the bananas you got,” I say, and a banana tree shakes the mirror room as it sprouts. \u201cActually oranges! Guavas?” Both trees quake into existence.<\/p>\n
\u201cNevermind what you bring,” I say, \u201cJust bring lots and soon.”<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is weird,” he says,\u201cbut is the house big?”<\/p>\n
And I say, \u201cYou’ll see when you get here.”<\/p>\n
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR<\/strong><\/p>\n Alyssa Gillon<\/strong> writes and hikes in Oregon.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n ABOUT THE ARTWORK<\/strong><\/p>\n Image found and manipulated by 3:AM.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My diseased cat and I are fugitives; our numbered days are spent munching mud and contracting amoebas with which to decompose ourselves in beauty. In two hundred years they’ll uncover our skeletons.<\/p>\n But I can’t find the cat.<\/p>\n By Alyssa Gillon<\/strong>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":119,"featured_media":88929,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[691,624,665],"class_list":["post-88927","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-alyssa-gilllon","tag-fiction","tag-flash-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88927","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=88927"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88927\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":88948,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88927\/revisions\/88948"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/88929"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=88927"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=88927"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=88927"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}