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A lone black cat walked quickly down the frozen street, every paw print left being covered up by fresh snow. The streets were silent- he was entirely alone. It was by some miracle that the tom was still alive. His silky, velvet coat was of no help in this storm.
He had no idea where he was. He’d been walking endlessly searching the foreign streets for shelter, but to no avail. He’d never been out this far. The snow fell too quickly and too heavily for any of his senses to guide him, so he relied solely on instinct, whatever instinct that was
As fate or some other higher power would have it, he stumbled upon the front chain gates of a junkyard.
He’d heard stories about this junkyard. Many, many years ago, dozens of cats made their homes here. For generations, they were considered a jovial tribe that celebrated differences and union. A haven where all forms of art were not only accepted and encouraged, but ingrained within their culture. A tribe of Jellicles.
Those cats weren’t here anymore. It was so long ago that they might as well have been a myth. Nobody knows how or why they disappeared, just that over time, the music began to fade, until it was gone. The entire clearing looked like no one had been there in years, spare for maybe some raccoons or particularly brave mice. But the unspoken truth was that everybody was frightened of the junkyard. Even the smallest kittens could feel a certain magic lingering. There were no more lives in the junkyard, but the overall life of the tribe lingered like a beautiful memory.
The small tom paid no attention to those ghost stories.
Instead, he daydreamed about their infamous annual ball. One night a year around this very time, all of the Jellicles would meet. They would sing to their heaven and dance the night away, honoring their eldest and appreciating their youth. The night was filled with fun and excitement and mystery and wonder. Unexplainable things would happen during the Jellicle ball.
Oh, he always wondered what a Jellicle ball would be like. He tried to see past the chain fence standing guard between him and the clearing, searching in vain for the stories the eldest strays mused about.
He stood frozen to the ground, peering into the junkyard. Snow gathered around him, but pure curiosity kept him standing there nonetheless. Something was pulling him in.
Despite the junkyard being devoid of activity, the tom could feel what felt like more than a dozen sets of eyes boring into him. The feeling made him want to flee, but their nonexistent gazes sudden felt more curious, as if they were waiting for him to walk in and join them.
Suddenly, the gray storm looked more akin to precious silver in the moonlight. The air grew a bit warmer, distracting him from the frozen street behind him. The dead Christmas lights strung up above flickered for life, illuminating the hazy shapes of dancing cats down below, looking like one entity. Cats that hadn’t been there moments earlier. Before he even saw the vague, blurry figures, he could hear them. Soft voices were chanting- no, singing- about something or someone. The subject of their praise was blocked from view, not that the tom could see much yet anyway.
Slowly, the blob of grays and browns diverged and took the shapes of individual cats ranging from small to moderate size. They all looked so different, each unlike any other cat he’d ever seen. Still, they moved like one unit in a spontaneous dance more beautiful than the world around them. Something greater than a shared home connected them all, a power far greater than any cat could fathom. The black tom need to know more.
It felt like a memory from a dream. He wasn’t moving, but his body felt just as tired and electric as all of the dancers. Their energy was shared with him, and he couldn’t help but feel like one of them.
The blanket of snow still falling from the sky both muffled their music and obscured his view. That was until the cat heard a distant cry past the wall of snow and the junkyard truly sprang to life before his very eyes. The snow hadn’t left, but the tom felt like he could see this world more clearly than the one he lived in. This was where he was supposed to be, but some unknown force kept him from walking forward and joining the tribe in their celebration.
At the center of the excitement stood a radiant black and white tuxedo tom. From the moment the black cat set his eyes on him, he felt like he was looking in a fun house mirror. The tux didn’t look exactly like the black cat, but the tom could sense every emotion and energy coursing through the tux was being reflected back at him. The tux glowed with the same sparkles that hung in the air, looking eager and dignified. Every step he took and every move he made were simultaneously delicate and strong; his dance was mesmerizing. He might as well have been casting a spell, but the performance was so graceful nobody seemed fazed. The black cat could tell the star performing had something he was trying to prove, and he commanded the spotlight. He might as well have actually been controlling the spotlight as it seemed the lights followed his movements.
It was magical.
There was a second cat the tux allowed into the spotlight as well. A tall, charming Maine Coon stood just as confidently alongside the tux. He had a gorgeous, wild mane of mixing browns and golds with a spiked collar that only added to his powerful persona. He moved with a swagger that must have been practiced to perfection, so much so that it was second nature. Judging by the way the smaller cats clung to him, could have had all eyes on him. Be that as it may, he directed that attention right back at the tux, who in return looked to his maned companion for support.
They were professional in the performance, but the invisible emotional connection between the two was blinding. They were bound by something stronger than any magic.
The pair moved in perfect sync in a dance that seemed effortless. For some reason, the black tom could tell the two dancers knew something greater than they were letting on. They had a plan and moved with a purpose, bewitching everyone else along the way. The spectator watched as sparks flew from the tux’s paws, and he could almost feel the same energy crackle at his own feet. Of course he didn’t have magic of his own, but the power emanating from within was so familiar it was more comforting than it was terrifying. It was as if something inside of him was awoken.
The dancing cats didn’t seem to mind the displays of magic either. They cheered and marveled at his abilities, leaping to join him. The magical tux even lit the fur of one of the queens to sparkle like his own.
The show was entertaining, but that’s all it was. Amusing. The spectator knew the tux was leading up to something, and was stalling with smaller, easy acts. He had absolutely no reason to assume this, but he just knew. It felt rude to make assumptions on a total stranger, but the level of deep understanding he felt towards the tux made any thought of intrusion fade away.
He silently urged the tux to enact his plan. There was still the invisible barrier separating him from the inviting world, but something told him that the tux would listen.
And he did. With a final bit of encouragement from his companion, the magical tom broke out into the most awe-inspiring set of turns the black cat had ever seen. One spin after another, he seemed to defy the laws of physics. Nobody even noticed that another cat had joined them, one much older than any other cat.
The second the magician stilled, the whole junkyard did, including the lights and the snow and the sparkles. Even the black tom stiffened, holding his breath with anticipation. Questions popped into his head out of nowhere, but he needed answers. What did the others think of the display? Was this real, did this really just happen? The Maine Coon was saying something, but even he appeared to still be registering what just happened.
A beat. And then a collective burst of energy from everybody at the exact moment the magician unfroze.
They were all back to singing and dancing, but this time they were more triumphant and overjoyed than ever. The black tom even sprang to his feet, never moving from his spot on the pavement but feeling the same energy as the rest of the cats. He was shaking, tired yet satisfied and more alive than ever. He wanted to join in and sing along, but he still couldn’t hear their words. Whatever they were saying though, they sang with jubilation that reached higher than the towers of trash surrounding them.
While the dancing chorus cats were enthralling, the spectator never took his eyes off the two orchestrators of the whole number. They both continued to show off, but they shared a brief, tender moment when the excitement distracted everyone from them. The Maine Coon pulled the tux into a tight embrace, holding onto him like he was the only thing that mattered. And the black tom was inclined to believe that was true. When the larger cat embraced his partner, the tom felt the warmth as well. Of course, no one was holding him, but he felt shielded from the cold regardless. It was disappointing when he let go.
So caught up in the moment, the tom hadn’t realized how much time had passed until the show appeared to be ending. The magician was taking his bows, with some extra tricks thrown in for effect. The Maine Coon accompanied him as always with an overabundance of hype.
Coming up from his bow, the tux locked eyes with the black tom outside, shattering whatever barricade stood between them. The black cat was looking into his own eyes, as impossible as that sounded. Neither of them were expecting the brief moment of connection, and for a moment they were one in the same. Before the tom had time to question, time to leap forward and join the grand finale, his idol for the last 7 minutes vanished in a brilliant cloud of smoke and sparkles.
As soon as he disappeared, the others rapidly began to fade, like a dream slipping away after waking up. The song was ending. The ghosts of the junkyard disappeared from sight, and any indication that they had just been there was immediately covered by newly fallen snow.
The junkyard was back to being empty, but it wasn’t as silent as before. Any passerby would have heard absolutely nothing, but as the tom stared, he could still hear a hypnotic tune and a name.
Mr. Mistoffelees.
That name was familiar. It must have been a long time since he last heard it.
The black cat turned away. He could have stood by the gate and watched the empty landfill forever, tantalized by his vision, but the warmth had left and the winter wind continued to bite. Though he was leaving, a part of him would always live on in that junkyard, no matter how many years passed by.
He left feeling nostalgic for a life he couldn’t remember, leaving behind specks of glitter in his paw prints in the snow.