Curiosity Killed the Cat
a short story by jakob michael
On the corner sits a brick building with just enough dimension to establish a presence amidst the darkness created by the surrounding high-rise buildings. With its abnormality and questionable reason for being the peculiar little structure gives a dose of curiosity to each passer-by that a pause for investigation is only natural and called for. As a second glace is casually initiated any agenda becomes minute and surplus. The innocence of the first glance drawn from the curiosity of simplicity in the building is now stripped and swiftly replaced with the inescapable intensity of a stare. Like a strange awkwardness that fills thought and feeling or a dense and almost black contemplation with little reason for it; this is the impression that fills the head with a force that then seeps its way into numbness of the fingers and a stiff chill of the skin. This dump of sensation hasn’t hindered liberty to continue with any original obligations, plans or aimless wandering; only they have chosen to look and stand subject to the curiosity. By now, however, this curiosity has developed in multiplication equal to the time spent standing in the intensity of the new found spectacle.
Time has given eyes an adjustment to darkness and body a position of necessity within the scene. Like that of a stitch sewn to make the cloth only the eyes create this spectacle just as the cloth is made by the stitch. Now, able to see with a deepness and perception, the details of the simplicity stand in minimalist fashion giving shapes, lines, and stature a reason for being. The flat broadness of the roof takes eyes down into the front faced where noticeably absent windows lay waiting to be found or imagined. The path leading from where the viewer stands to the edge of the building carries eyes for moments instead of an assumed second and when the end is reached the awaited assembly of the door is instead a dismay of disappointment as there is none. Only distinct lines created by the gaps between bricks can be questionably stated as character, all else is left there for the viewer to bath within their yawning pool of curiosity.
Time has given no gratification and with each consistent pulse of thought the eagerness for indulgence grows deeper. With the irrational approach of an addict and the naive innocence of a child the decision to nourish the desperate desire is met with a crave to draw nearer. Question of departure is pushed aside and thought of embracing curiosity isn’t even questioned. With a purpose the pathway begins where all began. Nothing has changed yet all stands in amplification. Each brick is seen with perception and just as they are stacked to create structure they also give the support of the imagination. Every detail seems like an invitation, as if it’s the will of the building and not the conscious decision of the mind to walk closer.
The bodies still stance takes a different shape as it begins to walk. The building begins to reach closer and a light is briefly noticed from a crack within the front wall but within the next step it lost. With a motion back it reappears and remains still but now with some kind of dimension and color. With a pause to understand this new addition to character, the color is brought forth as a profound and full bodied red, a red so original in depth and density giving the light a resemblance of scarlet silk textile or of a deep seepage of blood between cracks and with this announcement of color and resolution, the realization of shape is noticed with little question of its formation, a door.
With the knowledge of this door adding to curiosity a search for other shapes presents texture and contour. The brick has rough violent consistency and the outlined silhouette of length gives a heightened charisma to the buildings size and easy shape. None of this however takes away from the profound red that still continues its buoyant flow like a draped dress following the curvature of its woman. The life it exudes from beneath the door is erotic and filled with sensation.
With a pulsating heat of the face and a disobedient urge to finish for peak the hand reaches for the door knob and replaces the absence of grip with the feeling of cold antique steal against the palm. The coming of outside in has evolved from the ache for the inside out.
The brightness of the suspended chandelier and the opaque intensity of color and elaborate designs from the surrounding wallpaper create a new situation within a small foyer. Against the wall lays a claret satin embroidered bench that looks out onto the darkness through the open door. The red-wine setting gives radiance in contrast with the previous darkness. The deepness of dissimilarity has become the drive to replace curiosity with apathy. It has become a burden in the form of an addiction. It’s a force as deep as the red that surrounds. Much like the force that at this moment thrusts crimson blood through the body’s vein.
Leaving the foyer behind a quick turn around the corner announces only a hallway but with a subtly that could easily go un-discovered. With a slow pause an analysis begins of a discrete crackle between what seems to be the inconsistency of an old record. The impurity of the noise amid the untainted silence gives an easy escape from thought. Focus is blurred as the noise becomes closer. A symphony like sound but with frequent scratches in the flow keeps attention and motion in the direction of the room on the left.
A manual crank phonograph with an apparent responsibility to play for this occasion gives question to the whereabouts of its man power. But casually atop an ornately designed side table it plays with a purpose so obvious and natural to the situation that its explanation isn’t sought but instead accepted. It bring a purpose and rational to a previous situation that gave no intent. It submerses the situation to a depth so deep that the curiosity once pursued has become a danger to mind and conscious. Everything has become a risk. The clutter of sporadically placed paintings on the wall give opportunity to an enhanced memorization. Low set light combined with the small proportion of the room give an ample feeling of oneness with the building that previously brought such distress. But above all the flow from the redness of the walls feed the sensation of curiosity to a size so commanding and influential.
Just beyond the phonograph a modest cedar bar top gives the support to a neatly organized display of crystal and a selection of liquors. The invitation from the adjacent stool calls for an excuse to give memorization a momentary pause but also a chance to commence a deeper analysis of the surroundings. The dimness of the light mixed with the pungent color of the room gives a density to the brandy as it’s poured into the crystal glass. The smooth slosh created by the pour becomes the hearable sense encouraging the connection between the glass and lips. The delicate smell of spices brought forth by the spill brings fantasy to its taste.
With a glance across the room an understood sentiment of selfness is stripped with the new awareness of another body. Casually beside the edge of the wall lays a cat. Beside the cat lays the reason for the cat’s presence, a bowl with a vacant absence of substance. The warmth of the milk lies inside the immobile body of the curious cat.
