A Short Story By R D Mullarkey
"I kill cats. Not every night. Just on the darkest and wettest of nights when the sky is black and the rain glows gold in the street light. After the deed I use the puddles to clean the blood from my murder weapon, my right Wellington boot. I'm not sure why i started killing cats, I have always quite liked them; their independence, their inquisitiveness. I mean logically it's terrible that they decimate our bird life but that's not their fault it’s just a primal instinct. A separation between their need to hunt and their need to eat...."