New story! It’s the sequel to AOAM. Enjoy…

To Build This Bridge

Story by: Scrawler

Beta Read by: Latvian Ice

PROLOGUE: To Build This Bridge
Misto's POV

Another morning, another day, another step closer to yet another dawn and dusk, yet again. Can’t it all just stop, for just a moment? Just to give me enough time to understand that not everything is confusing or wrong anymore?

The Junkyard is hardly within my grasp. I feel distant, like I don’t belong. I messed everything up last year. I should be able to let go, but I can’t seem to. The Jellicles seemed to have pretended to forget pretty well. It’s only my fault that I’ve dragged my mess into the new year.

Electra and I “broke up” soon after Tumblebrutus offered her more than I could. That is, a tom who’s not completely lost his mind.

That makes me think, too. That very moment when we were together for the first time, really together, was just so easily forgotten and moved on from. At the time, I never thought I could forget it. Now, though, I think I’m starting to. I’m starting to forget everything real. Magic and reality are a blur.

Nothing has reason.

I still love Electra, I think, and only want her to be happy. At least, I did. Now I wanted her out of my face and head first in a barrel of monkeys. Not the game, but real, angry, flea-ridden monkeys. That bite. Hard.

Jemima is starting to pay attention to me, but I can’t really… trust her actions. It all may just be an act she can play to maybe not let herself feel bad for not being the friendliest queen to everyone.

Everlasting Cat, look what this whole situation has done to me… I’m trying to find something wrong in Jemima, but end up thinking mean things about Electra. What’s worse is that my format of thinking is like a twelve-year-old's Hello Kitty diary. It’s utter and complete angst, angst, love, love, hate, angst, monkeys. Horrible. Pathetic of me. And still I do nothing about it.

Just the other day I told Tugger to “stuff it” when he was talking about something… I don’t know… some restaurant grand opening he thought would be fun to crash. Something harmless like that.

And I’ve driven Victoria away. I probably haven’t said five words to her in weeks, so I can’t blame her. Coricopat and Tantomile are resisting, though. I know Victoria better; she’s easier to offend than the Dark Twins. Theylook at me sometimes like they know more about me than I do.

It’s still eerie.

So I haven’t been nice. Should I even have to be? I know there is still the possibility of being exiled from the tribe for what I did last year. No one has really come to terms with it. I doubt Old Deuteronomy would act on something he doesn’t truly believe in. I won’t suck up to the tribe just to stay anymore. Those days are over. I was a stupid kitten then and only a foolish tom now.

I probably need to do that little human trick that, I guess, builders do. Build a bridge and get over it.

Even if I got off my tail to do so, I haven’t the time or the materials to build this bridge. The skies are turning dark and the ground, cold. I have no desire to change these unpleasant conditions, so I have no hope. Without hope and desire, my magic is worthless. Without my magic, because I am yet to build that first bridge over the whole “magic definesme” thing. How worthless of me. Good day.

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