Empty Lies

Hello to all my readers!! Just a quick blurb before the story actually begins—first order of business, I realize the title sucks. Actually, it sounds cool, but it really has nothing to do with the story, I just suck at thinking up titles. Second, the plot for this story was thought up in a really random dream I had, so be patient if the first few chapters confuse you, I promise it will all be wrapped up at the end. And third, if any of you are familiar with my Ratatouille fic "Away", (yep, another crappy title), I WILL EVENTUALLY FINISH THAT. I haven't forgotten about it, don't worry, just taking a creative break to write more random stories. And, last but certainly not least, the disclaimer:

I do not own the TV show "Top Cat". That would be Hanna-Barbera. I am just a huge fan of the show (I watch it weekday mornings because it happens to be on while I eat breakfast), and decided this might make a good story.

Enjoy!! BTW, the more reviews I get, the faster I update, so PLEASE REVIEW!! :)

The Alley was eerily quiet.

A group of forlorn, uninhabited trash cans gleamed silver in the moonlight by a rickety picket fence, where there also sat piles of disorganized newspapers and discarded bottles. All in all, the Alley was a mess. It had been so for a year.

The policeman whose regular duty it was to patrol the Alley hadn't bothered to clean it. This was strange, for the policeman was a highly dedicated and professional man who, in the past, had always demanded that this particular alley be clean.

But now he didn't care.

Because the Alley was empty.

The policeman stopped in his rhythmic walk to glance over at the trash cans, one in particular, by a telephone pole. That one trash can, sides slightly dented and lid askew, stared back at him as if daring him to remember.

He took the dare. He remembered when this alley was a home, when it was filled with constant sound, constant life, fairly vibrating from the space the Alley inhabited. He remembered when this alley used to be the most dreaded stop on his beat—and, at the same time, his favorite.

Now it was anything but his favorite.

Because the Alley was empty.

The policeman walked on, his memory clouded by six familiar faces he was trying to forget and still remember at the same time.

At least he knew five of them were alive and well—he'd made sure of that through a little 'investigation' using his connections. But one face refused to go away, even for a little while. It had stayed for a whole year, sometimes retreating into the back of his mind but always present nonetheless.

The urge became too powerful. With an almost emotionless face, the policeman reached into his jacket pocket (which was actually quite large for a pocket), and slowly pulled out a crumpled purple hat.

Finally, the policeman let his guard down. Memories floated up to the surface as they only seemed to do in this alley, like this was the last time he'd have the unsavory privilege of revisiting them.

A lone tear ran down Officer Dibble's cheek as he trudged onward through the Alley.