***
When Abby went out to pick strawberries from the backyard pots in the morning, she could almost have sworn she heard something like a whimper or some other sound from the neighbor's back yard. It wasn't the first time and she tried not to think about it. Mama said there was something off about the neighbors. She didn't know what "off" was but Abby always felt something strange, too. Daddy said Mama had the sight. Abby didn't know what that was, either, but Abby knew the neighbors didn't feel right.
They were always angry, especially the man, with his big face, always red, his nostrils flaring, his cheeks shiny with sweat. The woman was just the opposite, hair graying, cheeks faded, eyes colorless. And the boy! Abby shuddered.
Abby bet that boy knew what happened to Kismet. He looked like he was lying, not looking right at her when she talked to him. He always did that when she saw him.
A soft jingle caught her attention. Abby wiped her hands on the towel—Mama hated when she wiped her dirty hands on her shorts—and turned toward the fence that separated her yard from the neighbor's
A kitten, gray and black stripes with a white underside, slipped through the chain link. It jingled slightly as it walked, the bell on its sparkly purple collar sounding. Its face was dirty and it gripped something between its tiny sharp teeth.
Abby knew that collar
Abby dropped the basket and squatted beside the kitten, who regarded her calmly with large blue eyes and a tail up in a friendly way. Her fingers found the collar and noted the name on it—"Kismet."
"Guess Kismet isn't coming back." She wasn't sure how she knew that, but the kitten clearly had Kismet's collar, several sizes too big. Tears stung her eyes, but the kitten leapt up on to her knee and began to purr.
Abby wiped the kitty's face with a towel, pleased that all the dirt or whatever came off. She didn't want to know what the pale scrap of something—not cloth but something slimy and cold—was in its mouth, so she grabbed it with the towel, then, still holding it in the cloth, flung it over the fence, nearly sending her towel with it. She shuddered again and told herself those had not been black hairs on it.
The kitten weaved between her feet, purring, rubbing its head against her ankles.
Strawberries and basket forgotten, Abby gathered up the kitten, suddenly positive Kismet had sent the kitten to her, making sure she wasn't alone, making sure she was safe. Best not to think of her neighbor right now, or what Kismet had had to do.
It's not good to mess with fate.