Gervic in Wonderland

[E-2] Pig and Pepper :: The Cheshire Cat

E. Pig and Pepper
The Cheshire Cat

Write a short story or poem of a most cunning person with the phrase “with the grin of a Cheshire Cat” used somewhere within. (<1000 words) or (<40 lines)

Continuation to [B-3] The Pool of Tears :: Où est ma chatte?

The woman, a creature of moss and moonlight with eyes the color of deep water, led me on. Each step deeper into the woods brought a nagging unease twisting in my gut. Yes, her gestures had seemed kind – but hadn't there been something… calculated in the tilt of her head, the way her smile lingered just a second too long? Her strides were purposeful, as if she'd walked this path a thousand times, while I stumbled behind, branches and thorns tearing at my clothes. Had she truly understood me, or was 'lost cat' a pantomime easily exploited?

With a flicker of her hand, she abruptly vanished behind a wall of shimmering ferns. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm – escape, turn back, run. But then, a flicker of black and white stripes darted through the foliage. A surge of desperate hope pushed me forward, and I crashed through the barrier.

A clearing opened up – no village, but an arena of smooth, worn stone under a canopy so dense sunlight barely dared to pierce. It felt ancient, purposeful. In the center, not Cheshire, but a gargantuan cat lounged. Its eyes, pools of liquid gold, fixed on me with a lazy intensity that made my blood run cold. The familiar stripes adorned it, but not in playful patterns - they were etched like scars, like warnings. A sinking realization washed over me – this was no overgrown housecat.

My guide reappeared, the warmth in her eyes replaced by a sharp gleam that spoke of knowledge I didn't possess. Had this been a lure, a cruel game, and I the unwitting player? My heart plummeted, and with it, the dam holding back my anger burst.

The gargantuan cat rose to its paws, a slow-motion earthquake, and gave a rumbling yawn. Its teeth were longer than my fingers, promising not purrs, but pain. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but a stubborn defiance rose. I was a pawn, an experiment – but no one's easy prey.

Cheshire's name tore from my mouth, half a cry, half a desperate command. The creature tilted its head, ears twitching, a predator gauging a new sound.

"He's not here, girl," a voice like the scrape of stones echoed. I spun, finding a figure cloaked in leaves and vines hidden in the shadows. As they stepped forward, their face revealed the uncanny beauty of my guide twisted by a calculated smirk. "Welcome to my domain, newcomer. You want your precious pet? Well, games have rules here, and you've just walked onto my board."

A wave of nausea washed over me. Was this a trickster god, a hunter who used humans for sport? I fingered my phone, a useless hunk of metal that was now a comforting weight. Back home, this would be an impossible dream, a campfire tale. Yet, the adrenaline coursing through me wasn't fear, but a cold focus. In my city jungle, cunning was currency – you bartered, scammed, and out-thought your rivals. I might have stumbled into their forest, but my lessons in survival weren't so easily forgotten.

I'd play their way, with the grin of a Cheshire Cat plastered on my face. I'd bargain, learn their rules, and watch for their weaknesses. And when I found Cheshire, we'd disappear into this strange land, leaving their games and dangers far behind. I might be lost, but I'd be damned if I'd be played.

WORD COUNT:
508 Words

In the manGer(vic), He sleeps
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