Blend of Luck

A Short Story


Sianna Blackwell, Editor, Lit Mag

Black cats are always known to be one of two things: they can either bring good luck or they can bring bad luck. A lot of people are superstitious- if you break a mirror it’s seven years of bad luck or if you jinx yourself and knock on wood, you’re protected from the strange workings of the universe. What if I told you that black cats aren’t the bringers of bad luck, but that they, themselves, have the unlucky draw?

I, a magnificent black cat with a soft luscious coat of fur, have gone through the motions of people’s apprehension with a little bad luck. Would you believe me if I told you that I was soft-hearted and kind? Or would you believe me if I told you I was ferocious and gluttonous? The answer is simple: you would pick the latter. With my luck, many do not bother to spare me a second glance; they have their own perception of what a cat should be. However, I am not a regular cat. I may enjoy the affection of others, but I also switch and can be quite cruel. I have rough patches of fur that might seem unappealing; scars from previous misfortunes, but I have redeeming qualities, too. 

I can be loving or euphoric, but I can also be overbearing and spread like wildfire in the wind causing me to be far from calm and collected. I tend to push people away at times and deceive them with my looks and actions. I do not mean this, if I could be different I would. I would use my paws to toss salt over my shoulder for any amount of luck I could get. I would choose to be a golden retriever that gets treats every time they follow a simple command. Dogs are a man’s best friend, known to always be by their side; they are the type of people to be forever loving and collective. I, however, tend to stray away from people as I can get overwhelmed and frustrated. People leave because I am not a simple black cat. I am a mixture; a blend, my colors overlap, some more prominent than the next. 

Showing my true colors ends up making me the bringer of bad luck. I don’t blame people for being scared, my colors all mix and make me look dark and cruel. However, I hope that one day a curious cat will realize I do not kill. My fleece may be rough like sandpaper because of unfortunate decisions from the past; my complicated mind causes me to portray unpleasant actions. But if you get close enough you might be able to smell the sweet hint of vanilla from it. You may notice my darker eyes, unusual for cats like me- looking like a soft chocolate that you find yourself lost in over time. Though I cannot change who likes my fur, I can change how I think about myself.

I peer at my fur and think about all the colors that have to mix to achieve this beauty. I look at the rough patches of fur, and remember how much they used to hurt. I did not know if I could bear the pain, yet I did. I endured the pain of loss, I experienced the lonely evenings, I suffered the sorrowful nights, and I tolerated the hours of mourning. I may be unlucky at times, but I have luck in places I never thought to look. I learned to love my disorderly mind despite the fact that I may not understand how it works. I learned to love my lack of luck. I may have gotten the unlucky draw but it was the luckiest thing I have ever known to have: I am a black cat that brings many kinds of luck, but only the luckiest of us will get the privilege to receive it.