Calypso and the Moon

*TRIGGER WARNING: The following content contains depictions of graphic animal violence.

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CALYPSO THE CAT HELD HER HEAD high as she strutted the sidewalk, black fur illuminated beneath the moonlight. The ancient lamps of Caibeyo Circle burned brilliantly against the night sky. Her feline peers tracked her movement from the shadows of the surrounding homes. This block was her domain, and they would not even think to suggest otherwise.

     Settling into the nightly routine, Calypso stretched long with a deep purr, her glowing coat shimmering for all eyes to see. This may be a dog’s town in the residents’ cushy homes, but cats dominated these streets, with Calypso suitably atop the monarchy. As Queen, she held the coveted first pick for the nightly course. Her subjects mewed hungrily as she haughtily stalked the lampposts, her air of frivolity serving only to test the patience of her queendom.

     It had been four weeks since her previous owner had brought home the newest member of their family—a short, stubby, black-and-white mutt that was a hound of some sort. It had barely been three days when the dog decided to nap on her favorite doormat, a grievance that Calypso could really only answer with a swipe of her claws to the dog's face. The mutt’s pathetic cries from the minuscule scratch invoked Mother’s wrath to such degree that one would think that Mother's own goddess of nightly prayerful ritual was on the receiving end of Calypso’s scrape. Within minutes, Calypso was dumped onto the cold sidewalk, an indifferent new moon barely lighting the path towards living or dying of her own accord.

     Of course, for Calypso, there would be no other way forward than to not only live, but to claim and consume all her emptied heart had thus desired.

     It was only fair. Only just.

     The subsequent nights on the street were ones of bitter indignation under the light of a waxing moon. Scaling and bounding upon the rickety streetlamps of Caibeyo Circle, she lapped up the thick oil from the base of each burning flame with many delightful flicks of her tongue. The lonely sidewalks echoed the emptiness of her heart—no one around to admire her craftiness, no warm strokes upon her flawless fur. But every passing night brought with it a new facet of strength that stripped away Calypso's reliance upon human blessings. Her slender form bounding in the night quickly became the stuff of suburban legend. Whether it was humans admonishing her or felines aspiring to be her, the Queen had her audience. 

     As her heart became fortified with the prowess of queendom, so the sidewalks became filled with adoring subjects. The canine trend spread like wildfire, and soon, every home on Caibeyo Circle had their own dog named Buddy or Luna or Sparky or Daisy to ruffle the sheets, shred up the carpets, and track dirty paw-prints across kitchen tile, leaving no room for cats in the chaotic equation. The shadows between houses birthed a multitude of houseless felines searching for comfort in a cold suburban world.

     The feasting Calypso looked down from her oily throne as a curious cat emerged from a nearby porch shadow, curling its head to watch Calypso engorge herself with lamp oil. Soon, several cats crowded the street circle—some lain across the sidewalk, others perched on fences or rooftops—all observing the black cat above enjoying the wet delicacy.

     One cat finally perked up enough courage to get a taste for himself. Calypso caught him at the corner of her eye creeping towards a lamppost base and placing his paws down to begin the climb. The Queen hissed and leapt effortlessly atop the adjacent lamp, a low growl edging from her throat as she gave the small cat a wide-eyed glare, just daring him to place a paw on one of her lampposts. He, in fact, dared not, and backed away slowly to retreat behind a bush. Calypso spread her glare to the surrounding crowd of felines. They all cowered slowly into the shadows, a collective gesture of fearful obeisance. The boundaries of her queendom had been set. Calypso sat up straight, pleased with herself that the message was received. She returned to the lamp to finish her oily beverage, then with a quiet belch, leapt down to the concrete below and made her way to the grass, nuzzling under her lone berry bush.

     Days passed, the moon waxed fuller, and Calypso's routine became unspoken law. Her subjects remained in the shadows every night so as to allow her full breadth of choice for the evening's dinner course. Calypso drank to her satisfaction and more, then turned in, freeing the street circle for indulgent revelry. The cul-de-sac became a flurry of paws and whiskers hurtling through the night for a taste of their Queen's delicacies. 

     Calypso watched contentedly from the sideline, enjoying the controlled chaos that she originated. She'd almost forgotten about the carpeted warmth of that house, the sweet aroma from Mother's hair, or her favorite doormat to sleep on before it was spoiled by that wretched dog. 

What was that mutt's name again?

     Calypso’s eyes fluttered open as she stirred from the most perfect nap. She perched herself atop the neighborhood's highest branch to observe the night's coveted bounty, swaying like an endless ocean of warm and wet delights. Each lamp stood as a mighty wave ready to hold her aloft, obeying her every wish for abundant satisfaction. The oil reserve at the base of each lamp had been refilled that very day by the usual public servants, and the feline horde was primed for their banquet.

     Caibeyo Circle was a brilliant circlet of flickering lamplight, each post blazing with their fresh dose of fuel, yet it was no match for the ivory gleam burning from the heavens above. Moonbeams fine as glass broke through the trees, forming Calypso’s dappled runway. The full moon sat proudly behind her head as a regal diadem, crowning her the celestial Queen in grand entrance.

     As Calypso stalked the high branch, she leisurely observed the glowing eyes of her subjects watching her from the shadows. She wondered if it was truly admiration, or fear that drove them so? Drove them to survive, to listen and uphold the rules of her queendom. Calypso carried herself with the full confident demeanor of one who could crush them on a whim, and they were not ones to test that outcome. But in the end, they were just as she was when she first found herself without a home—cold, lost, hungry. Forced to live on the street after their former owners decided that dogs were more well-suited for family companionship. It spread like a sickness through their neighborhood until every house was afflicted with the mongrel disease.

     The cats watched her every hallowed step with the white halo moon hovering above her. To them, she was a goddess. A force of nature. A silhouette of power and promise. They feared her, yet aspired to be her. The significance of this role was not lost on Calypso, for she accepted it with grace and gravitas. But in each tiny face cowering in the darkness, there was a bit of herself there, still fearful of the cold lamplight that greeted her after being shunned from those she had once loved. Abandoned, just like the rest of them.

     Now, that light had become a warm flame of liberation from those deceitful shells they once called their homes. The glow of Caibeyo Circle was a torch beared by Calypso to guide her kin from the canine plague that gripped their neighborhood. She held the burden of their hopes. All she needed now was more strength. Strength to lift them all up to a life of glorious circumstance, free of such canine curses.

     But alas, being well past midnight now, the time for feeding had come, and the oil of many lamps swirled with ripeness. She eyed the center lamp at the head of the street—her favorite. With a leap into an expert scaling of concrete, she was atop the spires of the lamp, a throne for all her queendom to see. The oil was filled to the brim with the opening between the flaming top and base calling Calypso's name. In previous weeks, her consumption had been a showy display of her greater pedigree and self-centered desires fulfilled. But tonight, beneath the full moon, she felt differently.

     She surveyed her feline empire, locking eyes with each and every follower. The cats raised their heads in unison. In acknowledgement of their collective belief, she licked up a generous gulp of precious oil. The edge of the moon shimmered delicately behind her. Oil rushed down her throat, all smoky with woody undertones. The surrounding cats licked their lips and stepped forward with anticipation. Calypso took another drink, this time for the prosperous fortune of her queendom. The moon's edge continued to shimmer and vibrate. 

Her next gulp was for the swift end of every dog intruding within their town. More shimmers from the moon.

     Another swig was lapped up by the Queen, this one specifically for the demise of that insufferable mutt that was no doubt slobbering all over her formerly favored doormat. More shimmers.

     Another drink.

     Shimmers.

     That mutt with the name that she could hardly bear to speak, let alone ponder.

     Drink.

     Shimmers.

     Drink.

     Shimmers.

     Drink.

     The shimmering morphed into a strange rippling at the mark of five upon the moon's clock face. Calypso continued to engorge the oil, and the corner of the moon responded to every lick with more warping, rippling and throbbing upon the white surface. Calypso's combination of lapping tongue and smacking lips grew louder, echoing all around Caibeyo Circle, amplified by some dark nature. The blackness of the night shrouded closer and closer, bringing prominence to the Queen's yellow eyes that shined brightly for all her subjects to see.

     Her tongue continued splashing oil. Every greedy lick brought the lamp's flame lower to resembling a matchstick. The ancient lamp's reserve of oil at the base was nearly siphoned out completely, and from the surface of the world, a thimble-sized chunk of the moon was rippling out of existence. The cats took notice and sat perfectly still, awaiting for whatever outcome while still anticipating a taste of the oil themselves. Everything went silent, save for the steady lapping of a parched queen. With one last repulsive gulp, the lamp died out, taking a chunk of the moon with it. The shimmering surface on the edge had given way to a half-circle hole, revealing the black void of space behind it. 

     The head of Caibeyo Circle went dark—a darkness that sent a wave of uneasiness over the spectating cats. Even the lingering light from the remaining lamps down the street could not halt the gloom, as if the partial departing of the moon had somehow diminished the world's luminescence. Any hint of warmth in the night had vanished, leaving only Calypso, her followers, and the bent darkness between. She took calm breaths as she felt the oil swim around her belly. Satisfaction rose within her, along with an eagerness to share these delicacies with her queendom. Calypso raised her paw in preparation for her leap to the street below—the signal flag for her subjects to begin their banquet. Her paws landed on the concrete without a sound. She looked up to see her cats emerge from the shadows, but none came. No rustling of bushes, no hungry purrs. Only silence.

     But Calypso was no longer searching for her followers. Her sight was fixed dead ahead, the yellow glow of her eyes piercing through the shadows. Her body stood rigid, legs perfectly erect. A cold wind rushed through Caibeyo Circle as Calypso's shoulders began to shudder then shift upwards in violent, jagged motions, growing longer and wider against her will. The joints of her legs stretched out and folded in on themselves unnaturally. Strange ruptures appeared along the length of her fur as if some other living thing was inside her, desperate to break free. All over her body, bones cracked and ligaments tore, filling the night air with sickening crunches.

     Calypso shut her eyes and meowed in pain, but the process continued without letup. She fell forward in a heap of writhing bones and fur. The feline followers caught sight of her wide yellow eyes silently begging to end her agony, but no help would come. The cats were gripped in fear at what appeared to be the excruciating final phase of the transformation. As her body continued to violently quiver, her thoughts fixed upon one face: Mother. The only one who, at one time, could wash away such horror with the safety of her arms and warmth of her smile. Calypso wanted so desperately to leap forward into her loving embrace, but Mother's arms already held another. That infernal mutt of hers!

     Calypso hissed and convulsed as the pain intensified. All she could picture now was the dog's horrible name. A name she could hardly bear to speak. Her bones made another great crunch to realize her new form. Rising to her four paws, Calypso hunched forward as her back legs made their final stretch, bent at the knee and revealing bare pink skin at her extremities. Her shoulders were now six feet above the ground, and her length more than doubled the distance. Some cats meowed in repulsion at the hulking frame of their Queen. Others fled the street in fear. Most stood in cautious watch of Calypso's next move now that the metamorphosis had subsided.

     Where there was once pain in the Queen's body was now only hot, burning anger. She stretched her head forward in a menacing twist of neck, eyeing her former house at the end of the street. Through the vertical window by the front door, she saw the dog sprawled out with his back against the door, sleeping soundly. A few drops of saliva slid off her tongue and cascaded onto the concrete. A low purr began to build as she withdrew onto her back legs, her front paws hanging in the air and her body arched menacingly. She experimented with various registers of meows behind her closed mouth until she reached something of a low, snarling growl accompanied by sickly gurgling at the back of her throat. Her anger boiled to thoughts, her thoughts morphed into a word—a single word upon which she poured every bit of loss, rejection, and malice:

     "Poppy."

     The name, the name!

     "Poppy."

     That damned mutt's name!

     "Poppy. Poppy. POPPY."

     The hunger for blood. The gaining of power. The marking for death. It all coursed through Calypso's veins. She stepped forward towards the house.

     The spectating felines sat in wide-eyed horror at the twisted mutation of their Queen, backing deeper into the shadows to let her pass through. Calypso locked eyes with each of them while her body continued to convulse with moonlit power.

     At long last, chimed her inner thoughts. The strength to lift us to our higher calling is upon me. 

     The first casualty would be that one called Poppy. Next, all the dogs that inhabited her subjects' former homes. She knew what she must do, and she felt all too eager to accomplish it.

     May death guide us into the new life.

     Her ears and neck twitched uncontrollably, causing the cats to cower even further. Calypso purred lowly and stomped forward with purpose. Her purr rose into a dreadful growl as she approached the front door of the house.

     Let my presence be known.

     Her growl burst into a guttural roar. The dog that was once asleep by the door leapt up in alert, but it was too late.

     I'm home!

     Calypso unsheathed her claws and swiped a massive paw at the door. Shards of wood exploded into the night. Metal framing moaned as Calypso squeezed her hulking frame through the entryway. The mutt's barks filled the house as he took in the sight of the monstrous visitor. Calypso's eyes were as bewitching daggers baring into the dog's tiny face.

     "Poppy," she groaned. 

     The dog responded with more barks, much louder this time. Calypso stalked forward.

     "POPPY."

     The dog backed itself onto the bottom step of the stairs leading upwards. He appeared determined to face off against the Queen, and Calypso was all the more delighted to oblige. Her mouth was agape, saliva leaking ravenously. She raised a paw. Her elongated claws glistened in the moonlight that poured through the entryway.

     "POPPY," repeated Calypso. Death to this canine curse!

     A glass bottle collided with Calypso's snout, spraying glass across her yellow eyes. She recoiled in shock, but felt no pain. She shook her head to clear the debris, and when she opened her eyes, she saw her. The Mother that had left her behind. Calypso twitched with a former affection that had shriveled away to near-nothingness.

     Mother had tucked the barking Poppy under her arm and began backing up the staircase. The other arm was outstretched towards the monstrous Queen, palm facing out in a defensive stance. For a moment, Calypso softened her demeanor and stepped forth in the way she used to when she was seeking her Mother's warm embrace. Calypso gurgled with strained effort to spew out a harsh and small meow. Mother's eyes widened in familiarity.

     "Calypso?" she gasped.

     The Queen meowed again, more broad and excited, but this only pushed Mother to withdraw in fear. Calypso couldn't stand that look of hatred! It was that raving mutt in her arms that robbed her of Mother's love! Calypso hissed at Poppy, ready to pounce. Mother threw her shoe and turned to flee upstairs.

     Run if you must! But no where is safe for that dog you adore!

     Calypso leapt to the stop of the stairs just as Mother whipped around the corner, screaming with panic.

     Yes, scream! Scream for the pain of the emptiness left in my wake.

     Mother fled to the bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. The Queen could not contain her glee. She wailed with excitement and gave the bedroom door a long scratch with her claws.

     "Poppyyy..." she moaned with lustful hunger.

     With one push of her massive paw, Mother's door came crashing to the floor. Poppy's frantic barks filled the room as Calypso crouched into a murderous stalk.

     "No! Stay back!" Mother's tears streamed down her cheeks, but Calypso knew her pain would only last for as long as the mutt inhabited this house. A problem that Calypso was ready to bring to a permanent end. Poppy stepped forward protectively with his barks more threatening now, but it was a futile defense against the monstrous Queen.

     "Poppy, no!" yelled Mother. "Run! Get away!" But the small hound would not relent. Calypso stepped into the pool of saliva that had formed at her feet. Her meal presented himself so readily, and she could not wait another moment for gratification. One quick lunge and her claws were dug into each side of Poppy's body. The helpless dog yelped in pain as Calypso lifted him up and straight to her mouth. A sickening crunch echoed through the house, and Poppy's barking ceased. Blood and innards spilled onto the floor as Mother was racked with agonizing cries and sobbing. 

     Calypso released from her fangs what was left of Poppy's body. When it thudded to the floor in a foul squelch, the monstrous feline stood there, panting and frozen in place. The dog's thick blood dripped profusely into a puddle around her paws, filling the room with a metallic stench.

     Between her spasms of crying, Mother choked out, "Monster! I always hated you!"

     Calypso's eyes fluttered to Mother as she backed tighter against the wall. She twitched with bafflement at the injurious notion. The purge of the canine curse had begun, yet Mother did not embrace her with reception nor gratitude. Calypso turned towards the white moon outside the window. Its surface was still absent of the small mass that had disappeared along with the lamp oil in her stomach. She stood there in the center of the room, transfixed and panting. Mother inched herself over the flat door then out to the hall.

     "Hated you..." The words found their own way out of Calypso's throat through to her bloody lips.

     "Hated you." She felt the destructive brew of moonlight and oil swirl within her as she observed Poppy's half-body at her feet. Her power had wrought swift destruction to the one she hated most, and she knew it was only the beginning.

     "Hated you!" Baring her claws, she continued with her gruesome meal, savoring the taste of every drop of blood to know fully what was in store for her conquest.

     May these streets know that there is no safe place to stow their beloved companions.

     No more would her people live in the shadows.

     Stash your dogs beneath the floor and I will tear the boards up with them between my teeth.

     No more would the canine curse govern their lives. 

     Your Queen, Calypso, begins her—!

     A white-hot explosion of nerves and pain ricocheted through Calypso's body. She went up on her hind legs, screeching in agony. Her vision became filled with splotches of black and white, disorienting her as she tried to gain her footing to no avail. A second burst of pain ruptured within her, this one more decisively crumbling any strength left within her legs. Her massive form came crashing to the floor in a puddle of blood behind her, her body trembling and contorting bit by bit, until at last, she shrunk back down to her original form. Next to Poppy's body, she was once again the scrawny cat that was banned to the streets. Calypso scanned the floorboards through blurry eyes for some explanation, and found it in the limp shape of a severed tail coated with black fur.

     It was her own tail laying lifeless before her, and her own blood pooled around her. It coursed out from where the blade had sliced it through, sending a throbbing sensation that racked the Queen's whole body. Lying on her side, she looked up and glimpsed the moon through the window—until Mother hobbled forward holding a bloody kitchen knife. It was the same large knife she would use to prep her and Calypso's dinners those many nights ago when the name Poppy had not existed. Mother opened the window, catching her breath between sobs with knife still in hand.

     Calypso gazed at her heaving back and was able to mutter forth one word. "Hate."

     Mother whipped her head around, eyes wide with fear and anger. She raised the knife. 

Their eyes locked for what felt to be an eternity, until the knife clattered to the floor. Mother walked over to Poppy's body and collapsed to her knees with face in hand, pained sobs racking her whole body.

     Calypso returned her gaze to the moon, white and beaming in all its glory. The missing fragment had returned to its rightful place, returning the moon to proper fullness in the black sky. Any trace of power had relinquished itself from the Queen's body, taking her remaining life with it, along with any hope of lifting her people to glorious circumstance. She wheezed with remorse, wishing only to see her followers' faces one last time.

     She closed her eyes to welcome the bitter end, but reopened them upon the noise of collective splashes filling the outside air. Mother ceased her crying and stood up to look outside the window to Caibeyo Circle. But Calypso did not need to see outside to know what was taking place. She would only need to observe the moon.

     The street stretched forth into the night with countless lamps lining the sidewalks, and each one had a cat perched upon it, drinking each oil supply vigorously.

     "What is this?" breathed Mother aloud, her voice quivering with horror. Calypso felt a quiet sense of exhilaration rise within her upon hearing Mother's words. She observed a hollow cavity in the moon opening upon the white surface, right next to another cavity taking shape. The sound of many tongues lapping up oil roared within Calypso's ears as she panted her final, satisfied breaths. Lapping, lapping, lapping—it filled the night with a slippery deluge of oil rushing down ravenous gullets.

     In the sky, the full moon had countless chasms blooming upon its surface until there was nearly a black void hanging in its place. A nightmare of trypophobia in the night sky. On Caibeyo Circle, the oil lamps slowly went out, one by one. The black holes of the moon gave way to an overhanging abyss, and all that could be seen now were glowing, yellow eyes lining the street. A pair for every light that was gone. Mother gave a dismayed whimper and stepped away from the window. Calypso the Queen breathed her last.

     The lapping had ceased, and where the world's light once hung was only the low, snarling growls from greedy throats, uttering the banes of their collective existence.

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By C.G. Urso
This is an entry from the Landscape Archive

File under Dark Fantasy / Gothic Fiction / Ominous World

Published 12/19/2025

Copyright © 2025 by C.G. Urso

All rights reserved.

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