MEGAN

AND THE

LOST CAT

A Spirit Guide, A Ghost Tiger and One Scary Mother!

by

OWEN JONES

Copyright © January 7th 2015 Owen Jones

Megan and the Lost Cat

by Owen Jones

Published by

Megan Publishing Services

https://meganthemisconception.com

The right of Owen Jones to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988. The moral right of the author has been asserted.

In this work of fiction, the characters, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or they are used entirely fictitiously.

All rights reserved.

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http://owencerijones.com

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Other novellas in the same series:

The Psychic Megan Series

A Spirit Guide, A Ghost Tiger and One Scary Mother!

The Misconception

Megan’s Thirteenth

Megan’s School Trip

Megan’s School Exams

Megan’s Followers

Megan and the Lost Cat

Megan and the Mayoress

Megan Faces Derision

Megan’s Grandparents Visit

Megan’s Father Falls Ill

Megan Goes on Holiday

Megan and the Burglar

Megan and the Cyclist

Megan and The Old Lady

Megan’s Garden

Megan Goes To The Zoo

Megan Goes Hiking

Megan and the W. I. Cookery Competition

Megan Goes Riding

Megan Goes Yachting

Megan at Carnival

Megan’s Christmas

Megan Catches Covid-19

DEDICATION

This edition is dedicated to my wife, Pranom Jones, for making my life as easy as she can. She makes a great job of it.

Karma will repay everyone in just kind.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

1 Suzanne on Communication

2 Megan Sees the Poster

3 Megan Finds Smokey

4 Megan’s Reputation Grows

5 Wacinhinsha

Glossary

The Disallowed

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Thanks are due to the artists who designed the cover for me,

Getcovers

1 SUZANNE ON COMMUNICATION

Megan was intrigued by the talk Wacinhinsha and Dr. Jenkins had given her the other night on communication, and so, like most people, she wanted to talk about what was uppermost on her mind.

“Mam, what do you think about communication?”

“Pardon? Communication? On the telephone, you mean? I don’t know much about mobile phones, my dear?”

“No, I don’t mean mobile phones themselves, I mean just talking, really, and body language… That sort of thing.”

“You’re not going to start all that nonsense about Auras again, are you?”

“No, not if you don’t want me to, but that is a form of communication too, like body language and intonation and mood. It is all part of communication, as is speech. In fact, it may be even more reliable than speech, because people can tell lies and hide their true feelings very easily, but they cannot hide what they cannot control.”

“That’s as may be, but I don’t believe in the Aura, stupid lights and ghosts and things.”

It was the first instance that Megan had had to practice what Wacinhinsha had taught her in the company of an accomplished liar. Megan could see by her mother’s Aura that she was telling lies, but there was something else too. She was not lying to be malicious, she was lying to herself because she was afraid of admitting to herself that such things existed, despite the fact that she knew that they did, because she too had had first-hand experience of them, but it had been ‘frightened’ out of her by her mother thirty-odd years ago.

Megan watched the colours swirl and change in her mother’s Aura as her emotions flickered from the greys of fear to the greens of understanding, all written over the yellow-gold of love for her daughter. Megan could feel, as well as see, the confusion in her mother and knew instantly that Wacinhinsha had told her the truth again, not that there had ever been any doubt in her mind about that, as he had never said anything to her so far that had not been true, whereas her mother was so obviously lying to her now.

Wacinhinsha had been right when he had said that a lot of people might want to turn this ‘gift’ of second sight off, because it was not easy knowing that your mother was a liar even to her own daughter. It was not a nice feeling at all and she found it so hard not to judge her mother armed with this unassailable knowledge. However, it had been one of Wacinhinsha’s early lessons, not to judge people, because everyone is fighting an inner battle, that the observer knows nothing about. The sensitive could see the battle raging, as Megan could now, but they didn’t always know what it was about or with.

In this case, Megan knew, but the knowing did not help. It still hurt that her mother would willingly try to deceive her in a matter that she knew was so important to her and for which she had even been sentenced to hours of fear in the pitch-black darkness of the scary coal cellar.

Megan looked down at Grrr, who was lying at her feet and smiled. Grrr licked her lips and swished her tail in her own display of mixed emotions, which were themselves her reaction to her friend Megan’s mixed emotions of love for and disappointment with her mother. She knew that this would be a part of the pattern of their relationship for the rest of their lives, which was depressing, but it made her understand the importance of not judging others, for if she judged everyone, and took her findings to heart, then her life would be full of loneliness and disappointment.

Therefore, being non-judgemental was a means of self-protection, an armour, not a sign of weakness.

“Megan, Megan! Are you listening to a word I’m saying? Wakey, wakey!”

“Sorry, Mam, I was miles away, what were you saying again?”

“I was saying that I don’t believe in the Aura, but I was going to say that I do think that body language is very important. I found Desmond Morris’s book on the subject, ‘The Naked Ape’ fascinating. It explains how much information about what we are thinking we give away with our body language without even being aware of it.

“Since reading that book, I have been practicing giving nothing away at all. I recommend that you read it.”

“Surely, Mam, by not behaving ‘normally’, or naturally, you are giving away the fact that you are trying to hide something. Therefore, one might presume that you have had some education on the subject. One might further presume that you were not studying the topic at university, because of your age, so it would be a good guess that you have read a book on it and, if Desmond Morris’s book is the best, an astute person might surmise that you are trying not to give away your true feelings, as you used to before reading the book on it, which would most likely have been Desmond Morris’s ‘The Naked Ape’.

“That is as good as saying ‘I am a practised liar, beware of me and everything I say!”

“Don’t be a smart Alec! Of course nobody is going to think that, except perhaps you, Miss Smarty Pants.”

Megan watched the lights flash and change around her mother, revealing her anger, embarrassment, annoyance and frustration, all hiding her love quite well.

“Do you still have Desmond Morris’s book, Mam?”

“Yes, it will be on the bookshelf in our bedroom. Would you like to borrow it?”

“Yes, please, if you don’t mind. I think I would find it very interesting.”

Suzanne went upstairs, fetched the book, sat down on the sofa next to Megan, put the book on the table and opened it to an inner page seemingly at random.

“Look here, for example. If you are talking to someone and the pupils of their eyes widen, you know pretty much for sure that they fancy you. Same goes if they play with their hair while talking to you or just point a foot at you.

“So, if you are in a room, just watch people sitting, standing and talking and you will learn a lot about who likes whom.”

“Mmm, very interesting, Mam. May I go to my room now and start reading it?”

“Yes, of course, I should be getting on with your Dad’s dinner anyway. It’s in the oven, but there’s still more to do and it won’t prepare itself. Come down when you hear your Dad come in, won’t you and please come down quietly.”

Megan got up, kissed her mother and left with Grrr at her side. She may have promised to come down quietly, but she ran up making the usual clatter that annoyed Suzanne so much, but which she never did on purpose.

Megan and Grrr jumped up onto the bed simultaneously, but it was only Megan’s weight which registered on the ceiling above her mother. Suzanne looked up and tutted again.

Megan read the book excitedly, but not because she wanted to hide her own feelings, she wanted to use Desmond Morris’ findings in conjunction with her own observances of the Aura under the same conditions because it would teach her what she was seeing in the Aura, confirm her own feelings or give her alternative explanations. In short, she was excited because this book could be the key to explaining the changing colours of the Aura that she had been looking for for so long. She could hardly wait to go to school the next day to test some of the things that she had read in the book.

She felt that she might be facing a new chapter in her life, a leap in enlightenment. Megan looked down at Grrr and said,

“What do you think, girl, good book or what?”

Grrr looked back, licked her lips, laid her ears back and then yawned widely.

It was a pity that the book didn’t have a chapter on cats, she thought, then Grrr got up and walked through the wall.

“So, that’s what you think of possibly the most educational book I’ll ever read?” she joked as the tip of Grrr’s tail followed its owner through the outside wall into the first floor of outside open space.

∞

When she went to school the next day, a Friday, Megan had read the introduction to the book and several chapters at random, as it did not appear to her to have be the read sequentially from cover to cover. She had found the chapters on friendship, family relationships and love the most interesting, but then that was not unusual, as most people read them first too.

The school day started with morning assembly, which was held in one of several different religions in rotation. She looked at the teachers sitting in an arc on the stage with the headmaster standing in the middle at the podium giving a service for the Protestant religion. Her teacher, Mrs. Henshaw’s feet were the only ones pointing at him and she had her eyes riveted on the back of his head. Megan had never noticed the pink and red swirling colours around her breast before. There was another colour there too though, a dark olive-green flowing in and out of the pink and red. It was obvious to Megan now that Mrs. Henshaw was in love with Mr. Hughes, the headmaster, which was not a problem because she was a widow, so what was the olive-green?

Could it be guilt, wondered Megan, because Mr. Hughes was married?

Guilt or frustration seemed the most likely, she thought she would have to look in the book to see whether those emotions were expressed in body language. For the time being, she just studied Mrs. Henshaw’s body language to see whether she could spot any other tell-tale signs that she could look up later in what had become her favourite book of all time overnight.

Once in the classroom, Megan could plainly see that the colours of love had gone, only to be replaced with the yellow-gold of goodwill, peace and contentment. She was a good woman and a great teacher and Megan knew no-one who would dispute that.

There were no more big shocks that day, but there were a few surprises and one pleasant, if unwelcome, confirmation. She saw the pupils of two boys widen when they spoke to her at break time, but she had never suspected that they liked her. Then there was John, everyone knew that he liked her, because he made no effort to hide it at all, in spite of all the ribbing he got for it.

However, in each case, Megan could plainly see the pink and red of varying degrees of love and the darker, slightly angry deep scarlet of lust, also in different intensities. This was also a mixed blessing, because while she liked to know who fancied her, she felt embarrassed to know which boys wanted to see her naked and what they were thinking of doing, if ever they should be so lucky.

The more she learned from Wacinhinsha and his fellow teachers, the more she realised that they were right and that there was much more to life than met the simple human eye.

Megan had always been a people watcher, but that day she did little else either in school or when walking around with her friends. She was concerned that traditional learning might take second place to her new hobby and she knew that she could not allow that to happen for a few years yet. For the time being, study at school had to have priority.

One thing that she had learned from watching people, was that many of them were watching her too. Desmond Morris’ book confirmed this although she had long known it. When she was walking to and from school in her uniform, it was not only the boys who were looking at her, but a lot of the men too, although perhaps the most embarrassing time for her was when she was playing hockey or netball in her short gym skirt and dark-green regulation knickers.

The boys’ eyes were all over her, but she could see that they were not only looking at her. They looked at all the girls, although poor Anne, with her thick thighs, got the least. She could also see that Anne realised it too and that she resented it, despite putting on a brave face. She tried all the crudest tricks to get them to notice her, like bending from the waist instead of the knees but her colours showed frustration, jealousy and anger when her tactics didn’t work, although her face looked as jovial as ever.

The pretty girls were mostly liars too though. When a boy stared at their legs, they would usually frown at him, but their colours flashed pride and joy.

Megan wondered what her Aura and body language revealed about her, but she would never know for sure, because it was the only one in the universe that she could not see at will. This, she realised was another reason for thinking only pure thoughts.

2 MEGAN SEES THE POSTER

On Saturday morning, Megan sprang out of bed full of life, as she normally did, at eight a.m., checked her phone for text messages and then checked her Facebook and Twitter accounts on her laptop.

She was also keeping up with her latest craze of blogging, so she wrote a five-hundred word blog post on her week at school and then another one on her discovery of Desmond Morris’ book.

Megan would have liked to have written another one on her conversations with Wacinhinsha, but she didn’t feel that it was her business to reveal the things that she had been taught and was not sure of her competence anyway.

After breakfast, Megan thought she would walk down to the local library, which was in the centre of town, so that she could continue to watch people. She bought some fruit and a bar of chocolate from stalls on the market and watched intently as the stall-holders reacted with her. They all called her ‘love’ or ‘darling’, but then that was normal for Feyton and no-one ever took any notice.

Armed with her new knowledge she searched hard for hidden meanings in the stall-holders’ faces, and was glad to find that there weren’t any, although it looked like the one who sold her the chocolate, was telling the truth when he said that he wished he were thirty years younger. Megan gave him an extra big smile, which she hoped was not being outrageously flirtatious or breaking the ‘rules’ of her newly-acquired intimate knowledge of other people’s thoughts and desires. It was a beautiful spring morning and Megan was feeling beautiful too and at peace with the world and everyone in it.

She walked into the library and greeted the librarian working behind the reception desk with a cheerful “Good Morning!”

“Morning,” was the muffled reply, so Megan smiled and looked at her. There was no smile back, but no animosity either, just a dull, bored ache of a look and a touch of grey sadness about the heart.

Megan’s first reaction was that she had had a fight with her boyfriend the night before and wished that she were with him now sorting it out, instead of sitting in work.

Megan took a few books from the shelves, including ‘The Naked Ape’ and leafed through them as she watched other people. She paid particular attention to people looking at other people and couples who were out together, be it older, married couples or younger boyfriend-girlfriend relationships.

She found it easy to come to a conclusion as to which people were in love or still in love and which were still together for other reasons best known to themselves, because with some couples, Megan could see too much grey when they looked at each other.

She presumed that some couples stayed together purely out of convenience or because they had no-one else to turn to, and some younger couples, mostly teenagers were only together for sex, companionship or the kudos of at least having a partner of some kind whether it was a good match or not.

She vowed never to let anything tedious like that happen to her.

Megan had tired of sitting in the library by noon because it was too much like being in school, although she had also finished all her snacks and was feeling peckish again. She was constantly torn between wanting to eat and not wanting to lose her waif-like figure, like most girls of her age and many others.

On the way out, a message on the notice board caught her eye:

“Missing: Siamese cat last seen Thursday night. Answers to the name of Smokey, but doesn’t always come when called. Should be wearing a blue collar with a small silver barrel attached, in which is our address and phone number.

“Reward for information leading to his recovery. Please phone *140854.

“PS, we miss her very much”

There was a photo attached of a large Siamese cat, its tail held erect and a haughty look in its pale blue eyes. Smokey was looking straight into the camera

Megan studied the photo intensely and looked deep into the cat’s eyes, while thinking his name over and over again. She took a photo of it with her mobile. Then Megan had an idea, she thought Grrr’s name and there she was. The problem was that she didn’t know how successful she was at talking to Grrr, even though she had been doing it every day for many years.

“Grrr, my old friend,” she thought, “this cat, Smokey, is lost. Do you think we can find him?”

Grrr looked at the photo and then at Megan, but gave nothing away that Megan could determine. She wasn’t sure what she had thought would happen, but nothing did, and she had expected more than that.

She bought some fish and chips as compensation on the market and a few oranges to salve her conscience for buying greasy food , and started walking home. In a way, she thought, she didn’t want Grrr to find Smokey, she wanted to find him all on her own by tugging on his matrix, yanking on his chain as Wacinhinsha had said, although how precisely that would lead to her finding Smokey’s location, she had no idea.

Even if Smokey did feel the tug and said where he was, it was not clear to Megan whether she would understand a cat’s reference to a place. As Dr. Jenkins had pointed out, even people of different nationalities have different ways of describing things. She was pretty sure that if Smokey were ‘trapped by the river’ that that would not be what he would say, although she had no idea of what an alternative could be.

However, Megan was determined to help so she concentrated on Smokey to just the point below what would be called meditation, which was just about all she could manage while walking on a pavement with other pedestrians on it.

When she got home, she asked her parents,

“There’s a missing cat in the town and they are asking for help to find him. Smokey is his name; he’s a pretty big Siamese cat. I have a photo here, look. I would love to be the one to find him, but I don’t know how to go about it. How