Excellent What do you Really Know About Your Cat? Death Comes on Tiny Feet by RaymondJohn

Category:  Horror and Thriller Fiction   Posted:  March 9, 2009      Views: 513

RAYMONDJOHN  IN PRINT   ABOUT RAYMONDJOHN  Raymond John is a hopeless FanStory addict who has at times spent as many as twelve hours in a single day reading, reviewing and writing for the site. His three purposes are based on three "Es" which are Explain, Enlighten and Entertain. His greatest fear is to take himself too seriously. He may not always smile, but he always has a twinkle in his eye. Knock his socks off with a fantastic write and he'll be your best cheerleader and give you a banner award, to boot. He has written two novels and numerous short works. His first book, The Cellini Masterpiece, has sold nearly 3,000 copies and received an Honorable Mention in the 2006 IPPY awards. It is now available in a Kindle edition from Amazon.com. An audio version (ISBN 9780615268125) is now available read by the renown actor, James Cada. MP3 edition, downloadable for IPOD, is 14.95. Order at www.raymondjohnbooks.com. His second mystery, Mix and Match Murder, which was originally scheduled for release in September of 2008 is now in print and available from Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com and North Star Press. A scholar born in the golden age of radio, Raymond always appreciates hearing a well-told story, especially one with action and believable dialogue in a historical setting. I have written and received many reviews. I have a thick skin, so if constructive criticism is forthcoming, bring it on. He has won several contests. The contest submission Mousie, Kittie and Booger was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. Gold In Them Thar Words was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. Lot 386 was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. He is a top ranked author and is currently holding the #22 position. Portfolio | Become A Fan Shh. The demon will be coming soon, and I don't want it to know I'm awake. I haven't slept for three nights, but I'm sure it will pay a visit tonight. And I'm ready for it. It will come on tiny silent feet. And it will make a barely noticeable bump when it jumps onto my bed. That's why none of its victims ever woke up. Except me, of course. I can hardly wait. It all started about six months ago, back around Halloween. The super thought it would be fun for us inmates to have a pet. I was "agin" the idea from the start, but I wasn't consulted. As far as I was concerned, Sunny Ridge provided too much company as it was. The attendants were busy enough with the other patients that they never seemed to make it over to me. The only time they did, they were pulling impacted shit out of my asshole. I never want to go through that again. Anyway, the super called us all together one night to introduce us to Petunia. She was supposed to be a calico cat he rescued from the needle at the local humane society. The owners had died within hours of each other--(why didn't I pick up on that at the time?)--and it was considered to be too old for adoption. The super, big-hearted man that he was, rescued her. How I wish he had arrived a day or two later. The demon walked around our circle with its tail in the air, shedding fur on our slippers and the hems of our robes. The damned thing acted like it owned the place, going from one to the next. When it got to me, it gave me a wide berth and hissed at me. I didn't like the creature, but I had no idea what it really was. It was as if the demon knew me. After it made its rounds, it headed directly for Jenny Rogers and jumped in her lap. Jenny grinned from ear to ear, which looked kind of funny because she wasn't wearing her false teeth. She hadn't been feeling particularly well for about a week. Her blood pressure was skipping around above one-hundred-and-seventy, and she wasn't eating the slop they call food. I call it slop because I'm always finding something in the soup. One morning, my breakfast was waffles drowned in maple sugar, and a big cup of hot chocolate. They know I'm diabetic. If I didn't know better, I would think my no-account nephew put them up to it. Tom thinks he's going to inherit my money. He has a surprise coming when they read my will. I'm giving everything to my VFW post. Enough of this. The important thing is that the demon spent the night on Jenny's bed. The strange thing is, the next day Jen was feeling better. Her blood pressure was down and she even ate her oatmeal for breakfast. I was amazed to see her sitting with Ethel and Vera watching As The World Turns. The demon disappeared during the day. I don't know where it went, and I wasn't particularly interested to find out. That night, after I had taken my shower, I passed Jen's room. There it was, big as life, lying at the foot of the bed washing itself. The next morning the attendant found Jen dead, and the demon nowhere to be found. We all liked Jen, and felt sorry about her passing. A few days later we had a memorial service. We sang Leaning on the Everlasting Arms. It was her favorite hymn, but I hated it because it was in Night of the Hunter. Robert Mitchum played an evil preacher, and sang a duet with Lillian Gish the night he came to kill innocent children. The movie scared me so much I had nightmares for a week after. A few days later, Harry Barnhart from Duluth moved into Jen's room. Wait. Shh, be quiet I think I hear something. No. Must be my imagination. I didn't like Petunia, but I didn't pay much attention to her. One night it started to follow ol' Ted Stone around. Ted was well into his nineties, but still pretty chipper. The attendants always wanted him to ride around in a wheelchair, or one of those mechanized go-carts, but he did just fine on his feet. Ted sat  beside me next morning. I hadn't seen very much of him and asked him what was new. In between mouthfuls of fried eggs, Ted told me, "Not much. The cat slept on my bed last night. She didn't purr or nothing when I petted her, but she kept my feet warm. She was gone when I woke up this morning." "She's welcome to sleep anywhere she wants, just so she stays away from me," I grumbled. "Why? Don't you like cats?" "It isn't that I don't like them. Maggie and I always had one. But this one doesn't like me. Something about it makes me nervous." Ted and I cut out black cats from construction paper for the Halloween decorations the rest of the morning. I was surprised they didn't give us a jar of paste, too. It was like being back in kindergarten again. I didn't see Ted that afternoon, and I went to bed after the news was done at 10:30. Ted's room is just two down from me, and I woke up in the middle of the night to a gurgling sound. I turned on the light and looked out into the hall. The demon cat came tearing out of Ted's room and scampered past me to the day room. I was worried about the old guy and turned on the light in his room. I really wished I hadn't. He was lying with his mouth wide open and his eyes bulging out of the sockets of his head. He looked as if he had been scared to death. I woke up the night attendant, and he called the rescue squad. It was too late for Ted, of course. He was dead as a doornail. The ET kind of shivered a bit when he saw him. He really looked relieved when he pulled the sheet over the old guy's face. Half of our wing was up watching when they wheeled our neighbor out. I was certain Petunia had something to do with Ted's death, even if I didn't know what. I told Micky Severson, the day attendant, about it the next day. Micky thought I was daft. One by one, the next few days I told everyone else about my suspicions. Harry Matthews was the only one who believed me. Everyone else laughed, or just shrugged and said it was a coincidence. The next coincidence happened just two weeks later. Louise Noble had been ailing with terminal colon cancer, and no one was too surprised when she passed on. No one but me, that is. Louise's daughter spent the last few days with her. After the memorial service was over, I waited around until Connie was alone. "I'm sorry about your mother. I hope you don't mind my asking what may sound like a strange question, but did a cat come to visit Louise?" "Yes. It slept on her bed the last two nights. Mom wasn't too pleased, and even shut the door to the room to keep it out, but it was there the next morning, anyway. The last night Mom was barely conscious, so I didn't even try to keep it away. I thought it was cute." I considered telling her my suspicions, but I didn't want to burden her any more than she already was. I also knew that if I told the wrong person, I could get a free pass to the rubber room. The next few days I reminded everyone of what I had told them. They just smiled now. No one laughed out loud, and I even won a couple of converts. Bill Swenson and Joey Ballinger decided they had better keep an eye out for her. I didn't know how the demon operated, but I now knew it had to spend two nights on its victim's bed. I passed the word to everyone that if Petunia showed up, to lock their doors the next few days. I wasn't sure if they had to keep them locked from then on. The staff wasn't very crazy about the idea of our keeping our doors locked.. This time my fellow prisoners didn't call it a coincidence. I wasn't even the one to ask the super to get rid of that accursed animal. Palmer was incredulous. "Why? She loves everyone and everyone loves her. I haven't run into a single person who said they didn't like it when she came to visit them." As Palmer spoke, his Adam's apple made his bowtie jump up and down. He's the only person I know who still owns a bow tie, let alone wears one. It was old-fashioned even when I was young. Palmer would have made a good pair with Ozzie Nelson. "So, then you won't mind if the cat stays in your townhouse, then?" I asked, half-taunting him. "Of course not. I'll make sure she doesn't leave my room at night." Things were pretty quiet for the next few weeks. No one saw Petunia, and no one died. Right about Christmas, the youngest spring chicken among us up and kicked the bucket. Sally Carlson was only 70 and had come to our humble abode as a stopover after her son sold her townhouse. She was hale and hearty, and a good sport. She made friends with all of us quickly. She didn't know about Petunia, and only casually mentioned to one of the other women that a cat had come into her room after she turned in for the night. Unfortunately I didn't hear about it until it was too late. The night following she died of an aneurism. At least that's what the doctor said. I knew better. Wait. Don't make a sound. Did you hear that? Something out in the hall. I've got a hunting knife with a ten-inch blade just waiting for her to return. Yes, return. You may wonder how I could have been so careless as to leave my door open. I didn't. Since Petunia arrived, I've always slept with my door closed, but one night, one of the LPNs came into the room to check my oxygen level. You probably wonder about the oxygen. Forty years with the Marlboro man didn't do my lungs any good. You probably can tell I wheeze a lot. At any rate, I was asleep. The ditz came into my room, hooked the clamp onto my finger, wrote down her reading, took the clamp back off and left. Neat as a whistle. I didn't even realize she had been there until next morning when I woke up to find my door open and cat hair on my bedspread. I was sure Petunia knew I was on to her and wanted me out of the way. The next day I rounded up the inmates who believed me, armed them with nail files, forks from the kitchen ... anything with a point ... and we went on a hunting expedition. Palmer said Petunia had been locked in his room all night, but we weren't buying it. We made him open his townhouse and went on a search. We looked under the beds. In the closets. Down in the basement. Petunia was nowhere to be found. Somehow, I wasn't surprised. If a demon didn't want to be seen, it wouldn't be seen. But I knew who she was after, and as I've said, I was ready. Jeez.  It's 3:30. I'm sure Petunia will show up soon. She'll just wait until she's sure I'm asleep. What would she do? Suck the life out of me? None of my fellows showed any signs of struggle. Did the demon frighten you to death? That's probably what happened to poor old Ted. How could I be sure I could even hurt it? If it really was a demon, even a hunting knife wouldn't stop it. I don't know. I just know I won't go down without a battle. There! Yes! I'm sure I heard something. What is it? My ears strain in the darkness. My grip tightens on the hunting knife. Whatever made the sound, it was coming closer. I can see a dark silhouette moving against the dim light beyond my open door. The demon is coming on tiny feet, tail raised straight up into the air. I can hear the sound clearly now. The damned thing is purring! The demon dares taunt me by announcing its presence? I hunker forward in the bed, watching for my enemy to jump. It comes as I hear a nearly silent thump. The demon is clearly visible as it stalks toward me. I draw back the knife to strike. Oh, NO! The worst pain I ever felt takes over my whole chest. It hurts so much I can barely breath. Petunia now stands at the foot of the bed. I can feel her eyes on me. The demon's front claws dig into the cloth of the bedspread. The pain is so great I can no longer bear it. I am so weak that I fall forward on my face. My heart beats, then stops, then starts again, but so much weaker. I am losing consciousness. The demon's purr gets louder as it comes closer. As my last breath leaks out in a sigh, the purr is deafening, and now I feel the demon's head rub against my face. Now... Recognized Share your own writing! - Information on our membership for writers. Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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