Hello followers and readers! We have reached the end of July, That means it must be time for another Creepy Samples Offering, and I'm pleased to present it to you.
Today's piece comes from a story entitled "Curse of the Cat Graveyard. There is little need for an explanation this time around as this sampling unfolds at the beginning of the story and continues until I leave off. So, enjoy!
A hearty flame burned in the fireplace, taking the chill out of the room even as newly fallen leaves
swirled in the autumn breeze outside the cottage. The old witch lovingly pet the large black cat that rested
on her lap. The woman sighed as she gazed upon the gray patches of fur that lined the face of her familiar.
“Well, Sabrina,” she began, “we've come a long way together, you and me. Why, I can still remember
the day you were born. You came into the world black as the night; even though that wasn't the case with
your mama or your brothers and sisters.”
Sabrina purred as the witch continued her ministrations, soothing her aching body.
“Yep,” she continued, “I knew you were special before you even opened your eyes--that you had
power. I knew we were destined to be together—to work together. That was 'bout 23 years ago, and I've
never regretted a minute of it; not a second. But look at you now. You're hurtin', little girl. I know you're
puttin' on a brave face, but I know you're suffering. You ain't been eatin' no more, not hardly drinkin'
neither. I reckon we've come to that time we'd hoped would never arrive.”
Sabrina lifted her weary head and gazed into the old woman's eyes. Even as she lay on her deathbed,
her emerald-green eyes gazed into the witch's dark soul.
Oh yes, those eyes! the woman thought to herself. Even now as you lie on death's door they speak of
your power.
“Well, I s'pose we might as well get on with it,” she said aloud as she gently placed her nearly helpless
companion on the comfortable foot cushion situated directly in front of her. “I'd best go make the
preparation. Don't worry, darlin'. It'll be pleasurable.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she went to mix the
potion.
“It'll be mixed in with a treat you always wanted but didn't get much of; some real tasty,
unpasteurized milk. It'll send you straight to kitty paradise.”
Sabrina knew instinctively that she was living her last moments. Her perceptions had always been
impeccable. That's why Fiona had always enjoyed working magically with her. They'd made a great team.
A few minutes later Fiona returned from the kitchen, carrying a small bowl of what appeared to be
plain milk and a syringe. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “This here will put you to sleep gently, my dear.
You know your mama would never do nothin' t' hurt ya.”
Fiona moaned as she sat back down; her creaking, aching bones a reminder of her own mortality. “Oh
my!” she exclaimed while attempting to make herself more comfortable, “I'm afraid I ain't gonna be far
behind ya, Sabrina. Nope, not very far at all.”
She held the bowl in front of her familiar, but Sabrina, too weak to do what it takes to drink out of one,
only touched the liquid with the tip of her tongue without consuming anything.
“I was afraid of that,” the old witch announced. “I guess we'll have to go to plan B. Come here, baby.”
The cat only looked at her imploringly. Fiona, moving slowly, learned forward and lifted her from the
cushion, placing her once again in her lap. No longer able to hold in her tears, the old woman sobbed
openly as she drew the white liquid from the bowl; and, without hesitation, lifted her pet's head slightly as
she put the plastic tube into Sabrina's mouth. She took a deep breath, and then deposited the potion deep
enough into her familiar's mouth so that it would find its way into the digestive tract.
“Mama loves ya,” she declared as she gently stroked the cat's head and body. Within a minute or two,
Sabrina laid her head down upon Fiona's thigh, and closed her eyes. Then, she was gone.
The old woman placed the body of her departed friend in a straw basket and placed it temporarily on
the foot cushion, thereby giving Sabrina's spirit time to adjust to the loss of its earthly vehicle before
bringing it out back for burial.
The brisk wind of earlier in the day had subsided into a gentle breeze when Fiona brought her
familiar's remains outside. Dusk had almost deepened into night by the time she had finished the burial
with the placing of a marking stone. Her doleful task completed, she tossed the shovel aside and allowed
her gaze to move toward the wooden sign she had hung up between two trees some years ago when she
had been more agile. She took note that the lettering, which denoted the small cemetery, was still quite
readable.
A nagging thought sprang up from deep down inside her. It was one that had been vexing her for some
time now. All the noise, all that development's taking place 'round here. Some days I can hear it as it
moves ever closer to me. Damn them! I cannot allow them or anyone to disturb this burial place—where
my best friends should be able to rest in peace. There's been too much magick done here to be replaced by
the noise and distractions of know-nothings.
She closed her eyes and remained still for a moment before uttering the words; “Cursed be any and all
who disturb this hallowed ground, for the spirits of those who rest here will awaken and exact their
revenge upon thee. So mote it be!”
A gust of wind came up after she spoke the words, once again swirling the fallen leaves as if in
acknowledgment of the woman's intent. Then, she walked slowly toward the warmth of her hoary home.
Some years later, a car pulled to the side of the road across from the house in which the old woman
had once lived. The driver, a man appearing to be in his early forties, gazed at the grizzly structure, which
was now surrounded by a chain-link fence. His mind flooded with childhood memories. Oh how I
remember this place. I was so afraid of it. We kids believed that an old witch lived in it, but it was likely
just an eccentric old woman.
As the man sat staring, he relived the child-like emotions he'd felt whenever he'd drawn close to the
structure during his days as a youngster—fear, dread, foreboding, but now those feelings, long abated, had
morphed into the comfortable realm of fond memories.
Hmm, he mused, what does that sign hanging by the gate say?
He exited his vehicle, waited for an approaching car to pass, then walked hastily toward the entrance to
the property. The sign, as well as the fencing, were untarnished—new. The man already had a good idea
what it would say, but he read it anyway.
Coming soon, apartments by Mason & Company
Making your dreams come true.
Sure enough, they're going to build here. It looks like I've come back to Fiskville just in time to see
what I'd left behind so long ago. He stared at the old structure and the surrounding landscape. There was
something enchanting about it all. An old house fallen in disrepair, underbrush having taken over the
surroundings, and those old trees in the back. I can only see part of them from here, but they seem twisted;
almost spooky.
Charles Krupta, for that was his name, could feel it; a building curiosity, and one almost as old as he
was. The child he had once been just had to explore that captivating building and its surroundings. He
would be hitting the road again the next day, and knew that he'd never have another chance to do so. He
looked up and down the street for passers by. There were none. He made his move, quickly shuffling
through the unlocked gate before walking toward the rear of the property.
A thick underbrush created cover for him as he took in his surroundings. The old house was in serious
decay—decrepit in his estimation, and likely not safe to explore on the inside. The trees, which still
towered over the rest of the vegetation, were indeed twisted, and long-ago dead. Their limbs, twisted into
creepy contortions and devoid of leaves or branches, eerily complemented the agrestic old house. All he
could think of were skeletons. Yes, skeletons long dead, with misshapen arms reaching toward all those
who would listen.
Then, he noticed it—a barely readable sign suspended between two trees; its lettering faded from years
of exposure to the weather. It took a moment or two before he could make sense of what it said, but once
he was able to discern what had once been painted upon its surface, his sense of intrigue only increased. It
said Cat Graveyard. In smaller letters underneath the wording continued: Do Not Disturb! Fiona
Charles gazed below and beyond to ascertain if there remained any clearly marked graves. “So, the old
woman was a cat lady,” he muttered to himself. “At least I know that much.”
He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for as he continued to explore until his foot hit something
hard, almost tripping him. Pushing the underbrush aside he noticed a sizable stone; then another a few feet
away and another. An extensive burial ground took shape before his very eyes; stones almost hidden from
view, each holding the long-gone remains of the eccentric old woman's feline friends. He was beyond
intrigued with his discovery, and the child that still lived inside him wanted more; much more.
Old memories still swirled in his mind as he turned toward his vehicle. Sometimes I wonder if she
really was a witch. It sure seemed it to me at the time, and this place sure is creepy enough.
“Ah, don't be silly,” he mumbled quietly to himself, dismissing his previous thoughts.
The man started the engine, threw the transmission into drive, and cast one last glance at the old
structure before pulling into the middle of the road. Hmm... I wonder.
Well, there you have it. That's all for this week's offering. Of course, the rest of the story can be found within my latest book, "Gruesome Encounters: A Collection of Nightmarish Fables." A link to my website is provided on this page for those who are interested.
The next Creepy Samples Offering will appear around the middle of August. So, thanks for being here, and until then, remember to keep it spooky.
