November 22, 2006

The Promise in the Cellar (9 of 12)

Thread: Mission

Mizzy ran across the road and a white Transit van blared its horn at her, screeching to a halt just a couple of feet away. She waved her hands, mouthed sorry and continued across with speed. The driver waved back obscene gestures and mouthed an alternative response. When she reached the other side of the road, the cat was gone.

Red, misshapen paw prints led into a dilapidated house beside her; the cat had dived through a small broken window in the basement.

Mizzy heard the van take off behind her, but the driver shouted a few more insults to indicate that she was in the wrong for taking her life and putting it in his driving hands. She stepped back to get a good view of the house.

No one lived here anymore. It was an old three-storey house, probably about a hundred years old, although to be fair Mizzy was just guessing. Although it looked old, it was rather bland, painted in a single colour – white – from top to bottom, save for the fuchsia front door. Paint peeling from the window frames revealed rotting, sodden wood beneath. The roof was missing a few slates and a bird nest or two was likely to be found sheltering there. Wooden planks barricaded the front door, forcing intruders to attack the windows, each of them smashed and penetrated at one time or another in a sort of property gang rape, every accessible entrance defiled and spoiled. A rusty gate sitting at the edge of some miserable-looking railings pretended to be the first line of defence; beyond lay two sets of slate steps, one that ascended forwards to the front door, the other descending to the left.

Mizzy kicked the gate and it wobbled and screeched, shedding rust like brown dandruff as it swung open. The cat was her priority not a graceful break-and-enter. She rushed down the slate steps towards the basement door. She hesitated by a small, smashed porthole-type window that the cat had escaped into, but could only make out a dim, stone floor inside. Little sunlight survived down to the basement level on this cloudy day.

Turning to the basement door, Mizzy wondered how she was going to open it, but was then both relieved and concerned to notice it was ajar. The lock had been busted open. In recent times or days long gone, she had no idea. She just hoped there was no one inside. Then again, maybe she was being told to enter because there was someone inside. Someone she was meant to meet, that would clarify her whole sorry mess of a life. Whatever – time to trust in the vision. There was purpose to be found here, she knew it.

The door creaked as she pushed it open and the stench of cat urine barrelled into her. Oh my God, she thought, I am going to gag. It was going to be difficult to find purpose in cat urine.

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 2231

2 Responses to “The Promise in the Cellar (9 of 12)”

  1. Jennifer x2 wrote on 8-Dec-2006 @ 2319:

    The last sentence… very funny. From a cat lover. That was very funny. 🙂


  2. Jennifer x2 wrote on 8-Dec-2006 @ 2319:

    The last sentence… very funny. From a cat lover. That was very funny. 🙂


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