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FrostedFlake -> RE: Ghosts, spirits....whatever you want to call them (2/15/2012 11:07:08 PM)
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Where the cat died the third time.
In '91, I was having a hard time. And it being Seattle, the rain was really hanging on. When it is wet and under forty, the word miserable attains currency. After about a week of that crap, I was getting real tired. So I called my little Brother. He said, "Come on over." A few hours later, I took my sleeping bag to his basement, where he kept a spare bed set up in case of an overnight guest. I noted there was also a round matress, leaned against a wall. I had never slept on a round bed before. I wondererd if it would be different somethow. So I dragged it out and set it up.
Some minutes later I was lying there, wondering which way was up, when on the ceiling there apeared a mote of black, ...light. In about the time it takes to wonder, "What the hell's That?", this tiny dot grew to cover my entire visual field.
My next recollection is struggling to a sitting position while breathing in for what seemed like an incredible long time, and then gasping, choking and addressing a massive oxygen deficit for what seemed an incredible long time. Once I began to feel 'normal' again, I stepped into my trousers and went upstairs to tell my brother about my 'wierd dream'. I expected my brother to say, "Wow, that's really wierd!". But instead he said he was sorry and that he should have told me. And then he told me.
The third week previous, My brother had found his cat in the closet of his room, on the second floor. Dead as a doornail. He picked the cat up, to carry it outside, to bury it. As soon as he did, the dead cat suddenly drew in a huge lungful, blinked each eye independantly several times, and then let go with an "indictment of damnation with a promise of vengance". A promise immediatly fulfilled. Cats have claws. Once around Kevin and twice around the room, out the window, down the cedar tree, across the neighbors yard with the viscious dog in it, through (under?) the chain link dog fence, into the bushes and gone. For days. The dog had watched her go. Then turned to look up at Kevin, bleeding slightly, head out the window. The dog got up, went around to the far side of the doghouse, and hid.
The second week previous the same thing happened again, excepting in the dining room, on the first floor. Kevin, having seen some wierd shit in his time, was not completely in the dark about this shit being wierd. When it happened a third time, in the basement, directly beneath the two previous attempts, Kevin called a house meeting, on the spot. There was a lot of yelling and some very pointed questions. In the end, Steve, the largest child I have yet met, fessed up. Rolling back the carpet, he exposed a chalk drawing on the cement floor. And produced a paperback copy of "The Necronomicon". Steve 'explained' (as if!) that he was 'just playing'. And didn't really mean to summon a demon. At least didn't expect to. And had no idea what to do about it now that he had. So he thought that maybe if he just played stupid, ...which is something he was good at.
Kevin and I chatted about things for a while, and in the end I decided to go back to the basement to get some much needed sleep, in the other bed, after telling 'Bozo' to keep his hands to himself. Now, if Kevin had told me then that the cat was really quite very dead the third time, I might have come to a different decision.
As for, whatever did they do about all this?
Everybody moved. Kevin went his own way, figuring you can't fix stupid.
And I don't know WHAT you do about a demon in the basement, that can put the 'come hither' on folks.
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