Blackness Eternal

Blackness Eternal


By  Guy Dickie


        Many nights I had followed my master through the streets and back alleys to the house of music, smoke, and loud men. I would loiter outside for hours, stalking night creatures and waiting for the songs inside to subside. The men, of the house would then pour into the streets and set off in all directions. I would follow my master home. His confidant swagger from earlier replaced with an unusual gait and the sparkle in his eyes now glowing red fire. This was a nightly ritual until the evening that my left eye was lost.
      My master was abnormally boisterous when he left the house of music, smoke, and loud men that wicked night. Ordinarily a kind man, but that place could bring the devil out of him. Knowing this, I usually kept my distance on the way home. That night was different; he had difficulty keeping his feet under him and fell to the street more than once. He knelt on all fours and retched whatever it was he had eaten for dinner out onto the street. I ventured closer, curious of his behavior. He lashed out striking me with his foot and darkening my eye. That was the final expedition to the house of music, smoke and loud men that I made with him.
      My new routine was to wait at home with my master’s wife until he returned. I would sense her dread and comforted her with soft brushes against her legs or curl into her lap if she permitted. My last night in that beautiful house would be like so many others. Late into the night my master’s wife and I paced about the house steeped in worry until a familiar voice was heard.
          “Let me in Damnable wife!” He roared from outside the door.
      She unbolted the door and he fell into the foyer. He clambered to his feet and launched into a tirade towards her. They hollered bitterly at one another until she relented and retired to their upstairs bedroom and he to the study. I followed him into the den and jumped upon the chesterfield to watch him. He sat at his desk, turned his lamp up high, picked up a hardback and began to read. He soon fell to sleep sitting in his chair, his feet upon his desk and the book to his chest. As he stirred to reposition himself his foot knocked the lamp to the floor.
        Flames immediately soared as high as a man and spread out along the flooring. The luxurious full-length curtains that covered the den’s large window erupted into flame as if they were soaked in kerosene; next the crammed bookcase was ablaze. I ran about the room in panic, leapt to my master’s lap trying to rouse him but he did not make a move. The heat was becoming unbearable and the thick smoke made it near impossible to see or breath. I’m sure I was near death when the large window exploded. I could hear yells from the people outside on the street. I made a dash for the window; through the flames I jumped, out and down to the sidewalk below landing on some broken glass and cutting my back foot.
      Safely on the opposite curb, I watched as my master’s house was swallowed totally by the flames. I remember hoping that somehow they were able to escape the firestorm. The three of us could then find a new place to live, maybe someplace not so close to the house of music, smoke, and loud men.
      The next weeks were spent wandering the city streets searching for my master and his wife. Feeding on the wastes of people and sleeping where a dry spot could be found. These were the loneliest days of my life.
      One rainy evening as I was looking for someplace to spend the night my wandering led me into an abandoned home; there I found a ragged old woman living. The crone coaxed me over to her with a meager tidbit of food. I took the food, ate it and curled up alongside her. I looked up at her and noticed that she too had an empty socket where once an eye had been. She talked to me in a voice so bewitching and haunting yet soothing that eventually I was fast asleep, the last of her words I heard were;
          “ Sleep well tonight my friend, for tomorrow you must leave.”
          “ I do not have the means to care for you, you must set out and find a home with loving masters.”
      The next morning I found myself alone on an old moth eaten blanket, the woman nowhere to be found. How could she have made movement without waking me? Usually I slept light, waking to any sound or slightest jostle, but that night I slept undisturbed.
      That evening I decided what I needed to do; I had little choice but to return to the house of music, smoke, and loud men. If my master were still alive he would surely turn up there. I arrived outside the door of the place, the sounds all too familiar, and the flames of the eyes more prominent than I remembered.
    I waited near the door until someone opened it to leave then made a move inside. The room was large, from what I could see, and full to near capacity. It was very loud with music and talk; the entire room had a haze about it as most men smoked fat cigars. I needed to find a better vantage point to see all the faces in the place. An empty stool was my first perch, but still I couldn’t see. Up on the bar I jumped then to the top of a wooden cask that sat on the bar. From here my head was higher than all the men in the house and I could make out faces clear across the room.
    I looked at every face but recognized none. He was not there nor was his wife. The fear of spending the rest of my time wandering the streets of the city made breathing difficult; I found it hard to swallow as the sense of dismay overcame me. Just then I noticed a man sitting at a near by table looking at me. A look of recognition on his face as he rose from his chair and ambled over to me, a strange sway to his step that reminded me of my master’s walk home. He reached up and ever so gently ran his palm down the full length of my body from head to tail.
        “Oh, how nice that felt” I thought
    I jumped down from the keg onto the bar and began to rub against this kind stranger. He again patted me, and again, and again.
          “Purr” “Purr”
      He called out to the man that stood behind the bar.
          “McCready, who does this cat belong to?”
      The man behind the bar looked at me and shook his head.
          “Well, I’ll tell you it’s not mine. I don’t know who it belongs too but it had better get out of here before I get my broom and sweep it out.” He said.
      The kind man picked me up and held me to his chest, oh how long had it been since I was held like that?
          “ Purr” “Purr”
          “Well, if no one is claiming him then he’ll go home with me.” My new master exclaimed.
    Out into the cool fresh night air we went. My new master placed me gently on the ground and started walking for home and I followed along. We walked, and every now and then he would stop to reach down and give me a pat. We arrived outside a modest apartment building and he looked down at me.
            “This will be your new home my friend” he said.
      My master’s wife was a very kind hearted woman; she never let me pass without a loving rub and scratch. This new home, I believed, would be just fine. With loving masters, a warm bed each night, and ample food, a cat would surely grow stout living this life.
      No sooner was I becoming at ease; that my master seemed to grow weary of my presence. No more would he lift me to his lap and cover me in tender caresses, feed me sardines strait from the jar, or play with a ball of yarn with me. I do not know what it was that made him so disillusioned with me but that made me strive even harder to garner his favor. I would follow him through the house rubbing against his legs only to be pushed aside by his foot. I would climb onto his bed at night to stand guard for him, yet I still sensed his growing hatred for me. If it had not been for master’s wife I’m sure he would have thrown me to the streets or worse.
      One evening my master opened the door to the cellar and began down the stairs.
          “He must be going down to rid the basement of the mice I hear scurrying about,” I thought. “Now is my chance to show him my worth, I will help him hunt the mice and show him how useful I can be.  He’ll then love me again.”
    I quickly ran down the stairs, between his legs and into the basement. He stumbled on the last few stairs and almost fell to the floor. I looked up at him and saw deep hatred in his eyes, burning a hole through to my soul. He flew into a rage; roaring loudly, he snatched me up by the neck and held me fast to a large block of wood. He pulled free the blade that was embedded in the block and raised it overhead preparing to bring it down into my skull.
          “What are you doing? You leave that cat be!” master’s wife screamed.
    She was down the stairs in a blink and arrived in time to stay his hand with her own. Surprised by his wife’s action, my master released me and turned on her. He brought his blade up high and swung it down fiercely onto his wife’s head. She fell immediately to the floor without a sound, her eyes wide and lifeless. Blood shot from her wound in geyser bursts. Without a doubt she was dead.
    I ran and hid from view amongst the clutter of the basement. My master had butchery in his eyes and I feared that if he found me I would definitely be murdered. What happened next seemed so strange at the time that I hardly believed what I was watching. My master started hitting the wall with his weapon, and then used his bare hand to tear away at the brick. Soon a hole appeared in the wall; he continued tearing and the hole became larger and larger. From my vantage point, behind piles of boxes and bags, the wall seemed to have a void behind it.
    When my master was satisfied that the hole was large enough he tossed his murder weapon inside then lifted up his wife’s body and began feeding it feet first into the cavity. He then started a search of the basement.
        “He must be looking for me!”  My mind shrieked.
  His search was bringing him closer to my hiding spot, my muscles tensed and I was ready to bolt. As luck would have it, he veered to the left and was now facing away from me. I had to make a move; I sprang from cover and began a life or death race for the stairs. When I reached the bottom stair I saw the door was closed. My master was now turning back in my direction, Instinct took over and I ran and leapt through the hole in the wall landing squarely in the lady’s lap. I quickly scampered to the far dark corner of this place and made no sound. I would have to wait for him to go upstairs and open the door, so there I waited.
    Opportunity for escape did not again present itself; He began replacing the stones of the wall. Absolute fear froze me to the back wall of this chamber and I dared not move for fear of detection. When the last stone was replaced it was as if my remaining eye was taken from me. This place was now so frighteningly dark. Usually at night or in a darkened room my eye would compensate for the lack of light. It would adjust, giving me vision as if it were the height of the day. Not a sliver of moonlight or a distant glow anywhere, this darkness was complete.
    Hours passed before I was able to move, A few tentative steps at first just to get my bearings. The place was very small and made smaller by the body of master’s wife that took up half of the floor space. She was in a sitting position with her back against the wall closest to where the hole used to be.
A very strong odor of blood filled the crypt and I could hear a very faint trickle of water coming from somewhere behind her. The walls were rough stone as was the floor. I had hoped that maybe I could climb up and out of here, but digging down and under would be impossible.
      I do not remember how many attempts I made at climbing the wall, finally giving up after loosing the last of my claws to the rough stone. I was now totally exhausted and in need of food and water. I rooted around the floor and found the source of the trickling sound. A small puddle of water had pool on the floor behind the lady and I managed to worm my way in behind her to drink. As for my hunger I would have to wait for a mouse or a bat to happen by. I crawled back to the far corner to lick my wounded paws and wait for prey.  I soon fell fast asleep. I woke with no sense of how long I had been there but my thirst was back and my hunger was strong. The smell of blood was still present but slightly different, as if mixed with the smell of spoiling meat.
    As if my situation was not uncomfortable enough this place was now becoming very warm. The sun must be out and shining on the other side of the bricks carrying the heat down here. Oh how hot it became, I needed water again and made my way back to the small puddle but it was dried up. I would not live long if I didn’t drink soon. I found a pool of gore on the floor next to her leg and drank from it. The rancid blood was horrible but I had no other option if I was to survive.
    Time passed without noticing me as if I didn’t exist, day to night, night to day. There was no way to tell how long I was there other than the heating and cooling of the bricks. Hunger and thirst started to take a strangle hold, and began leading me to madness. The pool of blood on the floor now dried my thirst forced me to climb upon my master’s wife. I made my way to her head and found the wound caused by his blade. The smell was unspeakable, reminding me of the butcher’s waste bin. My time living on the waste of humans steeled me to the thought of eating spoiled meat.                                                            I reached into the wound and fed on the soft wet tissue inside.
    As I sat on her shoulder pawing at the wound I heard a thud from the wall where the hole used to be, then again, and again.
Had my master figured out where I was? And now he was coming to finish me.  I didn’t care; anything would be better than spending eternity in this box.  I let out a scream, then another louder than the first, and a third so loud that it surprised me. A sound I had no idea that I could make. A few minutes of silence ensued then the noise started again, this time more rapidly. A small hole appeared in the wall and I could hear many voices. The hole grew larger, then a hand reached in and began pulling at the stones. The wall gave and collapsed to the floor allowing bright light to enter the chamber. The light was so bright it blinded me; I could make out shapes moving in front of me so I hissed and growled at the apparitions. I heard my master cry out from across the room, and then the sounds of a struggle. There were sounds of voices from all directions, this confused and frightened me. I leapt from my master’s wife out into the light.
      I could see nothing, but still I ran as if my life depended on it. I would not stop until I smelt fresh air. A blanket was thrown over top of me and I was scooped up into someone’s arms and held firm. I struggled to free myself from the grip, biting at the arm holding me. My captor did not relax his grip; finally I surrendered my struggle and lay under the blanket motionless. My eye began to adjust to the light under the blanket; I managed to find an opening and squeezed my head out. There were strange men standing about the room, some looking in at the master’s wife, others looking at me, while two had my master laying face down in the dirt binding his arms behind his back.
          “Pluto you demon, you’ve killed me!” Cried my master.
          “You black Devil!” he yelled.
          “ Quiet sir before I command a gag be used. Now take him away, and get someone down here with a stretcher for the lady.” An older man standing on the bottom stair ordered.
          “Yes sir, right away sir.” Said the man that was holding me.
  We climbed the stairs and through the door into the hallway where more men were gathered.
        “Can someone fetch a gurney and blanket to bring up the body?” He asked.
    A couple young men gave a nod and moved outside, returning moments later with a stretcher and descended down into the basement. My captor then took me outside. How beautiful the sunlight looked and the air smelt, at last I was free. He walked toward a group of men congregated in the street.
          “Hey Smithson, are you going to join us at McCready’s later for a celebratory pint?” asked one of the men.
          “I am,” said the man holding me “you ever known me to pass up a reason for a pint?” “I would celebrate the opening of a new keg for Christ sake.”
      The older man from the basement appeared at the door of the apartment.
            “Good work men, we’ve got the monster and his confession.” He announced.
            “Excuse me sir, do you s’pose I could take the cat home with me?” The man holding me asked.
              “I can’t see why not, there are no next of kin and I don’t think anyone would object.” The old man answered, “ I can’t imagine why you would want it though, ragged, torn, covered in blood, just the sight of it brings me chills.”
            “ Well sir since the disappearance of my own wife not three weeks ago, I could use the companionship around the house.” My new master explained.
            “Of course constable, we are all praying for the safe return of your dear Lacy.” “In the mean time I hope the cat will bring you some peace.” The older man said awkwardly. “What will you name it?”
            “Well I heard the murderer call him Pluto, that’s as good a name as any I guess.” My new master answered.
      A crowd of civilians had gathered on the street, straining their necks to hopefully get a better view when the body was brought out. Among the crowd I noticed a familiar face, not watching the apartment like the others but looking directly at me and smiling. It was the one eyed face of the old woman from the abandoned building.


                                                                          The End