Short Story - The Thud

Short Story - The Thud

The thud came again.

Rose clicked the television on mute, straining her ear against the

storm that splattered the roof with a mixture of rain and hail.

The soft thump came from the basement, as though someone, or

something, had knocked a book to the floor. Rose gripped the arms of

the chair and cursed her husband for leaving her alone on a night like

this, knowing she was fearful of storms, empty houses and prowlers,

however imaginary they might be. She'd already lit every lamp and

overhead light in the house, but they failed to dispel the damp,

dreary feeling of impending doom.

Rose was a bit too over protective about things, she wouldn't stay

outside for more than 10 minutes, because of the dangerous sunrays.

Her husband Jimmy had nagged her about getting a dog to keep her

company on the nights he worked late, but she wouldn't have anything

to do with a dog. What if the dog got rabies and went mad while she

was alone with him? Her small delicate frame would be no match for a

snarling animal who would shred her to pieces with its gnashing teeth.

The television screen flickered in muted silence as it ran the news

story again, warning the public about the man with the knife. He'd

been fooling the police for weeks, leaving behind no clues or

reasoning to his appetite for slaughtering woman who were home alone.

But Rose knew where the man was. He was in her basement skulking

around in the dark with the butcher knife between his teeth.

She reached for the phone, preparing to summon the police again, but

shuddered at the arrogance during their previous visit less than an

hour ago. While searching ...

... middle of paper ...

... The creature with the bright eyes stood at

opening, it stared at.

Rose halted and squinted at the creature, its tail wagging side to

side.

"You're are cat!" she shouted, her veins pounding with blood. She

tossed the carving knife to the floor. It's just a stupid little cat.

Her laughter eased her frightful state, soothing her petrified nerves.

The short-hared cat licked its paws. "Just a cat," Rose whispered

again as kneeled by its side and stroked its fur with her trembling

hand. "Where did you come from, You scared me half to death." Arching

its back it rubbed against Rose's thigh. "You must be hungry? How

about a bowl of milk?" She rose to her feet and opened the fridge

door.

"Just a cat indeed," the man whispered from the shadows of the cellar.

Candlelight glinted off the butcher knife in his fist.