Scream Well, Dawn Approaches

Walking steadily almost unabashed by the raging storm, hissing catches Roger’s attention and before him, dark and sinister as sin, stands a black cat. An apparition perhaps, he wonders into the raging night as he tries to quickly move past all the puddles before him.

Trying to evade the cat he went full circle around his block until he was greeted by the dull walls of his house. Somehow, his house seemed to frown, with the windows rattling with each step he took as if warning him. From a frown to a pure venomous scolding. His house couldn’t possibly hate him, right? He dared to ask the night. Resting himself, he told himself that it wasn’t possible for it to hate him, it wasn’t alive.

Although he had to reaffirm himself when the house bellowed with his entrance. Blaming the wind he tried to close the door using his sickly muscles. Almost falling on his behind, he sees the black cat across the house sitting almost regally on top of the bin. Golden irises that shone so profoundly, gold dripping from their very being, peered and watched the door shut, as if the house would never open its eye again.

The eyes on the paintings seemed to avoid his gaze for whatever reason, he did not know or rather he didn’t know how they knew. While staring at the paintings of his ancestry, he couldn’t help but notice the walls. They had a vibrant fading colour with a rotting under belly of wood that permitted all kinds of critters. Even they, usually confident, seemed to shy away from his presence. Ignoring the contempt, he set of towards the kitchen to make a light meal before bed. While on his way to the kitchen, he set aside his umbrella and boots. He then militantly headed to the kitchen, avoiding as many windows as he could. Although, he was devastatingly hungry he was no A-grade chef so he made due with what he had. Essentials such as onions he could always deal with, no matter the hour. So, he set off and began chopping them together with potatoes in intricate shapes with all sort of details, like adding spice into the pot.

Watching the pot simmer, he couldn’t help but think when would the rain end. Unfazed by his thoughts, the rain continued to pour like a mother mourning the loss of her child. In fact, it seemed to crescendo even further to the point where the roof creaked as if it was being smashed by the hands of an angry toddler.

Deciding that it was late enough for him to go to bed, he did his nightly rounds around the house, well most of it. Since, it continued to mercilessly pour despite his pleas, rainwater started to collect on top of the roof. Normally this wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing but his house was old, so old it quadrupled his age. Water started to seep into old wounds while causing new wounds, simultaneously some of the wounds were clogged by festering bacteria. To deal with the rest of the wounds he placed buckets in the regions most affected. If he didn’t place buckets, pools of water would form ruining his already delicate floor.

He then walked up the stairs and accidentally peered outside the window and was caught in a flash of lightening. He could still hear the lightening rumble with legs of thunder in the distance. In the receding brilliance, the cat still sat on the same bin and simply stared back at him as if it could still see him. Deeply unnerved Roger rushed into bed and forced himself into sleep.

Wallinghigh held many mysteries. Especially during the late hours no one was willing to explore. Instead of normal basements they had crypts. So, when Roger heard guttural sounds underneath his house he knew enough to mind his own business. However, sleep seemed to be evading him and he desperately needed a break from his reality. Luckily, he remembered that he had pain tablets that would make him truly fall sleep. So, he got up from his bed and moved towards his cabinet to get the pills. He always had a glass of water next to his bed so he really didn’t need to go down stairs. Before he could consume anything curiosity got the better of him so he looked outside the window. Unfortunately, the cat still remained peering seeming to weigh the scales.

“Uggh,”Roger grunted in frustration. His movements seemed to be more rapid as he paced around his room and while consuming more than enough pills. Jumping at shadows, he didn’t dare to turn off the lights. Instead he moved his cabinet to cover the window. He didn’t want to see the cat’s shattering gaze anymore. Finally, tiring himself out, he slept on the bed and he let the pills take him to a place his mind couldn’t find him.

The morning wasn’t any better, it was worse. Yes, it still rained but the wind was an octave higher. The walk to his workplace was beyond humbling.

Finally reaching the compounds, he decided he needed to talk to his employer before he got working. He wanted and did ask to change the cab he drove and its routes. His employer agreed but was shocked because Roger used the same cab and route for almost a decade now. When asked why he stammered and claimed he needed change in his life. That was true from a certain perspective, a perspective Roger allowed his employer to only see, so the man had no other choice but to agree.

While he was driving around the town he got into an old route, trying to see if it was still there. The route moved through the least maintained region in the area. There was a whole plot of land that wasn’t constructed on and somewhere was a patch that was irregular and missed a whole patch of grass. It was still there he decided. In fear of being discovered, he rushed past the area to the point it seemed to be a distant memory.

Ending his shift he decided he needed to visit the convenience store. On his way there, he saw a group of people searching for a missing person. Trying to rush past them as quickly as he could, he stumbled into the victim's mother. She turned towards him and her sorrow seemed to silence the rain. It came in waves and was so pungent he could taste it in the very air. She grabbed his wrists and held him tightly and asked: “Have you seen my daughter? Have you seen my daughter?!”

He tried to answer and get away from the woman but she didn’t seem to be listening. The rest of her family tried to rest her away. Looking apologetically as they moved away from him half dragging the woman and the other half comforting. She seemed to sob harder and shrieked: “Tell her we love her, I love her. Her toddler needs her...” she said as she faded into the rest of the buildings. For a moment, he was afraid that she knew.

He was in desperate need of liquor. He tried to walk towards the store but he couldn't make it. His head was spinning and he seemed to be running out of breath. Stumbling into the alleyway he once again saw the cat, the cat was there. His resolve instantly broke and he vomited on the floor in disgust of what he did. This couldn’t possibly be the same cat that he saw outside his house he thought to the coming night. He refused to believe it, no, he wouldn’t believe it. With one last effort, he heaved all the remaining contents in his stomach. He then picked himself up and rushed to the liquor store before it closed.

Everything seemed to fade into black and his worries seemed to recede into depths he couldn’t explore under the influence. Somehow, he found himself in the same poorly maintained neighbourhood. The rain seemed to be completely out of control. It was a raging beast, tearing trees from their roots and baptising anything in its path. The old construction vehicles in the plot of land, groaned, as their axles were slowly being lubricated by the rain as their rust was vigorously washed away.

He found himself kneeling and begging for forgiveness on the patch. He cried so much his mucous was indistinguishable from his tears at some point.

Again, the cat was there peering beyond but into Roger. Roger tried to stand up to reach the cat but because of the disturbance in the ground and the continuous pounding of the rain, all sunk below him. He tried to get out of the sinkhole but it was too slippery. He held onto the root that seemed to sprout from the very ground. The earth was savagely consuming his body. Mud was everywhere and he could taste blood, bile and earth in his throat. He couldn’t move his lower body and his deltoids cringed in protest under the strain of holding him. He couldn’t get out. His only hope was that dawn was approaching and someone would find him.

Strength, fuelled by adrenaline and his pure will to survive, helped him hold onto the root. Foreshadowing his form were rugged claws of a construction vehicle that held powdered cement. Of course, it wasn’t so anymore because of the rain. The jaws were groaning and pressured under the strain of the rain.

Falling, almost seeming to stop in mid-air, the first droplet splashed precisely on Roger’s face. Seized by panick, he tried to claw his way out, losing even his nails in the process. Bruised and painfully bashed by fate, he continued to claw his way out with his bleeding fingertips. The sand cut deep further into his fingertips and every waking moment he tried to claw his way out, the sinkhole felt like true hell.

The body below him seemed to hold him, in the muddy inescapable depression. He screamed into the chilling morning but no one heard him and with a final groan the cement came for him and buried him like he tried to bury his sins. The earth seemed to sigh and the rain's relentless pursuit, immediately stopped.

The black cat turned away from the scene and walked away with the ’it is done' type of attitude. Legend has it that screams can be heard in the waking morning of Wallinghigh but everyone knows that everyone minds their own business in Wallinghigh.