The Reverend and Gloria.
Stay.
"These are my children…my babies.”
The Rev’s words echoed through my mind as I stared at the emaciated dead cats, floating there silently in their formaldehyde jars. I didn’t even know what to say.
“You’re one sick bastard,” I managed to mutter after a few more moments of silence.
“Of course I am, my dear,” he cackled. He turned and looked me in the eyes. “When I said I lost my mind about a year ago, did you think I was joking?”
I
t was obvious that that had been a rhetorical question so I shrugged. Wasn’t much else I could do. At first, I thought I was just following some creep of a neighbor who was fond of playing jokes on the new residents, but now I had a feeling that he was more than just a creep of a neighbor. He was a madman.
A true madman.
Thinking about me standing in the shabby flat of a drunken maniac, staring at his collection of dead cats might have been comical if it weren’t for the fact that the way he looked at me seemed almost threatening.
After finishing the tour of his gruesome pet cemetery, he turned to me once more and he stood there. Unmoving, without a word, he stared at me. A look of confusion settled onto his face.
“Why?” he inquired.
“Uh…why what?” I asked, confused myself.
“My scar, my cats, you saw it all, and yet, you didn’t run away from me. There’s something special about you, Gloria, you’re not like the rest of them.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that so I shrugged.
“I’ve seen my share of horror movies, I can handle this stuff.”
A slight smile edged the corners of his mouth.
“If you’re under the impression that my life is like a horror movie, well, you don’t even know the half of it.”
I thought I had had enough. I looked at the clock and decided it was time for me to head back to my own flat and finish the unpacking I had started the previous night.
“Well, I’d better go,” I stated as I began to walk towards the door. I was stopped when he grabbed my arm and I was suddenly jerked backwards.
"No," he breathed in protest, "Stay."
The Rev’s words echoed through my mind as I stared at the emaciated dead cats, floating there silently in their formaldehyde jars. I didn’t even know what to say.
“You’re one sick bastard,” I managed to mutter after a few more moments of silence.
“Of course I am, my dear,” he cackled. He turned and looked me in the eyes. “When I said I lost my mind about a year ago, did you think I was joking?”
I
t was obvious that that had been a rhetorical question so I shrugged. Wasn’t much else I could do. At first, I thought I was just following some creep of a neighbor who was fond of playing jokes on the new residents, but now I had a feeling that he was more than just a creep of a neighbor. He was a madman.
A true madman.
Thinking about me standing in the shabby flat of a drunken maniac, staring at his collection of dead cats might have been comical if it weren’t for the fact that the way he looked at me seemed almost threatening.
After finishing the tour of his gruesome pet cemetery, he turned to me once more and he stood there. Unmoving, without a word, he stared at me. A look of confusion settled onto his face.
“Why?” he inquired.
“Uh…why what?” I asked, confused myself.
“My scar, my cats, you saw it all, and yet, you didn’t run away from me. There’s something special about you, Gloria, you’re not like the rest of them.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that so I shrugged.
“I’ve seen my share of horror movies, I can handle this stuff.”
A slight smile edged the corners of his mouth.
“If you’re under the impression that my life is like a horror movie, well, you don’t even know the half of it.”
I thought I had had enough. I looked at the clock and decided it was time for me to head back to my own flat and finish the unpacking I had started the previous night.
“Well, I’d better go,” I stated as I began to walk towards the door. I was stopped when he grabbed my arm and I was suddenly jerked backwards.
"No," he breathed in protest, "Stay."