Note from the Author..(Here is a  story based on a gravestone which I once saw in a local cemetery, whilst I was looking for likely names.........a great place to look)

 

 

A Cat In Hell's Chance

The old man saw the question in the eyes of passers-by, as they noticed the unusual grave ornament. He stood and stared at the black, cold, menacing effigy on the marble rim-stone of the grave. Fingers of weak sunlight breaking through the  fir tree  canopy above it caught the  frost on its surface, making it sparkle.  The dark object was secured by a heavy link chain, the other end of which disappeared deep down into theearth of the grave. Behind it was a simple plaque which read.

 

Elizabeth Fichsher, died August 15th 1997, aged  Sixty  Two Years... R. I .P.

The old man, gave a rueful smile and carried on feeding the resident  squirrels with bread, waving away hordes of marauding feral pigeons who wanted a share. The cemetery was a place he loved, enjoying its peace and quiet. It was an oasis of calm in a city readying itself for Christmas, where almost every shop echoed with carol music and  house windows displayed  twinkling lights and seasonal decorations.Seth Fichsher’s peaceful surroundings were disturbed only by a few squawking  crows fighting territorial battles in the trees and people using the tarmac path through the graveyard as a shortcut. The black stone cat on the grave plinth  was exciting and frightening, providing a source of mystery and wonder  for  local people and especially for their children.

Rumours abounded that on certain nights, an apparition of a screaming woman dressed in night-clothes, pursued by cats could be seen and heard on the cemetery path.  Seth laughed at the stories, for he knew the reason for the stone cat’s existence. The stories had become a great topic of conversation in local shops and pubs. Could there be any truth in them? He sometimes wondered.  Was it  possible?  No! People had simply read the media ‘hype�?over Betty’s death and the following police investigation and let their imaginations run away with them. 

 The city graveyard’s main pathway was  always in view from outside, if you were close and bothered to look through the spiked railings. At night, it was dimly lit by light from nearby terraced houses and street lighting from the neighbouring streets which ran parallel to it. It was a place where eyes and ears might be easily  deceived in poor conditions. Any apparition was most likely created by a trick of light, a vivid imagination and any sounds were probably just tom-cats having fights over mating selection.

 

Seth smiled as he realised that if it hadn’t have been for feline intervention, he might not be standing here now. He owed them! While the black stone cat and chain on the grave may have  appeared odd to some people, it was  fitting and perfectly logical to Seth. It was his idea and he’d stuck to it despite the  protests of the local vicar who’d told him it was in bad taste, pointing out his concerns that Satanic cults and  local covens might use it for ceremonies. 

 

Nevertheless, he’d finally  won  him over with a large cash donation to church funds and the knowledge that Betty had been a great cat-lover. He had eventually convinced him that it was  a suitable object to have on her resting place and something Betty had told him she always wanted for herself. He'd lied. In reality, Seth put it there  to remind himself of  how lucky he was. 

He remembered when Betty first came into his life and seemed to be everything he wanted. That was two years earlier at a club for older people. He and Betty got on well, shared pub evenings, the cinema and meals at the local Indian restaurant, which Seth greatly enjoyed. Betty was attentive and  loving towards him; characteristics which he greatly missed since his wife had died years earlier. Lonely and without children or any other relatives, unknowingly he became an easy target for her. Seth was quite a ‘catch�? still  handsome, tall and of lean build and kind temperament and most importantly as far as Betty was concerned, reasonably financially secure. Three months after they met, they were married.

 At first, the Seth’s life was much improved. Betty’s overbearing manner was balanced at times by a generous smile and willingness to apologise. But this was short lived and calculated purely  to gain her new husband’s trust. When she moved into Seth’s house, she brought with her five pedigree Burmese cats which she had kept quiet about, not mentioning her pets until after the ring was on her finger.

 

Seth was furious, but ‘bit his tongue�?and tried to accept them. He hated cats almost as much as rats, regarding them as being almost as verminous. It wasn’t long before Betty displayed other darker aspects of  her real character. She nagged  Seth constantly and refused to look after his needs in any way. She cooked chicken breasts and the best cuts of fish for the cats, but nothing for him. Moreover, she made constant demands for money without reason.  Seth became simply a caretaker and her personal banker.  Her shrill voice began to grate on his nerves and simply trying to live with someone he now regarded as a monster, began to affect his health.  Seth began to spend more and more time away from home on his vegetable plot to avoid confrontations.

 

He wondered what he had done wrong to deserve such misery and wracked his brains trying to think  how he could remedy the situation. At times, Betty would yell at him, “Why don’t you  pack your bags and go,  you miserable old cripple!�?nbsp; Seth wilted under her cruel words. At times, when he reminded her that it was after all his home, she’d scream, “So what! You don’t think I’m going to leave do you? Nobody’s  getting me out of here, you silly old man, so you might as well get used to the idea!�?nbsp;

 

The misery continued day and night, week after week. Then one day, there was a change in Betty. Arriving home from the allotment with a load of fresh vegetables earlier than usual, the old man was surprised by the combined smells of curry cooking and coffee percolating.   He knew Betty didn’t like either, so wondered what was going on.  He went inside.  “Home now then dear?�?she asked.  He couldn’t believe his ears. She went on, “Thought you might need a hot drink!  It’s cold outside, isn’t it?  I’ve also cooked you something!�?nbsp;

 

Seth was speechless. Betty didn’t cook for him or never even made  him a cup of tea. He stammered, “Th - th -  thank you Betty!�?nbsp; He couldn’t pluck up the courage to ask about her change of heart, but Betty read the question in his eyes and spoke again. “I know I’ve been horrible to you Seth, but I should have told you. I suffer from manic depression and ever since we married, I’ve been trying to live without my tablets. It’s changed me!  I saw the doctor yesterday  and he’s put me back on ‘em, so I’ll  be back to my old self  before long!�?

 

Relief flooded his mind as an end to his miserable lifestyle appeared to be possible. “Thank God for that Betty! You should have told me! I would have understood! I thought it was me! Perhaps we’ll get along now!  We can have a new start, eh?�?/FONT>

“I’m sure we can!�?she replied, then added, “Come and have your dinner!  I’ve already eaten!�?nbsp;  The old man sat at the table not able to conceal his pleasure, yet not believing his eyes. He gazed at the bowl of  curried beef and vegetables. Betty said,  “I’ll leave you to get on with it! Give me a shout when you’ve finished?�?She left the room while Seth sat with knife and fork poised over the bowl. It smelled good!  It looked presentable! He gathered up a large fork-full and filled his mouth. The heat hit him first. He loved spiced food, but this was something else. God knows what she had put in it.  It was hot; like the contents of a volcano. Seth wondered if it might have been prepared by Satan himself. The awkwardness of his predicament loomed into mind, “What can I do?  I can’t eat it!  It’s too hot!  It’s  revolting!�?He spat it out and thought of how Betty would react  if he didn’t eat it all.  The answer was obvious.

On the floor by the French windows, were three large  bowls of sloppy, meaty cat-food, freshly filled. Seth quickly distributed his meal into similar sized portions in each bowl after lifting out the food already there. Then he replaced the cat food on top of  each portion of curry. If the cats didn’t eat it, he would clear and clean the bowls later, something he often did;  an act usually accompanied by a lot of swearing.

“I’ve finished Betty!  That was nice!�?he shouted and after a few moments, she returned and gave him a curious smile as she took the empty  bowl away.

 

Later during the night there were curious, disturbing noises from downstairs which Seth heard, but Betty  ignored.  Hisses, thumps and squeals so terrible, they sounded like tortured souls in hell, finally made Seth get up to investigate. He stumbled down the stairs to see what was going on. The sight astounded him.  All five cats  lay quite still in odd positions around the room.  Pink tongues hung loosely from open drooling mouths, while their features exhibited absolute terror. Several of them had faces covered in something which resembled white saliva. Seth panicked.  Betty’s beloved cats!  All dead!   What had happened?

 

A voice came from upstairs. “What's up Seth?�?Betty was awake. “I think you’d better come down and have a look at this!�?he said.  While Betty put on her dressing gown and looked for her slippers, Seth gathered up the five dead cats and held them up by their tails, like a gamekeeper with newly shot birds. Betty appeared at the top of the stairs and before Seth could say anything,  she screamed, “My babies! My babies! What have you done to my babies?�?/FONT>