WEIRD TALES OF THE LIVING DEAD by Sarah Abraham It was midnight! The earth-bound living dead gathered together on Castle Drive. All surveyed their homes of yesteryear; all now restored to their original elegance and beauty this past year. A century ago these were their homes, no one else's. They decided to move back in. Their hearts were filled with anger and jealousy of the present owners, who were so happy and felt so lucky to live on such a lovely street and have a beautiful historic home-they called their homes their "castles." Two years ago the city officials saw the wasted beauty of this historic area, as once it had been the elite part of town, so they decided to restore it to its former beauty. The area had become decrepit and rundown. The houses had been sold and made into apartments and rooming houses. Then the miracle of restoration started. When finished many wealthy people bought the homes, and Castle Street again became known as someplace really special, a desirable place to live, and a place to be proud of. They loved it! All was perfect.until the night the living dead moved in. Their ghostly figures moved through the homes that they had built a century ago. Things began to happen. If they didn't like something, they punished the owners, such as breaking dishes and furniture, moving things around, making them uncomfortable and fearful. Each home was taken over by ghosts of the past. As this strange phenomenon continued-noises, apparitions, doors banging-the neighbors got together to discuss these strange events, some laughing at the ghosts' antics, some filled with fear. Each family had a different story; it was a fantastic string of events. Many hated to admit they were caught up in the unknown and supernatural, but they could no longer ignore some of the violent, frightening manifestations. Some went out and bought guns. There were friendly ghosts and mean ones. People felt the weird, uncanny feeling that seemed to run through the streets at midnight: they saw tall pillars of glowing light that moved swiftly down the street and then disappeared. As time went on, the manifestations became more prevalent, louder and more dramatic. It was eerie. One had the feeling of someone watching one, of not being alone in the area on the street or at home. One felt the sense of "a presence". These bizarre events and strange manifestations, ghostly shenanigans, were all so mysterious, unexplained and scary. Some owners thought of moving, but, as time went on, nothing really serious happened-until one night a paranormal tragic event took place. This is the story of what happened. The real estate agent had just sold Jack a home on Castle Street, and they were signing the final papers. Now the house was his; he was overwhelmed with his good luck to get such a lovely home in the best part of town. The homes were castles in elegance, style, and beauty. He was delighted! Casually the real estate agent said to Jack, "You know there is a legend about this old house. I don't know if its' true or not, but they say when they built these homes years ago often an ancient cultural custom was practiced-a live cat for a good-luck charm to ward off evil spirits in the house. This meant sealing a live cat in the walls or attic when the house was built. It would eventually die of thirst and hunger. Starvation and the lack of humidity caused the flesh to mummify, rather than decay as it would normally do, so the cat and its spirit would live forever in that home. That's what they say! Who knows, maybe you will find a cat in this house." They both laughed then went their separate ways. In the little cupola attic of the house, the cat lay there snarling, spitting, and working himself into frenzy, waiting and thinking about the new owners of this house. His leer became more sinister as the twisted remnants of his own private memories began to mock him. Hate consumed him for these stupid people who thought he was dead. His lips drew back, hard and white in a feral grin that made his face look life a mocking skull. Spit oozed out of his mouth. His eyes glittered in primitive pagan savagery. He let out a screech of triumph as he looked at his sharpened claws lovingly. His evil eyes lit up like coals of fire, for soon the Master Spirit would come with his subjects, and they would all have work to do on Planet Earth. He licked his lips in anticipation; his maniacal laughter resounded. A month later, Jack and his wife had finished the clean-up job inside the house, but not the little cupola attic. His wife said, "That has to be cleaned too." Her weary husband said, "No way, we will never use it anyway!" As usual the wife prevailed. They both went up through a trap door. As their eyes became used to the dim light in the area, they were startled to see a mummified cat stretched out by the tiny window, its eerie light casting ghostly shadows over the dead cat. There he was, as he had been for years. keeping vigil! They looked at him sadly with tears in their eyes. They let him lie; this was his final "resting place". Let him rest in peace! Little did they know they were in the presence of the evil one. As the trap door closed, the cat opened his eyes. His lips curled scornfully, drawn back over his teeth in an evil grin, as he spat and snarled to show his utter disdain for those stupid people. They thought he was dead-HA! Didn't they know his ancestors were gods in Egypt? Were treated as such and lived in kings' palaces? Here he was, sealed up alive in this tiny area, left to die with no honor-and called a "good luck charm"! His laugh became maniacal and died in a deep gurgle in his throat, as he whispered; "They will drown in their own blood!" They did not know that he would live forever. He had paid the price. Now it was their turn to pay the price. The Master Spirit had told him so! He was now one of them free to roam and kill on appointed nights to do the Master Spirit's bidding. The forbidding shadows of the night loomed ominously as he waited for the Master Spirit and his subjects to appear. Hate, anger, and the lust for blood filled him with excitement. His eyes glistened. At midnight they appeared; all were silent. The Master Spirit had complete control over all his subjects. He felt a sensation of power, compelling, irresistible. He looked at his slaves with deep satisfaction. He had brought them along from his Kingdom of Hell to do his bidding. He thought of his throne, creatures rising from the deep abyss to worship him, all his slaves bowing down before him with their glazed eyes and scarred faces-all had been baptized in the lake of Fire, making them forever as his own. Tonight he would add more to his kingdom; someday he would rule the world. His evil face hill of hate, spit oozed out of his mouth as he told his slaves of the work to be done this evening. The darkness of the night was closing in on them, inky blackness, a howling wind, the eerie sounds, dark and foreboding perfect flight for evil. The room was now filled with maniacal laughter. The Master loved the savagery in their faces. He was content they were his. Jack and his wife sat in the living room talking about the strange cat in their cupola attic. They were kind, tenderhearted people; they were glad they had left the cat undisturbed and peaceful in his private graveyard, feeling they had done him a favor. They spent the evening talking about the strangeness of it all. What could it mean? But they came to no solution, so finally went to bed. After midnight they were startled awake by the meowing of dozens of cats, followed by snarling and angry yowling. They sat up in bed in fear; it was sinister. They felt threatened. Something was wrong in this house-they could sense it. They listened intensely, being perfectly still, unwilling to move until they could put a finger on their feelings of dread and fear. Now it was utter silence. They looked at each other sheepishly and said, "This is all a figment of our imagination. We've got cats on the brain tonight. It can't be!" They started to laugh, but the laughter died into a scream of tenor as the Master Spirit and his slaves appeared before them like a horrible nightmare, each face frozen into an individual emotional state, the hatred of hell in its eyes. Their sharpened claws unsheathed like daggers of death. They looked at them proudly; they would use them tonight. Stupid earth people wondered at the strange claw marks on their dead. They were all ready for action-fur standing up on end and mouths drooling with anticipation, spitting, yowling, and screeching in triumph. Working themselves into a killing mood. Jack and his wife clung to each other in terror; they were just petrified. They were seeing things beyond their power to grasp. They became hysterical, incoherent, screaming for help! They knew their end was near. Again the room was filled with wild screeching. Slowly, stealthily, the cats advanced toward the bed. Then howling with rage, they pounced on their victims. Anguished screams. Then utter silence. The Master Spirit watched the kill with his lustful hate-filled eyes on the woman and smiled as they both drew their last breath. Morning came. They found them in their blood-soaked bed, drowned in their own blood. Horror and fear spread through the entire area. BUT no one knew what had really happened. From then on, the house was vacant; people shunned the place because they felt it was haunted and was the abode of unearthly spirits. The house kept its bad reputation, so no one would buy it. So finally it was torn down and made into a parking lot. One by one, people sold their beautiful historic homes. As time went on, It again became what it had been before- run-down, decrepit area of town. The living dead gathered together at the end of the street surveying their beautiful homes gone, again. They said, "What must we do, give it all up?" With a look of apprehension, of fright and hatred in their eyes, disillusioned and unhappy, they decided it was time to move on. Their voices betrayed a hint of melancholy as they agreed to search for new territory, something more invigorating! But they felt so weary! Suddenly they laughed. What a good time we had here! Wasn't it wonderful how they feared us? They felt our presence, recognized the horror of us, their faces paling with absolute dread knowing we have the power to kill them. It was exhilarating! An insane sense of pleasure shone in their eyes! But -- again they felt so weary! Slowly, the dark, forbidding shadows of the night loomed ominously. With one last look at their street, they started out to their graveyard. As they entered, their mysterious, luminous glow faded into the dank graveyard mists into nothingness. The graves opened to receive them! ©1998 Sarah Abraham