Rave Reviews Book Club is recognizing exceptional talent in its membership. A literary group has been formed within RRBC named Rave Writers - International Society of Authors (RWISA). RRBC is showcasing these authors on a month long blog tour that I (along with others) am happy to host!
I am excited to introduce fellow author and member, Amy Reece, featured today, day 13 on Watch RWISA Write Showcase Tour!
Check out her outstanding short story, Crazy Cat Lady. Click on her name below (blue link) and also RWISA (purple link) below to learn more about her, and her books! Enjoy!
CRAZY CAT LADY
by Amy Reece
CAT SITTER NEEDED
$50 CASH—One Night ONLY
Apply in Person
653 Silverwood Ln Apt B
Rita looked from the folded newspaper
to the small adobe duplex in front of her. Well,
here goes. My chances of getting murdered or sold into a sex trafficking ring
are pretty good, but I need the fifty bucks. Need might be overstating it, but she wanted to go to
the concert and she didn’t have the money for the tickets. Her meager paycheck
from her work-study job didn’t stretch much farther than covering the bare
essentials. If she wanted any fun money, she had to find other ways to acquire
it. She’d done it all: research studies, selling her plasma, modeling for art
studio classes. Answering a jinky ad in the college newspaper was nothing. She
had left a note in her dorm room telling her slumbering roommate where she was,
so at the very least maybe they’d be able to recover her body. She shook off
the dark thoughts and approached the house.
A tall, thin elderly woman answered
the door. “Yes? How can I help you?”
Rita held up the ad. “I’m here about
the cat sitting job.”
“Oh, my dear, yes. Well, come in.”
She opened the screen door and stood back to allow Rita to enter.
The living room smelled musty but
looked tidy, with sagging, old-fashioned furniture covered with bright,
hand-crocheted afghans and doilies. Several cats raised their heads from where
they snoozed on the cushions, then lowered them disinterestedly. A tray with a
flowered china teapot and matching cups was set on the coffee table.
“Have a seat and I’ll pour you a cup
of nice hot tea. It’s so chilly out this evening, isn’t it?”
Rita sat and accepted the cup of
steaming tea while she frowned at the woman. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“Oh, no,” the woman said breezily. “I
was expecting you.” She smiled as she sipped her tea. “Or someone like you. I
put the ad in the paper and I knew someone would be along presently.” More cats
of every color had wandered into the room. There had to be nearly fifteen cats
winding their way around her feet, perching on the back of her chair, and
leaping into her lap.
“Oh.” Rita nodded dumbly and fumbled
with the handle of the delicate cup, spilling tea into the saucer. “So, when exactly do you need the cat
sitter?”
“Well, tonight, of course. I need to
go visit my sister in Santa Fe. I’ll be back soon after breakfast tomorrow.
Now, let me show you where I keep their food.” She reached forward to set her
cup on the table.
“But, but,” sputtered Rita, “don’t
you want to know about me? About my qualifications?”
The woman laughed lightly. “It’s only
feeding a few cats, dear. It’s not rocket science. Come along.” She stood,
shooing the cats from her lap, and led the way into the kitchen. “The dishes
are here.” She pointed to a row of small ceramic bowls lining a dish drain.
“And the food is in this cabinet. They like to eat around nine and then you can
wash up.”
“Okay.” Rita nodded and counted the
bowls. There were only six. “Do they take turns eating? Should I refill the
bowls after the first group eats?”
“I think you’ll find one round is
more than enough. Most of these are ghost cats, of course. Poor dears.”
Rita stared at her blankly. “Ghost
cats?”
“Yes. They seem to be drawn to me.
They just can’t move on quite yet. They’re not like dogs, you know.”
Rita didn’t know. In fact, the only
thing she was sure of was that this woman was obviously insane. Ghost cats? What the hell? But fifty bucks was fifty bucks, and
if she had to placate a crazy woman to get it, she was glad to. “Great. No
problem.”
“Now, feel free to help yourself to
anything if you get a little peckish.” She led the way back to the living room,
where she picked up a small, old-fashioned train case Rita hadn’t noticed
before. “Be sure to lock up after me. Have a good night and I’ll see you early
tomorrow.”
Rita stood in the middle of the
living room and watched her leave. “Wait! How do I—” she wrenched the door open
to ask her final question, but the woman was gone. She stepped onto the porch
and looked upon and down the street, noticing red taillights at the stop sign
at the far end. She must
have had a cab or an Uber waiting. She shrugged and closed the door, locking it as instructed.
Then she turned to address the room. “Well, cats and kittens, I guess it’s just
us for the rest of the night. At least she keeps this place clean. With this
many of you it could really reek.” She’d eaten an early dinner at the cafeteria
so she wasn’t hungry. The remote was on a side table, so she grabbed it up and
found a cat-free cushion to sit on. The woman didn’t have cable, but Rita
managed to find a rerun of a show she enjoyed and sat back to while away the
hours until feeding time. The cats, for the most part, minded their own
business and left her alone. A few finally crept close enough to sniff her, but
then stalked away. She’d never been much of a cat person, so she took no
offense. Feeding time went off without a hitch and the woman had been correct:
the six bowls were more than enough. Cats came and nibbled, but none cleaned
out their bowls. Many of the cats simply came and stared at the food without
touching it. Weird.
Maybe they are ghost cats.
She got hungry around midnight, but
found nothing but a few stale crackers in the cabinet. She took them with her
to the couch, pulled one of the crocheted afghans over her legs, and fell
asleep watching an infomercial.
The key in the lock woke her the next
morning. She sat, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Good morning! I’m sorry I woke you.
How did everything go last night?” The woman set her train case by the door as
she walked in.
“Um, fine. Yeah, everything went
great.”
“Oh, good.” She rummaged in her purse
for her checkbook and a pen. “Now, I’ll let you fill in your name. Here you
go.” She handed her the check.
Rita glanced down at it, noting the
spindly handwriting, but satisfied that it was indeed for fifty dollars. Sweet. Easy money. She sat up and folded the afghan and
laid it across the back of the sofa. “Thanks. Well, have a nice day.” She waved
awkwardly as she let herself out of the apartment. I’ll
just swing by the bank and cash this, then stop to buy the concert tickets on
my way home.
“Can I help you?” The voice came from
the house next door. “What are you doing?”
“Huh?” Rita turned as the woman
marched down her front path to confront her.
“Were you in that apartment? How did
you get in? That door is supposed to be locked! Oh, I’m going to kill my
husband! He never checks!”
“Excuse me?”
“What were you doing in there?”
“No-nothing! I mean, I was watching
that lady’s cats for her.” She realized she’d never asked the woman’s name.
“She paid me. See?” She held up the check for the other woman.
The woman glanced at the check and
frowned. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you better get out
of here before I call the cops!”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t
do anything wrong! I answered an ad in the paper to come and watch that lady’s
cats for the night. She paid me fifty dollars. See?” She showed the check to
the woman again.
The woman snatched the check from her
hand. “Nobody lives there! The woman with all the cats died two years ago!
We’ve had a heck of a time getting renters to stay because they swear it’s
haunted or some nonsense! Now, if you’re not here about renting the place then
I’m going to ask you to leave. Now. Before I call the police.” She glanced down
at the check, laughed briefly, and handed it back to Rita.
Rita took the check and looked at it
to see what could have made the woman laugh. Her eyes widened as she saw it was
not a check at all; it was nothing more than a piece of torn newsprint. It
fluttered to the ground as she ran, the woman’s laughter echoing behind her.
Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH "RWISA" WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member's writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they've turned you into a fan. WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs. Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent! Don't forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:
Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH "RWISA" WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member's writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they've turned you into a fan. WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs. Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent! Don't forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:
13 - Amy Reece - RWISA Author Page
1 comment:
I love this story. gave me chills. And who doesn't love ghost cats.
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