House for Sale
The house was dead quiet. Snow swirled around it in feathery wisps and softly blanketed the porch, roof, and eaves, giving a hushed, yet mysterious air to the abandoned dwelling. Years ago, the owners were evicted from their home by housing authorities, but the house was not empty; some secluded life, concealed from the eyes of the neighbors was going on there.
Once in a while a slim, dark, statue-like figure would appear in the window. For hours remaining motionless, it could be taken for a household appliance put on the sill. But a patient observer, who fortunately was not present, could spot that once in a while the object would become alive and with an elegant stretch clear off the window sill.
Who took care of that cat, did he ever come outside? Was he left behind during the evacuation rush? Or sneaked into the dwelling through some unknown passage? Whatever it was, its life was so quiet, so private, that year after year nobody took any note of it.
The following spring, the rumbling of a truck was heard in the driveway. People returned, but not the owners; different people - people from the Housing Authority. They opened the door, the house was full of litter, upturned furniture, and had a very nasty smell. It was a combined odor of raccoon mixed with skunk stench. Instinctively, the humans backed out before heading up the creaky stairway. When they entered a large living room, their jaws dropped. On an elaborate rug, and a large, lustrous cushion, made of embroidered oriental silk, lay a creature with the highest degree of fluffiness, white with black splotches, a face full of contempt, with humongous whiskers of an incredibly large size. Cats!
Cats from every foot of the room stared at the humans with non blinking cold eyes. And then, as if by a command, brushing the people to the walls, the cats leaped down the stairs, popping outside through the open door by dozens; cats of all sizes, breeds, and colors.
There was noise and commotion. Pet control arrived. Some cats were trapped, those who escaped were hunted for weeks. Laborers cleaned the trash and furniture out of the house by truckloads. Construction workers arrived, and with them the annoying hum of an electric generator.
Then everyone was gone. And the house gradually sunk in into its hushed stupor. Large newly printed sign: "House for Sale" became weathered by the elements. Another winter came.
The house stood dead quiet, with frost glittering on the window panes, blinding anyone who looked at it with a dazzling glare, as a warning: "Do not enter", keeping its stories to itself.