The Tales From The Tavern Sleep Now My Kitten Sleep
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It was a Friday night. More customers than usual had found their way into big ol' Toms tavern. The tavern wasn't exactly overflowing though. The old man himself was the calmness in person, easily keeping pace with the ever recurring orders.
“As usual,” some may say.
One particular lady had been sitting at the bar the whole evening long, listening to all kinds of stories told by all kinds of customers. Stories of love, desire and lust; some of them truly naughty, some of them a little more decent. After all, the tavern wasn't entitled “The place where stories are told” for nothing.
Nonetheless, that one lady's center of attraction seemed to be big ol' Tom who always appeared to be a little too busy to really pay attention to her humble self.
“That's the fifth pint you're ordering, young girl,” said big ol' Tom as a reply to her ordering said beverage, “you don't have to pay for it if you tell all of us an entertaining story, you know?”
The lady looked up with tired eyes, and replied: “Of course I'm aware of how this tavern works. I've had more than enough time to observe and listen. I've heard over a dozen stories tonight, and came to wonder how it comes you ain't got no stories to tell, old man?”
Tom was took a clean glass from the sink to dry it.
“You know, young lady, there are no stories I haven't already told. Not anymore. And none shall ever tell their story more than once. Not underneath this roof.”
Big ol' Tom paused to pick up another glass.
“...save for Crazy Ryan. He's been one of my regulars since more than twenty-five years, always telling us the same story all over and again. But don't anyone dare say his story is boring. His story keeps on changing constantly, and he always knows how to tell it in such a way that you just have to listen. With him in here you sure are entertained for a good moment or two.”
Big ol' Tom had hardly finished his explanations as an elderly seeming creature entered the scene. It needed a considerable amount of imagination to recognize that this loathly being had once been a human of the male gender. All eyes were glued to him, including the young lady's.
“Speaking of the devil...” said big ol' Tom, smiling.
Although this man that seemed to be more of a specter than human was emitting a dark yet oppressive aura, the guests rallied around him once he had found the seat right next to the young lady.
“Same as every night?” asked Tom.
As the obscure man opened his mouth in reply, the young lady registered a faint odor of alcohol in his breath, but was too mesmerized by his aura to back off.
“Gimme a glass of your home-made iced tea, as always,” replied the Gollum-esque creature, “best in town.”
He looked at the girl through his pitch black eyes, before raising his voice again: “You're new here.”
He pointed his rawboned index right to her face. His wide grin revealed a feculent set of yellowish teeth – some of them missing. The grin wrinkled his face to an even more hideous picture.
“Wanna hear my story?”
The young girl nodded slowly, her eyes glued to the deep grooves in his ugly face.
“Let me see...”
----------------
It happened twenty-seven years ago... Or was it twenty-nine? Doesn't matter anyway.
I was a young man back then.
Believe it or not, this ugly face you're looking at once belonged to a handsome young man.
I was thirty-five. I know that so precisely because my age and my looks mattered to me back then. Who I was or what I did for a living does not matter. I was just I, OK?
I remember that Saturday night – rainy night. It all started right before midnight. I had just turned off the TV, and I wanted to close the shutters . Taking a look outside before I did so, I realized how beautiful the night was with all that pouring rain and the rumbling of the roaring thunder. These cascades of water looked wonderful in the light of the street lamps that were rocking to and fro in the stormy wind.
One lightning hit in of these street lamps , and the whole street went black. But I had seen something in the very moment the lightning had struck.
----------------
Although every last soul inside of Big ol' Tom's Tavern was sitting around the hunchbacked creature – even Big ol' Tom himself – one could clearly feel that he was actually only telling his story to the young lady. To him, everyone else just happened to be there.
He paused to satisfy his thirst, and order another one of Tom's iced teas. Not for him though; it was for the girl.
----------------
I thought I had seen something – or better: someone. A girl! Alone in the rain. Pale face, white gown, long black messy hair.
I opened the window, and yelled 'hello'. No answer. So I got the flashlight, my leather jacket and an umbrella. I didn't have a raincoat. Or I didn't find it. Who cares about that now anyway.
I ran outside. There she was. All wet, trembling, just standing there, doing nothing but stand there.
She didn't say a thing. I just threw my jacket over her shoulders, and placed the umbrella above us. Her index pointed to the house at the end of the road.
“That ruin?” I asked.
She nodded.
To that day, I hadn't known that anyone was living in that ruin down the road. I had always found it a strange place: always surrounded by a light fog. Or was it dust? I didn't know. Nor had I ever been curious enough to find out by myself.
We started walking. She pressed her soaked body to my arm. I didn't mind. It actually felt great. Her smile was happy and tantalizing. How old was she? Eighteen? Nineteen? Certainly no more than twenty.
As we arrived, I felt darkness surround me. A voice in my head told me not to follow her into that ruin, but my hormones were stronger. Stupid me. She took my hand and led the way inside.
There were cats. Tons of cats. A big-ass load of cats! All over the goddamn place! And black! All of them black! Only her bedroom up that creaking flight of stairs was free of these furry little animals.
With every step I took up that stairway, the voice in my head got louder. It was shouting at me to turn around, and run, just fucking run! Or was it just the worm-eaten wood that made that insupportable creaking under my feet? I ignored it. Stupid me.
The voice in me was silenced by her kiss. Or was it because we had left the creaking stairs behind us? These exquisite lips just couldn't be a bad omen. So soft, so sweet. Her tongue was so tender yet delicate as it gently caressed mine.
She broke the kiss to offer me her happy smile again. My heart was melting. One more time she took my hand, and led me to her bed. I followed blindly. Stupid me.
Her tantalizing smell, her firm breasts as she opened her white gown, her pale body as she let the gown slide off her shoulders, her crimson lips, her invitation into her bed... It all clouded my mind. Could these be bad signs? I was all hers. I had cast away the voice screaming in my head as far as I could to blindly give in to the temptations given by this temptress.
I lay down beside her. First, I felt her body. I just had to. My hand ran over her cheeks, her shoulders, her arms. Her breasts were as soft as ripe fruit, and certainly tasted as sweet. My touch made her gasp. Her hand guided mine between her legs.
There it was: the sweet nectar of the forbidden fruit she was. I felt it cover my fingers. It's rich scent awoke the deepest desires within me. This girl was just as much in heat as I was!
A moan escaped from her lips as I dipped my fingers into her drenched cavity. With her tush raised, she tried to push my fingers in deeper. Her claws dug into my skin, announcing the first waves of her approaching orgasm.
She kissed me as satisfaction overwhelmed her. But I was far from done with her. She knew that.
She helped me undress. Her time to please me.
She coated her hand with her own juices, and lubricated my rigid member with them. Her divine touch awoke feelings I didn't know they even existed. She was a goddess of pleasure. And that was just her hand. Imagine how her pussy would feel... I wouldn't have to wait for long to confirm.
She sat on me. She slid back and forth on my cock, her angelic face distorted by the pleasure she felt. My cock found the entrance to her flooded pussy from alone.
Her pussy felt far from what I had imagined – it actually felt... Even the word 'divine' cannot describe what I was feeling in this very instant. There is no comparable sensation. Her pulsating walls, her sweet juices, the movement of her hips, her moans, the look in her face, her nails tearing open the skin on my chest... Ain't nothing like it.
Her walls convulsed as another orgasm ran through that lewd devil's body. Shortly after that, my own orgasm was triggered deep within her. She smiled at me through her gray eyes a smile so full of love. She lay down next to me, and caressed my chest.
I was already halfway lost in my dreams as I felt her pet my hair, and heard her say: “Sleep now, my kitten, sleep.”
I lost myself in a dream that night. It felt so real. Darkness crept up on me. There were black cats all around me. Dozens! Singing. Wiggling their tails. A choir of meows. It got louder and louder until I woke up from it.
The moment I awoke, my eyes fell on the wardrobe. First I thought it was the door to another bedroom; a door with a glass pane. In that other room, a black cat was sitting on the bed, staring back at me through its yellow eyes.
Then it struck me: I was looking into a mirror, and there was no goddamn reflexion of mine. Just that black cat that was nowhere to be seen on my side of the mirror.
That was the moment I woke up for real – in my own bed this time. The whole bed was drenched in my sweat. When or how did I get to bed last night? How much had I really drunk? I didn't know. The curtain waved in the air that was flowing through the open window.
----------------
“The sex part is over now,” said the raconteur.
It was as if every listener had completely forgotten about that picture of true ugliness this man was.
“So if you're not interested in the non-sexual part, please feel free to leave as the story goes on.”
As everyone seemed to have a craving for closure, he went on.
----------------
I stood up, and pushed the curtain aside . To my great surprise the ground seemed dry. Hadn't there been a hell of a thunderstorm that night?
A dream? The ruin? And the girl? The cats? It all came back to me.
I quickly put on some clothes that were randomly lying around on the bedroom floor. Breakfast? You kidding me? I had to go there again. NOW! That ruin...
From afar, the ruin looked like it had always looked: degenerate and waiting for demolition. As usual, a light fog hung around said leftovers of a building once habitable.
The more I approached it, the harder my heart pounded. I could feel it right in my throat. But the closer I got, the more a mysterious force dragged me there, uncomfortable yet tantalizing. My thoughts were bewitched by the past night, my mind foggy as the very place the ruin had once been built on.
From the first foot set in that moist atmosphere I felt ghostly hands pulling me deeper inside. I didn't even bother to resist. No voice in my head told me to turn around. There was too much curiosity. I practically asked for being pushed inside that haunted pile of stones. Stupid me!
The inside was just as I had seen it in my dream – minus the cats. Had I really been dreaming? The thick layer of dust everywhere testified to the age of the construction. I looked on the floor to realize I had left footprints in the dust. But I found more than just my own footprints. Some of them were leading upstairs to where I thought to be the bedroom.
Cautiously I walked up this stairwell. Discretion? With that loud creaking of the wood under my feet?
Two steps broke as I stepped on them. The first caught me off guard. I Almost killed myself. If I hadn't been holding the handrail...
I was scared shitless. I mean... I was stuck in a house that was obviously trying to KILL me! Yet curiosity had taken over me. Stupid me!
The bedroom I entered offered the same picture to me: the dust from decades was resting everywhere. Again, I recognized that very room from my dream.
A white gown was lying on the bed. It immediately caught my attention, for not a single grain of dust was lying on it. A perfectly preserved beauty. And may god kill me if it wasn't the exact gown from my dream.
I slowly moved to the bed to take a closer look at the gown I knew from my dream. A strange spiritual presence surged from that piece of tissue. As if a ghost from days gone by was still hanging somewhere within the white fabric.
Even as I saw the hands of a skeleton sticking out of the sleeves I didn't back off. How long had that body been lying there? How long does it take for a body to decompose on in stagnant air? Dozens and dozens of years? No smart-ass scientist here to tell me?
I let my eyes travel through the room some more. I found a picture on the bedside table. Actually a photograph. These old brownish photographs. They call that color 'sepia', right?
I blew away the dust from it. First, I recognized the girl in the white gown from my dream. Smiling. A person stood beside her. They were holding hands. More dust to wipe off, right on the face of this mysterious person.
I had a bad feeling about wiping away these tenacious remains of dust. Would I destroy the picture? Would I see something unpleasant? My heart knew. It knew the answer to that question. Why else would I feel it pounding right up to my throat?
I let the photograph fall as I recognized the man standing by her side. On that old moldy photograph... The man beside her... There was no doubt... It was me!
The photograph came to rest on the floor upside down. A scribbling on the backside caught my attention. First, I had trouble making out the words. Then it struck me: a date! August 1894!
Eight-teen-frikkin-hundred-ninety-four!
No kidding, dear listeners. The hell no kidding!
Of course I fled out of the ruin. Never set a foot in there again. Well... At least not during my waking life. But ever since that day... I keep on dreaming that same dream every single night. Whatever I do, whenever I go to sleep whenever I close my eyes...
I'm in that ruin. It's warm inside. Someone has lit a fire. Outside the pouring rain. I and my fellow black cats play around. We're waiting. Waiting for our mistress to drag another young man into her spell. She's good at that, oh, she's good! No wonder, you should have seen how she dragged me into this.
----------------
“And every new night, we're one more little black cat in that house. ”
He paused to wait for the young lady's reaction.
“Go ahead and laugh, young girl. Laugh as loud as you please.”
Before the young lady replied she took the last sip of her iced tea.
“Do I sound like I was laughing? Really good story, strange man. I could listen to you forever.”
“So you think, I'm telling you a fairy tale, huh? Foolish little girl!”
One of the regulars approached the young lady, and said: “Don't listen to this old fart's stupidities. Everyone knows this is just a story. He's just got no wife to harass with that lame old fable of his.”
The old man ignored the crude comments of this ignorant customer. Too many times had he been insulted, laughed at and pointed at by unaware people. Children, parents, men, women... All of them. Filthy, dirty humans...
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the black creature trotting around on the bar. Some customers, including the young girl, were silently following said furry being with their shock-widened eyes.
The hideous old man lifted his head to meet the two yellowish eyes of the black cat that had decided to lazily lie down on the spot on the bar right in front of him. Silence.
He slowly turned around on his barstool. There she was, standing right behind him: the girl in the white gown, pale face, long black messy hair...
“As usual,” some may say.
One particular lady had been sitting at the bar the whole evening long, listening to all kinds of stories told by all kinds of customers. Stories of love, desire and lust; some of them truly naughty, some of them a little more decent. After all, the tavern wasn't entitled “The place where stories are told” for nothing.
Nonetheless, that one lady's center of attraction seemed to be big ol' Tom who always appeared to be a little too busy to really pay attention to her humble self.
“That's the fifth pint you're ordering, young girl,” said big ol' Tom as a reply to her ordering said beverage, “you don't have to pay for it if you tell all of us an entertaining story, you know?”
The lady looked up with tired eyes, and replied: “Of course I'm aware of how this tavern works. I've had more than enough time to observe and listen. I've heard over a dozen stories tonight, and came to wonder how it comes you ain't got no stories to tell, old man?”
Tom was took a clean glass from the sink to dry it.
“You know, young lady, there are no stories I haven't already told. Not anymore. And none shall ever tell their story more than once. Not underneath this roof.”
Big ol' Tom paused to pick up another glass.
“...save for Crazy Ryan. He's been one of my regulars since more than twenty-five years, always telling us the same story all over and again. But don't anyone dare say his story is boring. His story keeps on changing constantly, and he always knows how to tell it in such a way that you just have to listen. With him in here you sure are entertained for a good moment or two.”
Big ol' Tom had hardly finished his explanations as an elderly seeming creature entered the scene. It needed a considerable amount of imagination to recognize that this loathly being had once been a human of the male gender. All eyes were glued to him, including the young lady's.
“Speaking of the devil...” said big ol' Tom, smiling.
Although this man that seemed to be more of a specter than human was emitting a dark yet oppressive aura, the guests rallied around him once he had found the seat right next to the young lady.
“Same as every night?” asked Tom.
As the obscure man opened his mouth in reply, the young lady registered a faint odor of alcohol in his breath, but was too mesmerized by his aura to back off.
“Gimme a glass of your home-made iced tea, as always,” replied the Gollum-esque creature, “best in town.”
He looked at the girl through his pitch black eyes, before raising his voice again: “You're new here.”
He pointed his rawboned index right to her face. His wide grin revealed a feculent set of yellowish teeth – some of them missing. The grin wrinkled his face to an even more hideous picture.
“Wanna hear my story?”
The young girl nodded slowly, her eyes glued to the deep grooves in his ugly face.
“Let me see...”
----------------
It happened twenty-seven years ago... Or was it twenty-nine? Doesn't matter anyway.
I was a young man back then.
Believe it or not, this ugly face you're looking at once belonged to a handsome young man.
I was thirty-five. I know that so precisely because my age and my looks mattered to me back then. Who I was or what I did for a living does not matter. I was just I, OK?
I remember that Saturday night – rainy night. It all started right before midnight. I had just turned off the TV, and I wanted to close the shutters . Taking a look outside before I did so, I realized how beautiful the night was with all that pouring rain and the rumbling of the roaring thunder. These cascades of water looked wonderful in the light of the street lamps that were rocking to and fro in the stormy wind.
One lightning hit in of these street lamps , and the whole street went black. But I had seen something in the very moment the lightning had struck.
----------------
Although every last soul inside of Big ol' Tom's Tavern was sitting around the hunchbacked creature – even Big ol' Tom himself – one could clearly feel that he was actually only telling his story to the young lady. To him, everyone else just happened to be there.
He paused to satisfy his thirst, and order another one of Tom's iced teas. Not for him though; it was for the girl.
----------------
I thought I had seen something – or better: someone. A girl! Alone in the rain. Pale face, white gown, long black messy hair.
I opened the window, and yelled 'hello'. No answer. So I got the flashlight, my leather jacket and an umbrella. I didn't have a raincoat. Or I didn't find it. Who cares about that now anyway.
I ran outside. There she was. All wet, trembling, just standing there, doing nothing but stand there.
She didn't say a thing. I just threw my jacket over her shoulders, and placed the umbrella above us. Her index pointed to the house at the end of the road.
“That ruin?” I asked.
She nodded.
To that day, I hadn't known that anyone was living in that ruin down the road. I had always found it a strange place: always surrounded by a light fog. Or was it dust? I didn't know. Nor had I ever been curious enough to find out by myself.
We started walking. She pressed her soaked body to my arm. I didn't mind. It actually felt great. Her smile was happy and tantalizing. How old was she? Eighteen? Nineteen? Certainly no more than twenty.
As we arrived, I felt darkness surround me. A voice in my head told me not to follow her into that ruin, but my hormones were stronger. Stupid me. She took my hand and led the way inside.
There were cats. Tons of cats. A big-ass load of cats! All over the goddamn place! And black! All of them black! Only her bedroom up that creaking flight of stairs was free of these furry little animals.
With every step I took up that stairway, the voice in my head got louder. It was shouting at me to turn around, and run, just fucking run! Or was it just the worm-eaten wood that made that insupportable creaking under my feet? I ignored it. Stupid me.
The voice in me was silenced by her kiss. Or was it because we had left the creaking stairs behind us? These exquisite lips just couldn't be a bad omen. So soft, so sweet. Her tongue was so tender yet delicate as it gently caressed mine.
She broke the kiss to offer me her happy smile again. My heart was melting. One more time she took my hand, and led me to her bed. I followed blindly. Stupid me.
Her tantalizing smell, her firm breasts as she opened her white gown, her pale body as she let the gown slide off her shoulders, her crimson lips, her invitation into her bed... It all clouded my mind. Could these be bad signs? I was all hers. I had cast away the voice screaming in my head as far as I could to blindly give in to the temptations given by this temptress.
I lay down beside her. First, I felt her body. I just had to. My hand ran over her cheeks, her shoulders, her arms. Her breasts were as soft as ripe fruit, and certainly tasted as sweet. My touch made her gasp. Her hand guided mine between her legs.
There it was: the sweet nectar of the forbidden fruit she was. I felt it cover my fingers. It's rich scent awoke the deepest desires within me. This girl was just as much in heat as I was!
A moan escaped from her lips as I dipped my fingers into her drenched cavity. With her tush raised, she tried to push my fingers in deeper. Her claws dug into my skin, announcing the first waves of her approaching orgasm.
She kissed me as satisfaction overwhelmed her. But I was far from done with her. She knew that.
She helped me undress. Her time to please me.
She coated her hand with her own juices, and lubricated my rigid member with them. Her divine touch awoke feelings I didn't know they even existed. She was a goddess of pleasure. And that was just her hand. Imagine how her pussy would feel... I wouldn't have to wait for long to confirm.
She sat on me. She slid back and forth on my cock, her angelic face distorted by the pleasure she felt. My cock found the entrance to her flooded pussy from alone.
Her pussy felt far from what I had imagined – it actually felt... Even the word 'divine' cannot describe what I was feeling in this very instant. There is no comparable sensation. Her pulsating walls, her sweet juices, the movement of her hips, her moans, the look in her face, her nails tearing open the skin on my chest... Ain't nothing like it.
Her walls convulsed as another orgasm ran through that lewd devil's body. Shortly after that, my own orgasm was triggered deep within her. She smiled at me through her gray eyes a smile so full of love. She lay down next to me, and caressed my chest.
I was already halfway lost in my dreams as I felt her pet my hair, and heard her say: “Sleep now, my kitten, sleep.”
I lost myself in a dream that night. It felt so real. Darkness crept up on me. There were black cats all around me. Dozens! Singing. Wiggling their tails. A choir of meows. It got louder and louder until I woke up from it.
The moment I awoke, my eyes fell on the wardrobe. First I thought it was the door to another bedroom; a door with a glass pane. In that other room, a black cat was sitting on the bed, staring back at me through its yellow eyes.
Then it struck me: I was looking into a mirror, and there was no goddamn reflexion of mine. Just that black cat that was nowhere to be seen on my side of the mirror.
That was the moment I woke up for real – in my own bed this time. The whole bed was drenched in my sweat. When or how did I get to bed last night? How much had I really drunk? I didn't know. The curtain waved in the air that was flowing through the open window.
----------------
“The sex part is over now,” said the raconteur.
It was as if every listener had completely forgotten about that picture of true ugliness this man was.
“So if you're not interested in the non-sexual part, please feel free to leave as the story goes on.”
As everyone seemed to have a craving for closure, he went on.
----------------
I stood up, and pushed the curtain aside . To my great surprise the ground seemed dry. Hadn't there been a hell of a thunderstorm that night?
A dream? The ruin? And the girl? The cats? It all came back to me.
I quickly put on some clothes that were randomly lying around on the bedroom floor. Breakfast? You kidding me? I had to go there again. NOW! That ruin...
From afar, the ruin looked like it had always looked: degenerate and waiting for demolition. As usual, a light fog hung around said leftovers of a building once habitable.
The more I approached it, the harder my heart pounded. I could feel it right in my throat. But the closer I got, the more a mysterious force dragged me there, uncomfortable yet tantalizing. My thoughts were bewitched by the past night, my mind foggy as the very place the ruin had once been built on.
From the first foot set in that moist atmosphere I felt ghostly hands pulling me deeper inside. I didn't even bother to resist. No voice in my head told me to turn around. There was too much curiosity. I practically asked for being pushed inside that haunted pile of stones. Stupid me!
The inside was just as I had seen it in my dream – minus the cats. Had I really been dreaming? The thick layer of dust everywhere testified to the age of the construction. I looked on the floor to realize I had left footprints in the dust. But I found more than just my own footprints. Some of them were leading upstairs to where I thought to be the bedroom.
Cautiously I walked up this stairwell. Discretion? With that loud creaking of the wood under my feet?
Two steps broke as I stepped on them. The first caught me off guard. I Almost killed myself. If I hadn't been holding the handrail...
I was scared shitless. I mean... I was stuck in a house that was obviously trying to KILL me! Yet curiosity had taken over me. Stupid me!
The bedroom I entered offered the same picture to me: the dust from decades was resting everywhere. Again, I recognized that very room from my dream.
A white gown was lying on the bed. It immediately caught my attention, for not a single grain of dust was lying on it. A perfectly preserved beauty. And may god kill me if it wasn't the exact gown from my dream.
I slowly moved to the bed to take a closer look at the gown I knew from my dream. A strange spiritual presence surged from that piece of tissue. As if a ghost from days gone by was still hanging somewhere within the white fabric.
Even as I saw the hands of a skeleton sticking out of the sleeves I didn't back off. How long had that body been lying there? How long does it take for a body to decompose on in stagnant air? Dozens and dozens of years? No smart-ass scientist here to tell me?
I let my eyes travel through the room some more. I found a picture on the bedside table. Actually a photograph. These old brownish photographs. They call that color 'sepia', right?
I blew away the dust from it. First, I recognized the girl in the white gown from my dream. Smiling. A person stood beside her. They were holding hands. More dust to wipe off, right on the face of this mysterious person.
I had a bad feeling about wiping away these tenacious remains of dust. Would I destroy the picture? Would I see something unpleasant? My heart knew. It knew the answer to that question. Why else would I feel it pounding right up to my throat?
I let the photograph fall as I recognized the man standing by her side. On that old moldy photograph... The man beside her... There was no doubt... It was me!
The photograph came to rest on the floor upside down. A scribbling on the backside caught my attention. First, I had trouble making out the words. Then it struck me: a date! August 1894!
Eight-teen-frikkin-hundred-ninety-four!
No kidding, dear listeners. The hell no kidding!
Of course I fled out of the ruin. Never set a foot in there again. Well... At least not during my waking life. But ever since that day... I keep on dreaming that same dream every single night. Whatever I do, whenever I go to sleep whenever I close my eyes...
I'm in that ruin. It's warm inside. Someone has lit a fire. Outside the pouring rain. I and my fellow black cats play around. We're waiting. Waiting for our mistress to drag another young man into her spell. She's good at that, oh, she's good! No wonder, you should have seen how she dragged me into this.
----------------
“And every new night, we're one more little black cat in that house. ”
He paused to wait for the young lady's reaction.
“Go ahead and laugh, young girl. Laugh as loud as you please.”
Before the young lady replied she took the last sip of her iced tea.
“Do I sound like I was laughing? Really good story, strange man. I could listen to you forever.”
“So you think, I'm telling you a fairy tale, huh? Foolish little girl!”
One of the regulars approached the young lady, and said: “Don't listen to this old fart's stupidities. Everyone knows this is just a story. He's just got no wife to harass with that lame old fable of his.”
The old man ignored the crude comments of this ignorant customer. Too many times had he been insulted, laughed at and pointed at by unaware people. Children, parents, men, women... All of them. Filthy, dirty humans...
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the black creature trotting around on the bar. Some customers, including the young girl, were silently following said furry being with their shock-widened eyes.
The hideous old man lifted his head to meet the two yellowish eyes of the black cat that had decided to lazily lie down on the spot on the bar right in front of him. Silence.
He slowly turned around on his barstool. There she was, standing right behind him: the girl in the white gown, pale face, long black messy hair...
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