Halloween is almost upon us, and I'm blogging about cats, specifically black cats.
Did you know that a black cat crossing your path by moonlight means death in an epidemic? This is an Irish superstition. Dread of cats, especially black cats, first arose in
Europe in the Middle Ages, particularly in . England
The notion of witches transforming themselves into black cats in order to prowl streets unobserved became a central belief in
during the America witch hunts. Even though many societies tried to drive cats into extinction and Salem even burned thousands of black cats because they believed they were a witch by day and a black cat by night. France
There are others who believe a black cat brings good fortune. On the
Yorkshire coast of , wives of fishermen believe their men will return safely if a black cat is kept in the house. Some believe a black cat in the audience on opening night portends a successful play. Britain
Her heart pounded frantically. Jolene pushed her covers off and jumped out of bed, her gaze on the clock. in the morning. She had a caller. Horror pulsed through her veins, and then she grabbed her purse.
It can’t possibly be him.
Come on, Jolene, answer it.
“What took you so long, Jolene?” a muffled voice asked.
She tightened her grip on the cell. No. How did he get this number?
“Come on, speak to me. I know you’re there,” the whisperer said in a low raspy voice. “Don’t make me come in there.”
“What do you want?” He knew where she was. How could he? “How did you get this number?” she demanded, rubbing her palm on the pale floral bed cover. Was he outside? She wanted to hang up, but that never worked. He’d call all night then.
“Jolene, I’m disappointed in you. You were around too many people tonight for me to get to you.”
She rose and walked to the window, feeling cold in spite of her olive green cotton pajamas. If only he’d talk in a normal tone, she might recognize the voice. “Why are you harassing me?” she asked, sliding the light green curtain aside so she could peek out. There weren’t any new cars parked on the street, but he could’ve parked anywhere and be outside the house.
“I thought we were friends. Don’t you like it when I tell you all the things I’m going to do to you?” He cackled loud and long.
She held her breath and listened. Was he still there? No sound. He must’ve hung up. Softly, she started to close her cell.
“Don’t hang up on me, Jolene.”
“Hello.” The buzzing told her she’d lost him. What would he do now? Call her back. She stared at the phone, her shoulders hunched, and the tendons in her neck tightening.
After a few moments, she rose, went to her bed and climbed in pulling the covers around her. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but she didn’t want to wake her sister or call her brother to talk to him. This was her problem to take care of. She would call the police later this morning and make a report.
Jolene grabbed the phone; she knew it was him again. She’d made him mad by hanging up on him even though it had happened accidentally. Without saying anything, she listened, hoping it wasn’t him.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
The loud click told her he was finally gone. Her hand shook so badly she could hardly reach the oak end table to lay her cell on it. She’d never sleep the rest of the night. She had to figure out who this person could be.
The only person she knew this crazy was Les, but she didn’t know how he could’ve gotten her numbers. She’d never met him before tonight.
Pulling the covers over her head, she burrowed deeper into the bed. She’d always been afraid of the boogie man, and now he was really after her.