"Cat and Mouse" by Dan McKeithan

Cat and Mouse

by Dan McKeithan

Marshall hammered the for-sale sign into the front of the minuscule lawn. This was going to be one of his harder jobs. This house had been empty way too long. The sellers hadn’t ever lived here. Why didn’t they just onload it and move on? 

Still, he’d need to go ahead and do a full sweep of the inside and make sure it was show ready. He looked at the sky, the sun was setting, and it would be dark soon.

The rusty key turned easily in the lock. He would have to have some new ones made and he’d put a locked box on the door. 

CREAK.

Definitely going to need some oil on the hinges. The interior of the house was dark. Dark and gloomy. Now he’d have to do something about that as well. 

This house seemed to have a history. While it was the first time he’d listed it, it had been on the market quite a few times. There were rumors all around the office that it was cursed. That the house had a mind of it’s own. That it didn’t like the other tenants, so it kicked them out. Of course this was all poppycock.

A light wind sprung out of nowhere, the door slammed shut in his face. He tried the knob, but it was stuck. Well, he’d find another way inside. There was more than one way to skin a cat, not that he’d ever wanted to do that. 

Marshall backed into the yard. The window on the second floor looked like it was cracked. If he could get up to the first overhang and use his jacket to push the glass out, he’d be in like cheese. 

But how to climb up there? Then it hit him. Literally. A ladder fell from the side of the house and hit him on the head. Now the house was just playing hard to get.

Marshall placed the old wooden ladder against the side of the overhang and climbed up. This wasn’t going to be easy, but it would work. When he reached from the top rung, to step onto the roof, the ladder cracked, and the step broke. 

Marshall landed on his stomach on the shingles; the breath knocked from him. The ladder fell to the ground below. Guess there was only one way down now and that was through the window. 

Marshall took off his jacket and wrapped it around his fist. Then he proceeded to punch out the glass from the frame. Shards cut through the jacket and into his fist. It had always looked so easy in the movies. 

After dusting all the glass from the window seal, he reached in and unlatched the pane. At least it gave him a little more wiggle room to raise the empty frame. He climbed inside and dusted himself off. 

The house was dark and the bedroom he’d entered was empty. As long as this place had been vacant, there probably wasn’t any power connected and it was already getting darker outside. He’d have to rush this, if he wanted to get a lay of the land. 

Marshall walked across the room, to the hall. The bedroom light switched on above his head. Must be a faulty wire or something. He’d have to put an electrician on the list to come and check. 

The hall lights came on as he walked to the stairs. One bedroom and small closet upstairs. Not a lot of living space, but perfect for a single mom or a young bachelor wanting to start off his life. A small squeak came from downstairs.

 If there were any rodents, he’d have to have an exterminator as well. Marshall placed his weight on the first step. It caved beneath his foot. Before he could react, he was falling head over heels down the flight of stairs and landed at the bottom. Pain shot through his head, neck, and arms. His legs didn’t hurt. He slowly opened his eyes. Both his legs were turned at unnatural angles.

The panic started to envelope him. He couldn’t move. He’d die here. No one would come looking for him. He hadn’t officially gotten the listing. No one really knew he was here.

“Help, help,” he yelled.

 No use, no one could hear him. 

He tried to take in his surroundings. If he could scoot to the front door, maybe then, he’d be able to open it and someone would see him. Every bone ached as he pushed and scraped his arms to get closer to the door. His legs drug uselessly behind him. 

Finally, he made it over to the door, the lock was easy to turn, but the knob wouldn’t budge. The door was stuck. It wouldn’t open. He’d die here at the front door. Inches from salvation.

Marshall closed his eyes to take a moment and tried again. The front door flew open. Marshall attempted to crawl across the threshold. Something pulled him back inside. Dragged him like a play toy. The door slammed in his face.

The house was playing with him. Suddenly his bones ached in his legs, and he was able to move them and stand. Whatever had just happened, he was glad. He stretched his legs. All good in working order. The door stood open before. Now the house was being friendly.

Marshall took a step over the doorframe. His legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground. Then he was yanked back inside. It was like a cat with a mouse. And he was the mouse.

A jagged piece of wood was lying on the corner of the mat. He grabbed it and moved to jam it into his neck. He’d end this little game fast.

The house laughed or was it just settling? The stick of wood disintegrated in his hand. His legs were better again, and he could stand. But now he understood the assignment.