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The Tale of Black Cats & Broken Windows

Here is a Young Adult Fiction Tale and also a lesson to be taught to all of us, from children to adults; respect the people who have live longer than you. And by the time you have read this story you will know why. Please, like, comment, share and subscribe.

The Tale of Black Cats and Broken Windows

The teenage lad picks up and hurtles another rock at the eerie house, it clonks off the wooden skin of the home, the dead ivy clings to the side of the almost dilapidated home like a person living in the past, unable to let go.  Upstairs windows have already been broken with antisocial behaviour but have been that way for a while as the curtains to each of the room’s hangout like hung prisoners.

“I’m throwing rocks, aren’t you gonna’ do anything?” The young lad Fran performs.

Fran stands at the front gate that has been ripped from one hinge and hangs on for dear life. The garden of the property had become a tropical forest of weeds and bush, everything colourful has been drained and sucked dry, it seems like a mystical mystery as every other garden on the street was pristinely cut and watered on occasion. Fran stands with his arm pulled back with a rock gripped and throws another.  The rumoured witches’ liar lives under a giant black cloud that only seems to blanket this house on the street.

The old lady who lives in the rundown home scrapes her dead-leg across the floorboards; she limps over to the screen-door, opening it very cautiously. A cat in tow within her arm, she rests an eye on the young hooligan who is outside of her gate.

“Young man, what do you think you are doing?” She responds to the stone thrower in her rustled voice.

“I’m throwing stones; what are you going to do about it, old lady?” Fran charges out; picking up another rock.

The old lady shuffles out a little more to the top step of her doorstep. Birds in the sky who circle, break from nature and fly away; the clouds of mosquitoes disburse and vanish into the brush of the garden jungle.

“You shouldn’t be throwing stones at all; it is not a nice behaviour. Why are you doing this?” She replies.

“Because I can and it is within my nature to destroy; even when it is the home of a rixatrix.” Fran picks up another rock and lobs it through another window. He stands tough with pride, believing he is more superior to the old lady.

“Go find prey, Paws.” The black cat looks up into the woman’s eyes; she lets the cat fall to her feet, it scampers away. “Young man, you have broken the rules for your entertainment, you must pay for all you have damaged, I will ask you to go home to where you feel safe with one small idea; I am an old lady, yes, I have lived along long time, so in ending I have been through more fire than you can imagine, I have done worse acts than you are doing now but repaid them all with all the happiness I lusted for. You believe I am only a haggard woman; I am so much more than that. Soon I will be throwing my own rocks at you.” So contempt the lady declares.

Fran’s eyes open to fear, he backs on his feet to the uttered words of promise from the witch. Turning and running away in cower. The old ladies wrathful laugh echoes all the way down the street, following Fran home.

That night as Fran settles snug in his bed, a storm concocts and evil idea within the night sky, spitting bad words against the world against Fran’s bedroom window.  He rests his head upon his pillow and begins to close his eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

“Goodnight, Fran Munroe; do not wrestle and do not speak within your slumber.” A rustic voice spells out from the shadows of his bedroom.

Fran’s eye open with a phobia he could not nightmare about. He tries to wriggle from comfort and shout-out to his parents but no movement and words come to be.  The only thing Fran can do is watch and listen, finally.

“I told you to heed yourself, Fran, as it is within your nature to throw stones for fun at an old woman’s home.” The witch reveals herself from the shadows and comes into dim light from the hallway and lightning strikes. “It is within my nature to deliver revenge upon souls who hurt me. Young people nowadays a forgetful, they forget that we old people have been around, seen and done everything; where you have pride and energy, we have fought and have memory. You should respect your elders, Fran. My cat, Paws, followed you home tonight and as you came to my home for disruption, I have come to yours for destruction.” She comes to his bedside and smiles darkly in his face.

The doubled windows of Fran’s bedroom open with the intruder of wind, ever so grimly. The rain chucks harder and thunder and lightning bang drums and sound symbols to the theme song of murder.

The sinister old lady takes flight within Fran’s room, hovering over his bed; she lets out a devilishly spine-chilling shriek. Fran can still only watch as the old decrepit woman is sucked out from his window into the war that has broke-out within the sky; her overalls and skirt flicker and snap at the wind as she holds herself in front of the moons light.

“You broke my home, now I shall take yours!” She screams.

With that, she extends her arms, pointing her blackened fingernails at the house and begins to hum to herself; she rolls her eyes again and again.

Fran’s whole house begins to shudder with fear, shivering with the real reality that is happening. Photo frames and ornaments firstly begin to fall from shelves, windows begin to shatter; walls begin to peel like skin from the bone. The whole house topples on top of the adolescent, and all Fran can do is witness the wrath of an old lady from down the street.

“The moral of this story, you ask? Respect your elders; they know even more sadistic and evil shit than any of us.” – Alex Kennedy.

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  1. Priti

    Beautiful story yes we should respect our elders! Well shared thanks 😊👍

    Liked by 1 person

    1. alexander87writer

      Thank you, Priti, for the pretty comment. I appreciate your words. 🥰👍🏻


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