The Darkest Hour
It's a small and quick funeral, family only. Everybody is quiet; no one sheds a tear. Not even the heartbroken old Mrs. Morelli. Her younger son is buried next to her mother-in-law. She turns away and slowly walks toward the waiting car with the help of her older and now only son. She has nothing to say. Her heart feels empty. A lot of things things went wrong when Joe was a kid. She was too busy dealing with life and her constantly cheating and sometimes violent husband. She didn't raise Joe right. She was too exhausted. She was bone-tired. She neglected the signs. And now Joe had paid the price. She knows she will never be able to forgive herself. She has tried to blame Stephanie but failed. She's glad it's over now. She's tired of making excuses. She has grown used to the way people stare at her. She's a murderer's mother. She feels no anger toward her son's killer. She doesn't have many years left. Now she just wants to go home and take a nap with her youngest grandson's cat. She always likes cats. The Morellis get in their cars and drive away. Evening falls. It's a moonless night, the seventh day of the seventh month in lunar calendar*.
The big black-and-white cat lets out a soft hiss and stands up in the bed.
He twitches his bushy tail as his clear green eyes lock on the invisible shadow hidden inside the murky darkness. The house is quiet. The little boy sleeps on. The room turns cooler. The shadow simmers as if trying to creep closer. The cat bares his fangs and makes a low, silky growl. He can see through light and darkness. He doesn't like what he senses and feels. He's ready to stand his ground and chase the shadow away. He has magic of his own. He's a warrior. He's not afraid to use his claws. He will shred the faceless shadow into pieces. The shadow stirs and becomes denser. The cat tenses up and flattens his ears. The man sleeping on the king size bed in the master bedroom suddenly awakes. He ease out of bed without disturbing his sleeping wife and heads toward his son's room. He walks without a sound. He opens the door. He turns on the light. The shadow shatters. The cat meows.
Carlos Manoso kneels down by the bed, gently placing a large warm hand on his son's face. He's grateful his loved ones are all safe.
~The End~
* The seventh month in the lunar calendar is known as Ghost Month in Chinese culture.