The House on Clamoribus St

Chapter 11 - Jamie

​The front porch looked just as menacing as the rest of the house. It's wood was cracked, and there was even a stair missing. I wasn't sure if it would hold my weight, but the thought of standing out in the dark well a howling beast came to take a taste of Jamie sized delicacy sounded more dangerous then falling through a floor board.

    The cat sprang over the steps and landed safely onto the porch, it's little paws practically giving a pirouette. 
    “Rub it you satanic minion.” I muttered, giving the first step a practice step. When the ground didn't rise up to greet me, I took the next step with more caution. 
    Step three, or the lack there of, required a balancing act, but thankfully a summer of gymnastic classes helped to keep me stable. 
    When I finally rose up the last step, the cat had already moved on to stand expectantly by the door. “Got a hot date or something?”
    “Meoow.” 
    “Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm boring you.” 
    “Meoooow.” 
    “Well, there's no need to be rude about it.” 
    I approached the door with less certainty, praying that John, and Starlight, had really come this way. If they were out there becoming wolf chow, I didn't know how I'd live with myself. 
    Raising a shaking fist to the wood, my first knock fell just shy of pathetic. If I had been looking down at the cat I knew what look he would have been fixing me with. Even I was getting tired of my random chicken moments. Bringing my hand back up, I made my second knock count. 
    The result was sadly the same. 
    No one came to answer, leaving me out in the night wondering how long I had before life started becoming a poor rendition of 'Little Red Riding Hood'. Who was wolf meat now? Not this little piggie. 
    I gave the door a more solid rap, just in case, but as it appeared that no one had any intentions of letting me in, I had to take matters into my own hands. If the home owners wanted to call the police for a trespassing, then they could do so knowing that I would 180 them with a call to an inspector about their haphazardly constructed cemetery. Take that house of horrors! 
    With a sigh I grabbed the icy door handle and proceed to let myself, much to 'Boss Cat's delight. 
    “Ok,” I told the feline, “Were just here to find a phone and call for some help. No funny business, mkay?”
    “Meeeeow.” 
    “I'm serious bro. We don't want any trouble.” 
    “Meow.”
    “Are you arguing with me?” 
    The yellow eyes of the black beast stared up at me as if to say, 'And what are you going to do about it?' 
    I couldn't believe me poor luck. A car accident.... Left alone.... House that smells like moth balls and the death of joy.... And now a Cat that probably enjoyed it's patate with a silver spoon. Could this night possibly get any worse? 
    “Hey,” A bored tone suddenly called out, “What are you doing here?”