Scratching at the Door 

Faint sounds crawls down the hallway.

The cold air causes the house to Creek.  The sound persists. Light scratching upon a wooden door.  A whistling wind calls along the window panes.  A draft rushes to see its cousin outside. 

Four paws stretch out.   With a flip of a tail, Whiskers trots to investigate the sound.  

The scratching of nails on wood grows.  A sense of impatience in its tone.

The wind kicks up its heels and howls a bit.   Dancing trees paint shadows upon the windows.  Dim lights of a rustic living room hold them bsck from entering the house.

Whiskers sits in front of the door.  His eyes fixed about a foot from the floor.   His tail twitches with each scratch.  The sound deepens and adds a thud before the scratch continues. 

The wind dies quickly.   The trees freeze in place.  The thud becomes a knock.  it ends with a deep scratch.   Then repeats.

Whiskers scurries back to the hall.  He turns back to listen.   Watch, just in case. 

The wind howls again.   Trees dance their dance silently bare of leaves.  The windows rattle.

The bang on the door commands attention.  It’s tell tale scratch seems to come through the door now.

A muffled scream of low deep origin rumbles against the door.  It emerges as a whail.  Angry against the ears, sullen in the brain.  It carries the weight of burdens and suffering.  Cringing is the nature reaction. 

Once more the knock comes with a sorrid scratch running down a larger chunk of door than ever before. 

A flash of light drowns the porch.  Shadows form and scatter.  Long pointed fingers cling to the banister as they fade back into the night.

Tomorrow, or the next day yet may return. 

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15 thoughts on “Scratching at the Door 

    1. I was thinking more along the lines of an evil spirit but couldn’t come up with what I wanted and left it to the mind of the reader. Dangerous thing to do. Some of you people are twisted. 😉

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      1. in Ohio we had raccoons that we fed at night. Some were almost tame, other would grab the stray cats bowl and run off to the woods with it. I mean they would hold it underneath them as they ran with the bowl. And if there was no food they would dig up things

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      2. Now that I’m out here….maybe best to leave certain spirits rest peacefully. This area has water and was probably not given freely to us Americans. If you know what I mean

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      3. Don’t worry there will be more. There will be talks of freshwater from the Great Lakes being piped out west with the new people in charge. Dear God, Sarah Palin head of the Department of Interior. They will be doing for oil next to Old Faithful in Yellowstone by fall. The lack of oil there will mean nothing or than it hasn’t been found yet

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  1. You words gave me chills. Very well done. Id really appreciate your feedback on a few of my short stories at Gastradamus. If you have the time, please check out Blue Jasmine…Ms Scarlet and The empty Voter. We want you to be a part of the hottest new blog on WordPress, they call Gastradamus. Gastradamus is my name and gassy topics are my game

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