ZsaZsa AvengesA Poem by Pratik"Happy Halloween"The mandarin orb Benign and Bewitching, It had all its fruitiness scooped out, as Juan Carter bore through the tinctures of its farm-bred flesh. Tiny , pink fingers scuttled into the scatters of bread knife, toothpicks and sterling-silver spoons only to be snapped by his father’s beefy, pumpkin-primrose hands. “Now, no fooling around Eth! Daddy is getting Mr. Jack ready!”
Troika eyes Jagged, macabre grin Dawdled In the sphere of Persian-vermilion. Innards lit with Trifling terracotta urns Of kindled paraffin oil, It hung On ebonite curtain rods Teasing the dying October air.
“Hey pops! This is spooky!” Carter Sr. was pleased. “Happy Halloween, son”
*~*~NIGHTFALL~*~* The revelries ebbed away leaving a shriveled Texas
neighborhood. The elms groaned on the banks of the Turtle
Creek as a colony of spectacled flying foxes descended upon the deserted Dallas streets. Somewhere in Pemberton Hills, Carter Residence, little Ethan twitched in his sleep. His unmindful lips smacked off Necco-Wafer crumbs he had gobbled in Trick-or-Treat parades. A sudden, wily chill creaked open the window panes ! Eth wrapped himself tighter in the warlock cloak he was still dressed in.
Wordless POP! A four-legged creature loomed on the window sill. It was a Norwegian Forest Cat. Ember eyes And Furry coat of Smoky, oriental patterns. Ethan Carter slept away oblivious to her feline glowers that ogled him. She sneered as she saw Jack- the Pumpkin head, still bobbing amidst swaying nylon sheets. Her paw rose to meet Its hanging hollowness.
(A pee-wee cucumber beetle clamored out.) She pawed again! Upside down went the lantern! The urns tumbled! The linens at the window got smeared in the paraffin-combustion promptly setting off in a yellow-maroon blaze.
The old Mrs. Connelly woke up squinting at the light from her Cheyenne Road apartment. “Isn’t that at the Carters’? Jesus Christ! Henry! Call the 911!”
o~o~THE MORNING AFTER~o~o Khaki-clad men in round metal caps bustled in the flooded neighborhood. Water still dribbled from the pipes of big, red tanks towards that half-baked Salisbury steak they once called home. The ambulances went bangety-bang as they rushed in to carry off an unconscious five-year old boy. No one heard the oriole singing that day!
“I’m sorry to bother you Mr. Carter But we found these in your son’s room; Might be some animal’s” Sheriff Jones spoke to a dazed man. Long, tabby hairs! * * FLASH BACKS * * A Monday street The chauffeur honked its way through Until a confetti Of whiskers-n-bones Dunked under in a squash. * * * * * * “That must be ZsaZsa, the Sebestyén’s cat But she got ran over...um… last week…by my car.”
© 2012 PratikAuthor's Note
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Added on October 16, 2012Last Updated on October 26, 2012 Tags: Halloween, Jack-o-lantern, ZsaZsa, Norwegian Forest cat, revenge, venegence, fire, accident, ghost, horror AuthorPratikRaleigh, NCAboutHello! I am Pratik Mukherjee from Calcutta, India - the city of Mother Teresa and the famous poet Tagore. My pen name is Aaran, a variant of the word 'Aran' and derived from the Aran Islands, a gro.. more..Writing
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