The Calling for the Feast

“The Calling for the Feast”
10/25/07

The clock read 2:45 am.
The crashing against the door told us that the siege was on.
The outer perimeter had been breached
The battle had begun.

Thud, thud, thud!
The sound was vaguely reminiscent of waves thundering against a rocky shoreline.
Yet, this was no gentle force of nature.
This was a barbarian driven by its primal, basic instincts.
A creature obsessed with hunger and nothing else.
The battering at the door stopped for only a moment as the beast uttered its hollowing cry for substance, the Calling for the Feast.

The woman still slumbered, in a state of ignorant bliss that I so craved.
But the monster would not relent, for its hunger knew no bounds.
Thud, bang, crash, tormented cry of starvation!
I pulled myself from the warmth of my bed, shuffling towards the door in a groggy state of semi-consciousness.
My fingers closed on the cold doorknob when fear suddenly took hold of my heart.
What if we had nothing to abate the beast’s hunger?
Surely, it would be the end of our slumber, the end of a good beginning to the next day.

With my heart in my throat, I slowly opened the door and peered out at the terrible creature,
Its gold eyes glowed wickedly in the light of the hallway,
Its claws gleamed on the whiteness of the tile, clicking as the fiend paced impatiently.
Its wiry, furry orange body twitched with eager energy.
Its blood-red tongue licked its fanged maw, already tasting the food it was calling for.
The sound of its hungry cries ceased and the beast, sleek and lithe, slipped into the shadows of the kitchen.
I did not see it as I made my way into the darkened room but I knew it was there, waiting to for the feeding to begin.

Joyous was my heart when I saw that we still had something to please the monster,
To sate its appetite, silence the Call, and to carry it through to the morning.
As I began the ritual of preparing the creature’s meal, I silently prayed to God that it would be enough.
As I pulled the creature’s dish forth and placed the offering before it,
I began to bite my nails nervously as the demon sniffed the food.
If the beast was not pleased with the offering, there would be no rest tonight.

Moments turned into eons as I watched, waiting for the creature to give me my leave or my doom.
When the strange sounds of rumbling contentment and the gnashing of teeth reached my ears, I breathed forth a sign of relief for I knew that the beast had been appeased.
Such was my gratitude and relief that I even dared to give the monster a pat upon its head, which was duly ignored in favor of sating its hunger.
No matter, for I had defeated the creature’s hunger and won our freedom.

As, I returned to the comforting confines of my bed.
The woman squinted in the sudden intrusion of the nightlight as the door closes once more, and asked.
“Are we saved?”
I kissed her on the cheek and reassured her that the creature would be silent ‘til morning.
She returned once more to her slumber as I returned to the dreamscape where there are no ravenous monsters or orange terrors lurking outside my bedroom door.
As the last bits of consciousness faded away, I muttered that so often used phrase I reserved for the endless frustration that is our pet.

“Damn cat.”