This is a true story of what happened to me when I was about thirteen years old. Up until this time, whenever Mum and Dad went out of an evening we had a babysitter. However now I was a teenager, and the oldest of four children my mother and father considered that I should be able to look after my siblings whilst they went out for the evening.
The evening progressed very well, with all of us watching TV. As time progressed I became worried, expecting mother and father to turn up at any second, so I kept pushing and persuaded my siblings to go to bed before our parents arrived home. Partly to prevent my brother and sisters sneaking back down to watch the telly, and partly to prove to my father and mother that I was adult material, unafraid, and willing to adopt my adult role, I went through the house turning off every light until the only lights remaining were the landing light, and the light in my bedroom, which I shared with my brother.
Now I think I should mention that we lived in a farmhouse, in a remote location at least a mile from the nearest farm. There were no sources of light, like street lights, when it was dark, it was Dark! The time was getting on for 11pm and as I said, I had turned out all of the other lights in the house except the landing light and my bedroom light. I was on the landing preparing the final steps to complete my plan. I steeled myself and switched off the landing light, rushing into my bedroom with the hackles raised on the back of my neck. I shut the bedroom door and assured myself that the latch was down, there was no lock on the door, but it had a good latch. Readying everything for the final, most difficult part of my plan, I went over to my bed and folded back the bedclothes so that I could get into my bed quickly, and easily.
I went back to the light switch which was about two paces pass the end of my bed, next to the door. I switched off the light, and as I did this, as I took the first step towards my bed and the safety it offered, there was a horrendous noise, a screeching, whaling noise. I thought it was a Witch. Terrified I jumped into my bed throwing the covers over myself to protect me. I lay their shaking with fear. Slowly my sense’s returned. A witch I thought? Why hadn’t she attacked me? Here I am lying under a cover, no adults in the house, easy prey for any witch of significance, especially a witch who could produce such a terrifying noise!
It didn’t make sense! If there was such a witch, why had she not attacked me? Here alone, me the person charged with protecting everyone in the house. So my rationality kicked in. Here I was, protected by nothing, just an eiderdown. No witch had appeared. So what did it mean? Was I protected in some way? Was there a magic about me that protected me from the Witch? I did not know.
I began to analyse the logic of the situation, there had been a noise, and I had not imagined it. I realized that it was unlikely to be something sinister like a witch or a demon of some sort. What else could it have been? There was definitely a screech of some description. What could make such a noise, an animal, a cat maybe? That made sense, a cat, it did sound a bit like a cat, a scared cat, a cat in trouble. So how did a cat become so scared, in so much trouble at just the time that I switched out the light? Now, there was the basis of a rational explanation! A cat scared me, but what had scared the cat?
It was an old farmhouse with dormer windows. I had this mental picture of the cat sat on the roof hunting for prey, taking advantage of the light spilling from the windows to aid it in its hunt. As I proceeded around the house, the cat losing its advantage of the light from room to room as I extinguished it, jumped across the roof to the vantage point on the next dormer window. Eventually the cat found it’s self on the dormer window of the landing. As this light was extinguished the cat continuing his hunting strategy leaped across, to the last remaining source of light. Unfortunately just as the cat committed itself to its leap, I turned off the last light, throwing the scene in to pitch blackness, much to the cat’s surprise! The sudden darkness must have been enough to throw the cat of its stride; it missed its footing, and began sliding down the roof. Realizing its peril, in a terrible fear for its life, (and probably a bit of indignation); it let out the bloodcurdling howl that had caused so much terror in me.
Next day I looked for the cat, expecting to see a body on the ground outside my window. But there was no corpse to be found. So I imagine that either something else other than the cat scared me, something sinister, or more likely, the cat used up one of its nine lives and lived for another day, and probably with a phobia for heights.
