Still sitting with her hand gripped to the chair, Rose turned her head towards the television and could see the news story again, warning people about a man with a butcher knife, who had been travelling around for weeks murdering women, with no incentive for committing the murder. The newsreaders were appealing for help to find the killer; this reminded Rose of her days working on the news. Rose knew exactly where the murderer was, he was in the cellar, he had been for the past few days.
“Hello my name is Rose Campbell, you must send someone now. The kill-“
Someone on the end of the phone interrupted, “Yes I know who you are. Some of our officers just checked your house and found nothing, why don’t you make yourself a nice cup of tea and wat-“
“Cup of tea? I do not want a cup of tea; there is a murderer currently in my house and you are telling me to make a cup of tea?” As she said this, a bolt of lightening crackled in the sky and Rose thrust the phone away from her ear, so she did not get electrocuted through the phone wire. She once heard a story of a woman who got fried in this way. “Do you not understand what I am saying?” Suddenly Rose realised that the murderer may hear her shouting, she lowered her voice to a fearful whisper. Rose could hear laughter in the background at the police station.
“Okay Mrs. Campbell, I will send someone out as soon as possible,” said a defeated officer.
Rose didn’t hang up for a while; she sat and listened down the phone. It seemed that the officers were doing the same as her.
“Who was that?” Rose heard someone ask.
“It was that mad woman, Rose Campbell ringing again. She thinks that there it a murderer in her house and wants someone to go and check.”
“O yes, I have heard of her before, the psycho news reader. Whose husband is having an affair?”
Rose put the phone back in its stand, fuming with anger at the ridiculous gossip of the people of her small town. Her husband would never have an affair he loves her. A jolt of lightening crashed nearby. The lamp beside her flickered then turned off. The room was now pitch black and Rose dug her nails deep into the chair. The light then began to come back on, but only at half strength. The phone rang and brought Rose out the daze that she was in. She lunged for the phone and grabbed it so tightly it should have broken.
“Hello darling,” said her husband brightly. Rose was so relived to hear his soothing voice.
“James, please come home,” she said shakily.
“What’s wrong?”
“He is here; he is in the house, our house, in the cellar.”
“Rose we have been through this before, there is no one in the cellar, and you have got yourself all worked up for nothing again. There is nothing in the cellar. I just have to work late sometimes, it’s not my choice. I’ll come home as soon as I can.”
Rose waited a while, but her husband did not return. She decided that she could not just sit here and do nothing when there was a murderer in her house. She got up and tiptoed to the kitchen. She hadn’t heard thumps for a while and began to wonder if it was just all in her head and he wasn’t really there. Rose crept passed the closed cellar door and opened a drawer to get out some candles, as the lights were not working very well.
There was a loud thump that came from behind her, from the cellar. Rose spun around, her heart speeding up with each beat. She stumbled backwards, never removing her eyes from the doorknob.
Thump.
Thump.
The cellar door was closed, but not locked. Slowly the door began to creek open. She could a hissing as the murderer struggled to get into the kitchen. Rose clamped her hand over her mouth, she was too fearful to scream. She shot her body backward toward the counter and rapidly ran her hands over the surface to find something that she could use as a weapon. Nothing. She pulled open the first drawer she touched and chucked the contents from it onto the kitchen floor. Scrounging and scrambling through the mess, she felt a knife and clenched the handle firmly in her hand.
Another bolt of lightening crashed over Rose’s head, illuminating the kitchen and the lights went fully out, leaving candles as the only light source. The small cellar door burst open. Rose had her weapon poised and ready.
She relaxed and squinted at the creature in the poor light. It’s tail wagging as it lay and rolled over the floor.
“You’re a cat!” Rose exclaimed, feeling totally relieved. She put her knife on the side. It was just a stupid cat; she thought to herself and let out a giggle. “Just a stupid cat,” she whispered as she sat down at the kitchen table.
“Just a cat?” a man whispered. A beam of light reflected off the cellar wall from a shiny, sharp butcher knife.
