19 May 2016 | May 2016
It was a rickety 1970s (maybe)-era Houston abode with thin walls and peeling paint. I saw it once (maybe twice) in the 1990s, visiting my grandfather who still lived there. My mother and her younger brother grew up in the house, who, on separate occasions, had each been the sole occupant of a particular bedroom. One day, my mom’s cat suddenly began paying much too great attention to a corner of the room, near the ceiling where the walls meet. The cat eventually began hissing intermittently with its fur standing on end, eyes locked on the corner. Mom, whose attention had been captured by now, watched in awe until the cat suddenly leaped off the bed and clamored underneath it, a seemingly fearful flight. This was the case on more than one occasion.
My uncle had the same room years later and a dog. As you might have guessed, the dog became entranced by the same damn corner. A steady, low, rumbling growl eventually escaped the dog’s throat. Its fur became ruffled in alertness as it let out alarmed barks. My ever-fearless, 6′- tall uncle reached into the corner, his hand meeting an unusually cold sensation near the ceiling. Dog still barking, my uncle sensed something that didn’t belong and did the first thing that came to mind: string together a violent stream of curse words and let ‘er rip, like only a sailor’s mouth such as his could do. Neither animal ever paid attention to the corner again.
Whatever it was, it was no longer was there.
Submitted by Thundr.
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