The Devil Walketh About

by Marinda Kotze

“You have the most delightful twins, Ida,” Mrs. Paulson beamed as she rested her stout forearms onto the wooden fence that separated the Paulson’s yard from the Baker’s yard. It was a hot Tuesday morning in late June 1956.

“Thank you, Mrs. Paulson,” Ida Baker smiled and looked over her shoulder at her twin boys, Oliver and Archie, playing with their toy cars under an Oak tree. Their fourth birthday was coming up in September. It was still months away, but Ida had already planned to invite all the neighbours for a big barbecue. It would be the perfect opportunity for her and Wilbur to meet their new neighbours. After Wilbur’s promotion to deputy station master at the Emoryville Railway station last June, the Bakers were able to save enough money to build the three-bedroom suburban home of their dreams at 25 Cedar Lane.

As Ida pinned another of Wilbur’s work shirts to the rotary washing line, she saw out of the corner of her eye something black dart into the hedges next to the house.

“Did you see that?” Ida asked.

“That’s Mrs. Rafferty’s cat,” Mrs. Paulson said. “Well, it was Mrs. Rafferty’s cat. She was a widow in her eighties, passed away about three months ago. Since then, her cat has been skulking about the neighbourhood. It didn’t want to be caught by her children when they came round to clear out the house. Believe me, they tried. The cat must have a bit of a wild streak in him. But beautiful, oh my, you could win prizes with that cat, for sure.”

The cat stayed half-hidden behind a large red geranium bush, with only a set of round black front paws and the tip of a shaggy tail peeking out from beneath the shrub.

“But how does it survive, if no one takes care of it?” Ida asked.

“It gets scraps here and there from the neighbours. Plus, I suspect it’s a fine mouser. Of course, you’re more than welcome to take him in, if you want to,” Mrs. Paulson said with a smile.

Mrs. Paulson’s youngest grandchild, five-year-old Lisa, was playing with the Paulson’s latest pet, a basset hound puppy. Ida could hear it bark and squeal in the background.

“I would have to talk to Wilbur about that.” Ida turned to hang up more laundry. She tried to act coy, but the possibility of getting a cat filled her with pure delight. She had fond memories of Lucy, the cat she had as a child. It was brown and grey, with white paws. It would sleep by her every night and explore the garden with her in the afternoons after school. She had secretly always wished for another cat. But Wilbur was more of a dog person, so she doubted that he would approve of a cat.

“You know this isn’t the first time this cat has been left without a family. Terrible tragedy, what happened to the Nelsons,” Mrs. Paulson said, shaking her head.

“Why? What happened to the Nelsons?” Ida asked, turning the rotary washing line to hang up a blouse. The washing line made a drawn-out squeak in response.

“Housefire. The entire family perished. John, Mona, and their four beautiful children.”

“Good heavens!” Ida said.

“But that’s not even the worst of it.” Mrs. Paulson leaned further over the fence, as if to share a secret that would just be between the two of them.

“Mrs. Dacomb, whose son is a firefighter, said that he had told her that it looked like the family died before the house caught fire. The sheriff ultimately put it down to an unattended candle that tipped over, but I don’t know if you can trust that carouser to know how to spot a murder even if it happened right underneath his nose.”

“A murder? Here in a small town like Emoryville?” Ida asked in disbelief.

“Don’t be fooled by appearances, my dear. We live in a fallen world. One Peter, chapter five, verse eight says: the devil walketh about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. We must constantly be wary of the evil around us,” Mrs. Paulson said.

At that moment, the shrill ring of a Western Electric telephone sounded from Mrs. Paulson’s house.

“I must go, but speak to your husband about the cat. I think the twins would love a playmate,” Mrs. Paulson said in a cheerful tone and hurriedly waddled back to her house.

Ida was still stunned by the story about the Nelsons. She watched her sons play and thought about a saying she had heard years ago: “How terrible it is to love beings that death can touch.” How terrible indeed. Ida shuddered.

She walked back to the house with the empty washing basket under her arm and felt renewed gratitude for Wilbur, the twins, and their new home. Behind her, the full rotary washing line softly screeched as it turned according to the whims of the wind.

***

While Ida washed the dishes that evening, she spotted the cat again briefly as the headlights of the Paulson’s Buick swept over the bushes that lined Ida’s driveway.

“Wilbur, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Ida said softly, hoping she would get her request right. “There’s this homeless cat that’s roaming around in our yard. Mrs. Paulson from next door told me that it used to belong to a widow who passed away a few houses down the road. You don’t perhaps think we should take it in? As a pet, for the boys?”

“Aren’t they a bit young for a pet?” Wilbur asked, putting his copy of the Emoryville Gazette down on the sea foam green Formica kitchen table.

“Maybe when they’re older, we can get them a dog, a Beagle perhaps. I had a Beagle as a child, and it was a great pet.” Wilbur stood up, walked towards Ida at the kitchen basin, and gave her a gentle embrace from behind. “And besides, you know we’re saving money for another baby. We need to be careful with our expenses.”

“You’re right, of course,” Ida said as she continued to peer out into their front yard, now mostly obscured by twilight. “I just feel so bad for the poor thing, living out there in the streets.”

“Someone else will take mercy on it sooner or later, dear. Don’t worry yourself about it,” Wilbur said and kissed her softly on the neck.

***

After lying awake for almost two hours while Wilbur was already fast asleep next to her, Ida carefully slipped out of bed. She walked down the hall, checked in on the boys, who slept soundly in their little beds, and then walked to the kitchen. Out of the pantry, she retrieved a can of corned beef and from the refrigerator a bottle of milk. Ida poured some milk into a saucer and the corned beef on a small plate. Careful not to make a noise, she opened the kitchen screen door and placed the plate and saucer on the back porch.

Ida stayed on the back porch for a few moments to appreciate the cool night air and the stillness of the night. She felt a twinge of guilt for putting food out for the cat despite what Wilbur had said. She didn’t want to go behind his back like this, but she just couldn’t help it.

The sudden barking call of a Screech Owl broke the perfect silence. It startled her, and she decided to turn back inside. Wilbur wouldn’t know. This is just between me and the cat.

***

The next morning, Ida peeked through the screen door to see if any of the milk and corned beef had been eaten. Granted, a raccoon or an opossum could also have helped themselves to the treats, but she sincerely hoped the cat had stopped by.

When she peeked through the screen door, she saw that the plate had been licked clean and that only a small puddle remained of the milk in the saucer. However, what caught Ida’s attention was what was next to the saucer.

A dead rat, almost the size of Ida’s hand, was placed in the shape of a sickle moon around the saucer, as if meticulously placed there as a gift.

***

Later that afternoon, while Wilbur was grilling Frankfurters on the Weber kettle grill for hot dogs and Ida sat on a picnic blanket with the boys under the Oak tree, the cat made another appearance in the garden. As it turned the corner of their house and came upon the family in the garden, it stopped for a moment and regarded them with caution.

“Oh, look, dear! It’s the cat I told you about,” Ida exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

Before, Ida had only seen glimpses of the cat. Now, in the bright Saturday afternoon sunlight, she was taken by its stature and beauty. It was a Maine Coon. A majestic cat that certainly would fetch cat fancier prizes, just as Mrs. Paulson had said. The cat had long, flowing, jet-black fur and a thick, dark grey mane around its neck and chest that shone in the sun. It had a striking set of pointed ears, with extra tufts of fur on the tips. The cat’s eyes were a piercing lime green. Its gaze shifted systematically from Ida to the boys and then to Wilbur.  

Oliver and Archie immediately jumped up from the picnic blanket and ran towards the cat.

“Careful, boys,” Ida said and rushed after them.

But the cat wasn’t startled by the toddlers’ sudden approach. In fact, the cat seemed perfectly happy to have the boys nearby. It stood still as they clumsily stroked its head and back.

“It’s a beautiful cat,” Wilbur conceded and placed his barbecue tongs on a table next to the kettle grill.

“See, the boys already love it,” Ida said, “and look how good it is with them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Wilbur said with a smile. He crouched to look closer at the cat, then looked up at Ida. “So, what shall we name it?”

“How about Lucy?” Ida said, bursting with excitement.

“Uh, it looks like a tomcat to me,” Wilbur said, tilting his head to get a better look at the cat’s behind. “How about Leopold?”

Upon hearing the name, the cat immediately chirped and trotted over to Wilbur.

“It seems to like that name,” Ida said and tried to pet the cat.

But Leopold clearly didn’t want to be stroked by her and jerked away from her hand when she tried to pet him. Leopold turned back to Wilbur and rubbed himself repeatedly against his trousers.

***

In the weeks that followed, Wilbur and Leopold became fast friends. Every weekday afternoon, Leopold would sit in the driveway and wait for Wilbur to come home from work. He would follow Wilbur throughout the house and sit with a regal poise next to him on the couch whenever Wilbur watched television.

Most evenings and weekends, Wilbur and Leopold would be in the basement, where Wilbur did his woodwork. While Wilbur was away at work, Leopold would occasionally allow Oliver and Archie to pet him and indulge them in some play. But after a while, he would quickly disappear into the garden and stay there for most of the day.

Ida only saw Leopold when it was time for his meals. He allowed Ida to feed him, but that was strictly it. He growled and scratched at her whenever she tried to pet him. She tried to win him over with treats, and even bought a little bag of catnip from the general store. But he simply sniffed at the catnip and then sauntered off back to the garden.

Mrs. Paulson’s suspicions that the cat was a brilliant mouser were also found to be true. Almost every night, he would come home with a catch. Mostly birds, rats, and mice, but one evening, it strode into the living room with a particularly self-satisfied attitude.

Wilbur and Ida already knew what that meant and immediately went to the back porch to investigate. On the wooden porch, illuminated by the rising full moon, lay a barely alive basset hound puppy. Leopold purred loudly and rubbed himself against Wilbur’s trousers.

Ida was aghast with disgust and horror.

“Isn’t that Mrs. Paulson’s puppy?” she asked.

“Well, I guess we must bury it quickly before anyone notices,” Wilbur chuckled, stroking Leopold.

“It’s still alive! Shouldn’t we take it to a veterinarian?” Ida said in disbelief.

“Face it, honey, no vet is going to save this thing. Leopold is one hell of a cat, don’t you think?” Wilbur beamed with pride. When he noticed the shocked expression on Ida’s face, he added, “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take care of it. You go inside and watch the boys.”

Ida looked on as Wilbur scooped the limp puppy up with both hands and took it down to the basement. Leopold meowed in response and followed Wilbur closely, almost causing him to trip on the basement stairs.

“Careful now, big fella,” Wilbur laughed and closed the basement door in Ida’s face.

She tucked Oliver and Archie in and went to bed soon after, but couldn’t fall asleep. Wilbur and Leopold spent most of the night in the basement. At some point, she heard the kitchen screen door open and close. Are they going to bury the puppy? How am I going to face Mrs. Paulson after this?

When Wilbur eventually retired to bed after midnight, Ida was still wide awake but pretended to sleep.

***

“I think we need to talk,” Ida said as Wilbur collected his things to go to work.

“About what?” Wilbur asked.

“The cat, Wilbur. And last night. I’m sorry. I know you like it, but it needs to go,” Ida said. “I don’t think it’s safe for the boys to have him around.”

“You’re the one who insisted that we take him in, Ida. Besides, Leopold is great with the boys, and they love him. The only one here with a problem is you,” Wilbur said.

Leopold sat in the kitchen doorway. His lime-green eyes flicked from Wilbur to Ida as they each spoke.

“I’m scared of him,” Ida said.

“Oh, come on, Ida. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a cat.” Wilbur snickered.

“You’ve changed, since we got this cat,” Ida continued. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. Sure, the cat gets along with the boys, but when have you last spent some quality time with them? Or with me, for that matter? I feel like I hardly ever get a chance to talk to you… like we used to.”

“You sound like a paranoid hysteric,” Wilbur said with disdain. Ida was taken aback; he had never spoken to her like that before.

Wilbur stood up, grabbed the lunch bucket Ida prepared for him from the Formica table, started towards the front door, then stopped and turned around. “I’m your husband, not your friend. I don’t know what made you think that I need to spend every waking moment with you. I can spend my time however I want.”

He turned around and walked out to the front door, leaving Ida standing wordlessly in the kitchen. 

***

Although there were brief moments when Ida thought that their relationship was about to return to normal, she continued to feel a distance between herself and Wilbur.

Previously, they could talk to each other for hours. Now their conversations were brief, routinised exchanges about the boys, bills, and what Ida was preparing for dinner. Their lovemaking also became less frequent and more procedural rather than tender and affectionate, like it used to be.

This worried Ida immensely. Maybe I had been overreacting about the cat. I can be so foolish sometimes. To be paranoid about a cat. Good grief! I wish I could just take it all back.

She tried to mend the relationship by being extra supportive towards Wilbur. She gave him space to relax after he came home from work, asked him about his day every evening over dinner, took extra care to ensure the house was clean, and ensured that a couple of his favourite beers were always in the refrigerator. He seemed mildly appreciative of the beers, but would quickly set off to the basement, with Leopold close behind, after dinner every evening.

Ida fell into a new evening routine of her own. She would tuck Oliver and Archie into bed, read them a story until they fell asleep, and then sit at the dining room table and sew clothes for the boys. She also joined the church choir.

***

One Tuesday evening in late August, after choir practice, Ida parked her ash-coloured Plymouth Deluxe station wagon in the driveway and noticed that the house was pitch dark.

The wind had picked up since she had left the church, and she could hear distant thunder, signalling the approach of a late-summer thunderstorm.

“Wilbur!” Ida called into the dark house as she stepped through the front door.

Silence.

He’s probably in the basement.

Ida started carefully towards the kitchen to find a candle and matches. She groped around in the dark pantry for a few moments until she found what she was looking for. She lit a candle already affixed to a brass candle holder and set off to the boys’ room.

As she entered their room, she noticed that their bedroom window, which looked out onto the backyard, was wide open. The window’s animal print barkcloth curtain blew wildly in the wind. She reached out to the window to close it and heard the squeak of the rotary washing line as it gently revolved in the wind.

Two shapes were hanging from the washing line, lightly swaying back and forth in the wind.

I didn’t leave anything out on the line, did I?

Lightning struck close by, briefly illuminating the back yard in stark white light. The light only lasted two seconds, but it was enough for Ida to recognise the lifeless figures that hung from the washing line.

Ida screamed and took a step back from the window. The beds on either side of her were empty.

As she stepped back, she bumped into something and heard a grunting noise behind her.

Before she could turn around, a set of warm, sweaty hands grabbed her neck from behind and started to squeeze.

She grabbed at the hands to pull them away. The candle holder slipped out of her hand in the struggle and fell onto one of the beds.

She felt the grip around her neck tighten. Black blotches and flashing bright lights started to cloud her vision. Then it became completely dark.

Wilbur let Ida’s body drop to the floor with a heavy thud. He walked to the basement and shut the door behind him.

Lightning struck again, closer this time. The accompanying thunder made the house’s windows tremble.

Leopold sat in the driveway. He peered into the street for a while and then started grooming himself. Behind him, flames began to lap at the windows of Ida and Wilbur’s dream home.

***

“It is an old house, but it’s still in great condition,” the real estate agent said as she parked her white Tesla Model 3 in the driveway of 25 Cedar Lane. It was a hot spring morning in March 2024.

“The house was built in 1956, yes?” Matthew asked.

“Correct. It partially burnt down in August of that year but was quickly repaired. It has had many owners since, but thankfully, all the previous owners preserved the house’s mid-century architecture. You really have a gem here,” the real estate agent led Matthew and his wife, Elisa, to the front door and retrieved the house keys from her purse.

“A sixty-eight-year-old house. Gosh, it must hold so many memories,” Elisa said as she grasped Matthew’s hand. They looked at each other and knew that they had found their dream suburban home.

***

Elisa had just finished her Zoom meeting when the doorbell rang. She had turned one of the bedrooms into her at-home office. It had a large window that gave her a nice view of the backyard. The doorbell rang a second time just before she turned the lock and opened the front door.

Two young boys were standing on her front porch. One held a gigantic black and grey cat in his arms. The boys looked very similar. Twins, perhaps?

They wore the same outfit – white and blue sailor shirts tucked into high-waist blue shorts.

“Tag, you’re it!” one of the boys said and dropped the cat at Elisa’s feet. The boys giggled and then immediately ran off around the porch towards the back yard.

“Wait, what?” Elisa was baffled. She turned around to follow the boys, but the shrill meow of the cat stopped her.

The cat sat politely in front of Elisa and stared up at her with piercing lime-green eyes.

Wow, what a beautiful cat. Maybe it’s hungry? I should give it something to eat.

As if reading her thoughts, the cat’s shaggy tail shot up into the air, and the cat gave a loud meow.

“Yes, of course, you’re hungry!” Elisa laughed and stroked its back.

The cat purred and started to rub itself against Elisa’s legs.

Elisa let the cat in and completely forgot about the boys.

***

“Honey, you know I’m allergic to cats,” Matthew said. “I know you like cats, and I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t think this is going to work.”

Elisa was lying outstretched on the sofa. The cat, which was christened Leo earlier that day on account of its impressive grey mane, was curled up in a ball on Elisa’s lap. She had a desperate look on her face.

“Please. Can’t we just try, see how it goes? Maybe some exposure to the cat might help you overcome the allergies?” Elisa pleaded.

The cat woke from its mild slumber and peeked at Matthew with narrowed eyes. It regarded Matthew briefly and then went back to sleep as if it decided that Matthew was inconsequential.

Matthew realized he had lost the debate on keeping the cat and decided to head down to the basement. He had spent the last few days turning the basement into a gaming room– complete with his PC, a sixty-five-inch OLED screen, a comfortable recliner chair, and a set of Razer headphones, with a matching gaming mouse and keyboard. All he still had to do was install the LED lights to give the room a nice atmosphere.

When Matthew opened the basement door, a pungent smell assaulted his nose instantly. This damn smell. I’ve tried everything, but this place still smells like a mouldy carcass.

The light switch closest to the door was broken, so Matthew had to walk all the way down the wooden staircase to a temporary work light in the middle of the room that he had installed earlier. Faint beams of light from the kitchen helped to illuminate his path down the stairs.

The sound of something tipping over somewhere inside the basement made Matthew stop in his tracks.

He kept quiet and tried to listen.

A raccoon?

Silence.

Matthew continued downstairs.

A noise that sounded like a rope under strain, as if it were being pulled, made Matthew stop again. It squeaked and squeaked rhythmically for a few seconds and then stopped.

Matthew kept himself as still as possible to listen. 

What was that? I hope it’s not rats.

Matthew continued further down the stairs and made his way through the darkness to the temporary work light. He pawed around it till his fingers found the switch. As he fumbled with his hands to find the switch, the back of his hand gently brushed up against something, like a piece of cloth. But the contact was so brief that Matthew hardly noticed and proceeded to flick the switch.

The instant the light came on, Matthew realized that he was standing right up against someone. A man. Hanging from a rope that was tied around a ceiling beam. The man’s face was frozen in a tortured expression. Drops of blood were dripping onto the laminated basement floor from his hands.

Matthew let out a high-pitched yelp and stumbled backwards. The work light started to flicker. With each flash of light, it looked to Matthew as if the man’s body slowly rotated so that the man’s grimace remained fixed on Matthew. He was halfway up the stairs when the light switched off by itself.

***

“I swear, a man was hanging from a rope. Right over there,” Matthew said in an exasperated tone. Elisa held a flashlight and surveyed the basement from the top of the staircase.

“There’s nothing here,” Elisa said, trying to be as non-judgmental as possible. “Come, have a look for yourself.”

Matthew hesitantly stepped down the stairs. Elisa proceeded to the middle of the basement and switched the work light on. The light revealed the basement to be precisely as it had been every night previously.

“You haven’t been sleeping well these last few weeks. Maybe you’re just a bit sleep-deprived?” Elisa offered.

“Wait! What was that?” Matthew said wide-eyed. Faint rhythmic thuds, like footsteps, sounded from the ceiling above them.

“Did you hear that?” Matthew looked up to the ceiling. “It sounds like someone walking in the living room.”

“That’s impossible,” Elisa said, unable to hold back the hint of irritation in her voice. “It’s probably just Leo.”

Matthew looked up to the top of the basement stairs. Leo was sitting in the basement doorway. The bright kitchen light silhouetted him, emphasising his pointy ears and broad mane. The tip of his tail tapped soundlessly against the floor while he stared at Matthew with a penetrating look.

“Yeah, you’re right. I think I should head to bed,” Matthew said and hustled up the stairs. The cat playfully swatted at him as he passed Leo in the doorway.

Elisa giggled at Leo’s faux attack, but Matthew couldn’t help feeling like the cat was making fun of him.

***

Elisa closed her home office door behind her and sat at her desk. She didn’t have any work to do. It was a Saturday. But she just needed some space. A little break from Matthew. It was a late afternoon in mid-August, five months since they moved in.

She watched Leo prowling around the garden through the open window, stalking something in the Azalea bushes. I love that cat. I would do anything for it.

The soft squeak of the rotary line caught her attention for a moment. That thing squeaks a lot, dammit. I should ask Matthew to fix it.

Matthew. Elisa sighed. Since he lost his job three months ago, he’s been acting increasingly paranoid and needy.

Elisa wanted to be supportive, but it was becoming difficult. She had to remind herself that she loved and wanted the best for him. But she was getting frustrated. Although she earned more than he did, his income helped cover many of their day-to-day household expenses. Now, with that gone, their disposable income was virtually non-existent.

And he was not really looking for a job, she could tell. He spent a lot of time sleeping or going out with friends. It was as if he were avoiding being at home. Meanwhile, she had to stay home and work. 

Oh, and the constant whining about the noises.

Matthew kept insisting that there was something ominous in the basement. So much so that he refused to go down there. According to him, there were also strange noises in the hallway at night. More than once, he told Elisa that he had heard a woman crying outside their bedroom door.

One night, he woke Elisa up in a panic to tell her that he heard a woman repeating the words “the devil walketh about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour” over and over. The voice was so close it felt to him as if the woman was standing right next to their bed.

Perhaps he should see a psychiatrist. Although I don’t think we can afford that right now.

An unexpected cool breeze swept through the loose curtains, sending a momentary chill down Elisa’s spine. She stood up to close the window.

At least he stopped complaining about the cat. He must’ve realized that I wasn’t going to give it up. I wouldn’t give Leo up for anything.

But Matthew’s constant sniffing, sneezing, and scratching at his arms was a bit annoying. Apparently, the allergy medication wasn’t working. I know I should be more concerned about his well-being, but… for some reason, I just don’t know if I really care anymore.

***

Matthew climbed out of an Uber in front of 25 Cedar Lane. His head was buzzing, and he felt a bit unsteady on his feet. I guess they were right when they said that you shouldn’t drink alcohol with antihistamines.

All the lights were already off in the house. Is it that late?

Matthew stopped for a moment in front of the porch. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he could smell a slight electrical scent in the air. Ah, a nice thunderstorm to fall asleep to. But then again, can one really get a good night’s sleep in this house? Only Elisa, apparently.

Matthew sighed. If only we had gone with the house in Greensburg.

He fished for his house keys in his jeans pocket and proceeded to the front door.

“Oliver? Archie?” a woman’s voice echoed from the backyard.

Matthew’s heart almost skipped a beat. Was that our neighbour?

Matthew steeled himself and walked around the house. It was dark, but the neighbour’s back porch light cast a faint glow over the garden, allowing him to discern some of the familiar features of the back yard.

It was quiet, except for the rustling of the Oak trees’ leaves and the squeaking of the rotary washing line in the wind.

A pair of glowing green eyes stared at Matthew from the bushes at the far end of the garden. The eyes bored into him like laser beams.

That damned cat.

He never wished harm upon any animal, but he wouldn’t mind if that cat disappeared one day.

Matthew picked up a rock from a garden bed beside him and threw it at the glowing eyes. The rock missed by a few feet. Unperturbed, the eyes kept their stare locked onto Matthew.

“Did you just throw a rock at my cat?” Elisa’s voice was right behind him.

Matthew swivelled. How did she sneak up on me so quietly?

Elisa’s shoulder-length blonde hair blew in the wind.

“I…I just wanted him to stop staring at me. It was freaking me out,” Matthew stammered.

“You could’ve hurt it,” Elisa said in a bitter tone.

“I know, honey. I’m sorry,” Matthew said.

“I’m not sure if just saying sorry is going to be enough,” Elisa said and stepped towards him.

“Uhm, I…I didn’t mean to hurt him. Really, I swear.” Matthew reflexively took a step back.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Elisa said, taking another step closer. “You don’t seem to respect me anymore. You lost your job at a time when you knew we needed both incomes. You aren’t putting in the effort to look for a new one. You sit around at home all day and go out to the bar with your friends at night. How do you think that makes me feel?”

He knew a confrontation like this was overdue. He felt guilty. But he also felt stuck and didn’t know what to do about it. Maybe it was the lack of proper sleep. Perhaps it was the unsettling vibe that he constantly felt in the house. He felt like there was a distance between him and Elisa. Not just because of his lack of employment. There was something else. He didn’t know how to explain it to her. It didn’t seem like she would understand. 

“I’m sorry, Elisa. I feel terrible. I didn’t intend for things to be like this.” Matthew felt ashamed of himself.

The first raindrops started to pelt down on them, and thunder rumbled overhead.

Elisa just stared at Matthew.

“We should probably get inside. It looks like a storm is coming,” Matthew said and gestured to the house.

But Elisa remained still and kept her gaze on him.

“Honey,” Matthew said and reached out to her, but his arm stopped midway.

She held a long, serrated vintage Scimitar butcher knife in her right hand. He remembered giving her that knife for her birthday last year.

“Why do you have…” He didn’t have a chance to complete his sentence.

She raised her right arm and lunged at him. She had a menacing look on her face, and her eyes gleamed bright green.

The knife came down on Matthew’s chest and neck in rapid, aggressive blows, only missing its targets a few times.

When it was over, Elisa sat next to Matthew’s body. Rain poured over her and washed the blood off her hands, arms, and clothes. She stared at her hands. The knife lay sunken into the lawn next to Matthew.

The sudden flash of a lightning bolt that struck nearby lit up the backyard in stunning white light.

It made Elisa think about how God was looking down on her, and through that brief flash of light, He must’ve seen what she had done.

She wasn’t religious, but the thought of God being there, up there somewhere, while she was sitting down here in the garden suddenly made her feel small and vulnerable.

What have I done?

She looked at the house and saw Leo sitting on the back porch, grooming himself.

What have I done?

Leo stopped grooming himself and looked at Elisa. His green eyes glimmered in the darkness.

Dear God. What have I done?

Elisa started to sob. The rain washed over her face so that she couldn’t tell the difference between her tears and the raindrops that poured down her face.

You have one last thing to do, Elisa.

There’s no turning back now.

Do it.

She stood up and walked to the house as lightning struck once more.

Leo didn’t follow her inside when she opened the kitchen screen door.

He started to groom himself again. He stopped briefly at the sound of the basement door slamming shut, but then continued undisturbed.

© Marinda Kotze, 2025

Contact me:
Feel free to contact via email at marinda@marindakotze.com if you have any queries or would like to share something with me.

Subscribe to my mailing list:
English mailing list | Afrikaans mailing list

Follow me on social media:
Facebook | X (Twitter) | Instagram

Bonus Content Related to The Devil Walketh About:

Playlist for The Devil Walketh About:

If you liked The Devil Walketh About, you might also like: