The Literate Kitty

In the wee hours one morning, a sleepless woman gives up on her futile attempts to lure Mr. Sandman and gets out of bed to sit down at the desk in her home office, where she logs onto the internet to indulge in some mindless surfing.  Connie Bowskill’s “mindless” surfing is hardly without thought, however; she knows exactly what website she’s going to visit--a homes-for-sale site run by a realtor in a larger town some distance away. Nor is the listing number she types in a random one; the luxury address is one she knows by heart. (In fact, she’s already viewed this particular property’s virtual tour so many times, she could recite the contents of every room by memory.) What she isn’t prepared for, though, is the scene before her when the tour gets to the living room... because this time through, in the middle of the den’s (normally-pristine) pale carpet, lies a woman, surrounded by a sea of thick, viscous, blood-red. And, as the camera completes its pan around the room,...