for a rainy day

Once there was a cat. His name was Ronaldo.

He was a cat. Independent. Sassy. And constantly roaming around.

Selma, his owner, lived in the allyway between two buildings on the street next to Freddy's. She noticed he hadn't come running down the sidewalk when she called his name, and got a little suspicious. She rounded the corner that he had walked to the left of when she last saw him, and stepped up the sidewalk calling his name, to no avail. She searched the surrounding blocks and streets for him, to no avail. She searched EVERYWHERE, that is, except for Freddy's. It had been closed for decades, but it's reputation was still toothed. People still came and didn't leave from there despite this. Nobody wanted to touch the place. That is, except Selma.

She stared at the empty door frame; locks no longer a concern for any urban explorers. The two pitch black spaces where doors once stood looked less like frames and more like eyes, gazing at here with a dilated, hungry look. They seemed to lust for something. "Come closer, we don't bite", they said. Selma indulged them, passing through on the left side of the I beam connecting the double doors.

Selma took a few careful steps forward into the dark, before cringing as she heard something crunch underneath her foot. Hands quivering, she reached into her pants and withdrew a tarnished silver lighter. She flicked the flint.

She bent down and tilted the lighter towards the dirty tiled floor , her knees popping i>>127110198
"You're late on Ron", It said.  It's voice unnerved Selma; raspy like her's but much more severe. It sounded like a cancer survivor who needed one of those razor- shaped gadgets to talk.

From somewhere behind Selma, a child giggled.

"Where's Ron?" she asked, trying to gain some ground against this thing.

The figure awkwardly lifted an arm, and gestured   at the carcasses scattering  the room in a sweeping manner. "Somewhere", it said. "You'll see him soon," it said as it lifted it's face to meet her eyes. It looked mottled, and studded with holes. It's gray  eyes were perceptive and intelligent, peering far past Selma's cornea. They frantically dilated, searching. Hungry, like a feral dog. Willing to do anything to get what it wants. What it needs. It's feral wants were betrayed by it's cartoonish rabbit ears, however decrepit and decayed they were. They hung over It's eyes like a shield, protecting It from the outside world.

Selma backed away from the grim scene, and almost slipped on a metal hand. It was tattered and brown. She bounded down the halls, and was nearing the exit when the double-doors slammed shut in front of her. A golden rabbit's face grinned through her, it's eyes not quite meeting hers, as if they were looking past her.

"You'll find him here,  I bet", the voice called out to her.  Pounding at the door, she heard mewling and scratching at it  from outside, and metal pistons and servos pumping and moving their sums behind her. A brown, tattered arm gripped at the "bone" by a red robot's arm wrapped itself around her leg, and tugged. She was pulled away from the door, and watched a  string of arms drag her further and further down the hall, before turning in left to enter It's room. Despite her kicking and screaming, the arms did not yield or loosen or tighten or react in anyway to Selma's actions.

The arm dragged Selma over dead rats, and other small animals, Ron not amongst them. Bone crunched underneath Selma with a sickening, crisp snap like a turkey's wishbone.n the process. Metal and bits of red and brown cloth


The arm dragged Selma over dead rats and cats and other small animals, maggots writhing within the meats left to them; which was everything except  the stomach usually, which would be gnawed to the bone.

Bone broke underneath Selma with a sickening, crisp snap like a turkey's wishbone. She was left in front of the golden entity, and left to It as the arm departed the room and broke apart.

"You know what I'm here for" It said. It did not move when speaking; the voice was  muffled by something and it's speaker's location made indeterminable. It made no attempt to reach over the two feet distance between it's legs and Selma, nor any acknowledgement of her presence. It was like a golden trophy, tarnished and battered over the years but still dead to the world outside. Still inanimate.

"Let's get down to our business," It said. It reached over carefully, and deliberately. Selma recoiled, and scrambled to get off her feet. She bolted for the door, taking care to avoid the crusted bloodstains and decayed gore, at which point It got up and sprinted towards her at lightning speed. The golden figure shattered her spinal cord with a well-placed strike, forcing her to crumple to the ground. It's legs shook briefly, before bending inwards and throwing It to the ground.

Selma was too dazed by the pain and trauma to acknowledge what was happening as It crawled over her and began taking pieces of her away, piecemeal.

Somewhere out there, Ron mewled.