The Cat at the Door

A fine, wealthy Victorian woman kissed her beloved purebred Persian before placing it down besides her companion on a plush pillow.

“Mother shall be returning soon, loves. Miss me!”


She was on a long trip to a fancy ball, leaving her precious, recently purchased animals with her young nephew. In the dream of becoming a professional breeder of the most luxurious of felines, the Persian queens were perfection incarnate.

Previously she had sent an envelope to her young nephew ordering him to come care for the cats. Her sister’s family had a cat, didn’t they? She wouldn’t want to waste any of her borrowed money; that would be imprudent and disrespectful.

She saw him dismount and unpack from the window, then opened the door to greet him.

“Thank you, darling. I’ll be back at nighttime. They’re very gentle but recently they’ve began to become somewhat excessively affectionate. Hopefully their calls won’t bother you too much.”

“Of course not, ma’am.” Yours already did.

Not one to enjoy being forced by blood to work for a silly old spinster and her rascals, he decided he’d complete a compelling novel while the lazy creatures lulled around.

As he sat to read, the Persians began to roughly rub at his legs, vexingly yowling.

“Even Old Edward had the decency to keep to himself,” he thought.

Suddenly he heard a noise at the door. A scratching sound on old ebony, another wailing cat clawing to get in.


Why hadn’t that inept old woman told him she’d let one out? After he opened the door a large orange tomcat immediately burst in and walked around as if he owned the place. Finding the trio too loud, he laid down some water and food before hurrying upstairs to finally finish A Study in Scarlet. He did his best to ignore the uproar as he concentrated. Eventually it dissipated.

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She had met a dashing young gentleman at the ball. Though she had only come to converse with her friends, she supposed she had some residual beauty left from her youth. It had been a long time since a man had introduced himself to her, and she welcomed his embrace. He even offered to escort her a distance after the event had ended!

As she walked alone on the streets, she luckily met a friend from the ball. Primping herself before conservation, she noticed her necklace was missing.

Are you sure you hadn’t seen it on the floor anywhere? We should go back; it was fairly expensive.

What about that fellow you were speaking with? Do you think he…

No… no… Can you believe it, Marian?! He told me he was the son of a doctor! A doctor!

They held their disappointment. At least she would come home to her appreciative true loves, not some charlatan thief. She decided to brighten her mood for her nephew.

Consumed by the book, he was both sad and stirred as the doorbell interrupted Holmes’s impeccable deduction. He rushed down in fear of what had happened in his absence.

Wiping his brow in relief, he found the two queens sleeping contently while the tom waited in front of the door.

“I suppose at least one of them has some amount of loyalty.”

“I’m home, Charles! One of my acquaintances explained to me that my ladies were simply in heat. How were they- Awhh!”

Cut short, the tomcat dashed out the door.

“Charles, what was that worthless stray doing in my house, WITH MY PRINCESSES?!”

In heat? But Old Edward loves the outdoors…

The Black Decree

Welcome to the Black Decree.

This is not a location of happiness or politesse. It is the sole territory of the intellectual, reserved for the virtuous and formidable. Those who are unable to acknowledge and learn render themselves inept in tortured lives.

The Black Decree does not exist to convert such poisonous, cold lead into golden warmth; it exists to assist and acceleratively advance the already vigilant and perceptive.

Its mission is to ultimately eradicate the scourge of oblivion through the progression of lucid deliberation and sterling action within the pure youth and cognizant adults of the Western world.


Bless, The Black Decree