Marie Aldwell's Cats (616 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Ballare (View user info) at 2007-05-02 22:20:39 EDT
Marie Aldwell's cats were infamous creatures in the sleepy town of St. Marlin.
They were lean, skulking animals; their ribs jutted out when they lurched along the fence line and their tails lashed viciously when they crouched to the ground, stalking mice and voles and other things among the grass. They were a pale, more or less dusky gray colour, with long feathery hair that was never matted nor dirty nor mussed, and had wide, peculiar yellow eyes.
Among general population, they were referred to as 'them two cats' - no more explanation was required. They were simply them two cats that was a menace. A menace, it was whispered, to all the children (as even toddlers, delighted to inflict their sticky fingers upon the fur of any four-legged beast, shied away from their stony-eyed glare and permanent Cheshire grin), and a menace to the other, more satisfactory, household pets. Yes, it was the consensus they were a menace to the town in general, for no real reason apart that they were so damn weird, them things, always prowlin' around and starin' in windows and such things.
The old man that lived in the shack down Brambleberry Road even took it as far to shoot unsteadily at them with a pump-action shotgun when they came near. He muttered drunken curses at them and crossed himself and rocked as they strolled by, waving their lank banner tails.
Demons, he spat at them, fiends!
The cats, of course, (as cats are wont to do) ignored him.
Marie herself rather enjoyed their company during the daytimes, although at night she left them to their own affairs. She enjoyed their soft purring; she enjoyed the feel of their lush fur under her own bony fingers. Every morning when the grandfather clock showed 8:05, she placed a dish of cream on the floor, holding no truck with the new science that claimed it was "bad for them", and creakily bent to stroke their arched, gaunt backs.
And sometimes - although very infrequently - they would bring her small gifts, offerings captured and tortured and distressed, still alive: little struggling vermin that squeaked and shrilled as Marie picked them up by the tails and gazed at their beady black little eyes. The cats would sit, tails flourishing with satisfaction, waiting.
Sometimes, when the grandfather clock showed 8:05, the dish she placed on the floor sloshed crimson red liquid on to the tiles as the cats eagerly lapped it up.
Oh lovies, she would croon, you are a delight to old Marie. I don't know what I shall do without you. Whoever will listen to an old woman's ramblings, and keep me company when I'm lonely?
She had even tenderly named them, blessing them as Phobos and Deimos - her own private joke, you see.
Surprisingly, Marie Aldwell herself, despite all her efforts, was not a particularly venerated member of the community. This was not, perhaps, facilitated by them two cats, but at every St. Marlin Society dinner she was present with her renowned boiled ribs; at every bake sale she brought her legendary lady finger cookies. She fairly glowed with charitable spirit as she portioned out a serving for all the eager residents - it was the general consensus that, while her smile was a little too wide and her hands a little too strong, she certainly made good ribs.
And so, as the St. Marlin Society as a whole could find no other use for her benevolent soul, it was that every so often - although very infrequently - a frayed and tatter man or woman would arrive at her door. They were distressed and unhappy, but still alive: beleaguered undesirables that Marie gently took by the arm and led inside her house, offering reassuring words and promising a warm bath and a place to stay.
Come with me, dear, she would murmur kindly. You must come in. I will wash your clothes and you must stay for dinner.
She would guide them up the stairs, cautioning them against the second stair from the top - it creaked at night, and was slightly too narrow, and skewed backward, so the foot tended to slip. Simply a quirk of the ancient building, she would add with a wrinkled smile as the cats flowed up the steps behind her.
Their room was always that directly across from the stairwell. It was the immaculate guest room; complete with frilled doilies and crisp white sheets - she made a point of hand washing them thoroughly and laying them out on the line after every caller, so that the linens were always, as she would say with decorous grace, fresh as a daisy.
She would modestly close the door, saying they might find spare clothes in the closet, and ask that they simply bring their old garments downstairs with them when they were ready to eat.
When Marie descended the stairs, the cats remained, an unrequested sentinel at the door. They would sit patiently: angular heads low, ears flattened to their skulls, haunches raised high.
Perhaps it was simply because they were territorial creatures of habit, or - admittedly less likely - pleasantly affable, but when the door to the guest room opened, they would gaze expectantly upward at the guest, nimble tails lashing. Simultaneously, they would rise to slender legs and pause as the visitor headed towards the stairs.
Marie rarely heard anything but a sharp, shrill shriek as the lithe creatures tripped up the guest on the nefarious second step. The unmistakable thump of a body on the landing brought a pursed smile to her pale, wrinkled lips.
Returning from the kitchen, brushing her hands off on her spotless white apron, she would wink a conspiratorial wink down at two pairs of peculiar yellow eyes.
Darlings, I don't know what I shall do without you, she would whisper, bending creakily to stroke their arched, gaunt backs.
Invariably, the morning after Marie entertained one of her guests - when the grandfather clock showed 8:05 - the dish she placed on the floor sloshed crimson red liquid on to the tiles as the cats eagerly lapped it up.
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More of Marie Aldwell: http://www.ubersite.com/m/94980
User Reviews
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2007-08-14 14:29:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2007-05-14 15:42:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-05-14 14:02:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I didn't like your subject matter.
But you have great imagery.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-05-14 12:24:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by sir_cowman (user info) at 2007-05-13 22:31:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 even though I didn't like it as much as some of your other things.
Submitted by Falafel (user info) at 2007-05-03 22:56:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wicked imagery... you need to write more.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-05-03 21:06:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by DirtyHarry (user info) at 2007-05-03 17:45:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very good.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2007-05-03 17:12:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Creepy things, cats are.
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-05-03 08:59:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-05-03 02:42:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You're pretty good, huh?
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It's an on-and-off thing.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-05-03 05:18:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Auto +2 evil cats
Also, I like your writing style with it's curious mix of Southern Deviltry...
Good Stuff.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-05-03 02:42:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You're pretty good, huh?
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2007-05-02 22:24:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 pussy