Charity (part 3)
This is the third and final part of 'Charity,' the third creepy story for this October. Hope you have enjoyed the tales.
part one here
part two here
She fascinated me. Everything about her begged me to protect her, and also explore her. When she was a cat, I didn’t hesitate to touch her in areas I wouldn’t have dreamed touching another person. I was keenly aware of that when I stroked her, but I was in the habit of stroking her while I watched TV and I tried so hard not to treat her differently just because she was human. She didn’t seem to see a difference, even if I did.
She was seventeen. She was a minor. She was female. These phrases circled through my head every evening, so every evening she slept with me as a cat. Every morning I woke remembering pleasant dreams of kisses. It was maddening. This evening I planned to ask her to sleep in the other bedroom, yet here I was sitting in near darkness, idly stroking her neck, shoulder, and back as she lay partially across my lap. Naked. She was purring and I was so confused.
The TV shot strange flickers of light at me as I tried to concentrate on the movie. We had turned off the lights to better the mood of the horror movie, but it wasn’t helping. I couldn’t think straight. I suddenly realized the sound had been muted and I watched her put the remote down. She turned in my lap until she faced me, then a slender arm snaked up and fingers tangled themselves in my hair. I didn’t offer much resistance when she pulled my head down toward her lips. Her eyes were just so damn big.
There was a loud wrenching sound of protesting metal and then a crack of glass. It took both of us a second to realize the large crash that followed came from the kitchen. It was the destruction of the sliding glass door.
We both jumped up, but she headed for the area behind the couch while I grabbed up the large coffee table book on old movies and headed for the noise.
I had left my cell phone in the bedroom, unfortunately, and the landline of the house only had phones in the kitchen and my bedroom. I don’t know why I didn’t turn tail for the bedroom so I could call 9-1-1. I guess I was thinking I shouldn’t turn my back on the unknown. I guess I was thinking the book and I could take on anything. I guess I wasn’t thinking.
There was light from the TV, but the TV wasn’t helping. The ‘Thing’ was on, the original one with James Arness as the alien. I made it to the open doorway between the living room and kitchen with the idea that whatever I was facing couldn’t be nearly as big as that actor, and then a figure loomed in front of me and proved me wrong.
It was huge.
I hurled the book like a discus - my old high school track coach would have been proud of my aim - and found the Greeks had a good idea about that kind of weapon. The book hit it in the head area and down it went. I jumped back in the living room and grabbed up another book, preparing for a rematch. It must have followed me, because the next thing I heard was a horrifying yowl of rage from behind the couch.
“Don’t touch her!”
I turned and caught a glimpse of a large man before he shoved me forward. I dropped the book and barely missed hitting the coffee table. Instead I struck carpet, so I tucked and rolled back up into a standing position. By that time she was on him, nails cocked for maximum damage. She drew blood before he could protect himself.
Yes, it was a he, and he was naked.
He caught her neck in one of his large hands and squeezed until she stopped fighting for me and started struggling for breath.
“Change or die,” he growled.
She turned into a cat. I didn’t see it clearly, the TV flickered too much, but it reminded me of a cheesy movie effect, where she simply melted into herself; it was dark, creepy, and surprising. Now she was simply a small animal dangling from his grip: a tiny thing facing something huge. I couldn’t even scream a warning. He was just too fast.
With a grunt he flung his arm out and let go, freeing her in time to let her smash into the wall with stunning force. She was dead before she hit the ground. She never changed back, either. She died as a cat and no one would ever know who she had been, except me.
And the man.
He grinned at me and flipped the switch on the wall, illuminating her death brilliantly. In that moment, I fell back onto the couch in shock, for I knew him. I knew this man.
“Uncle Herman?” Or at least I thought I did.
“It’s easier to deal with the body that way. No one looks twice at a dead animal,” He commented, glancing down at the former girl. He stared at me again. “She was seducing you, you know. Changing you. She would have made a cat out of you. I couldn’t have that.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Legend has it, you change into what you are around when you first physically encounter one of us. I would rather you’re a squirrel, not a cat. Cats are deceptive and destructive. Squirrels are honest and independent.”
I frowned and tried to think. “Were you in my attic two years ago?”
He strode forward and sat on the table so he could face me. This was not the shuffle I remembered. I would not have believed him to be 70. He was as lithe as she had been, only more muscular or athletic. Maybe that was part of the magic: animal-like grace. I don’t know. He was more of an animal, definitely. She had smelled of fabric softener and flowers. He reeked of grass, mildew, and urine. Still, he was in excellent shape despite the gray hair. Unfortunately, I could see all of his hair, and I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t look at parts of him I didn’t want to see. I heard him chuckle as he grabbed up a pillow to cover himself. When I turned back I realized it didn’t help. I looked at the pillow and an angry cat now covered his lap. I started to cry.
“No, no,” he said reassuringly. “I mean, yes, I was in your attic, but it was for good reason. I had to protect you and watch over you. I wanted you to be like me. I knew you would wait, you were always a good girl, but your first sexual encounter will determine what you become. I want it to be right. I’m glad she saved you from that ass the other day, but I couldn’t let her be the one to turn you either. You don’t deserve to be a cat.”
“I don’t understand.” I swallowed hard. “You think I’m like you? Or like her? Some kind of animal? You are human! So was she! She was a minor, for God’s sake! She wasn’t old enough to even know anything! To have hurt anyone! And you killed her!”
He held up a warning finger. “Don’t trust a cat. They can steal your breath and your soul. She was old enough. She’s been deceiving you all along and you know it.”
“She saved my life!”
“Your life or your virginity?” he asked sternly. “A virgin is intoxicating to both sides. Easily influenced and extremely rare for our kind. I saw what she did to you while you were sleeping last night. I knew she would make her move tonight. I don’t want a cat in the family.” His tone was harsh. “I won’t have it.”
Gone was the great uncle who made me laugh and feel loved. This man had murder in his eyes.
“Would you kill me?” I asked in a voice far more calm than it should have been.
“I won’t have to. I’ll change you myself. That way I know you’ll be safe. My gift to you,” He reached forward to touch my cheek in a familiar way, but I drew back. His mouth flattened with irritation. “Don’t fight me on this.”
“I’m not even sure what you’re doing,” I lied.
Uncle Herman grinned at that, but it wasn’t a nice sight. “Extreme emotions: pleasure, anger, fear. You’ll change with any one of them. I was hoping for pleasure,” he said, his eyes taking in the body under my clothes. “As long as I’m with you when you feel it, you’ll be a squirrel like me. That’s how it works.”
“Is that my only choice? Be a squirrel or die?” I started to shake. This was madness.
“Yes. Squirrels or cats are the only options.” He measured the couch mentally and shook his head. “The bed in your room is bigger. More comfortable. More pleasure that way.”
I had never noticed how sharp his teeth were. I did now, when he flashed them at me yet again. His eyes were predatory, too. When he licked his lips with anticipation, my heart started pounding violently.
“You can’t mean it. You wouldn’t.” He leaned forward, hands outstretched. “This is wrong!” I yelled. I slapped away one of his hands. “You can’t do this!”
The pillow fell without him touching it, and he didn’t bother to pick it back up to cover his growing excitement.
“Fear works, too,” he said with a growl.
The first blow knocked me sideways. The second landed me on the floor. I felt him drag me toward the hall and I grabbed at anything and everything to slow him down. He kicked, hit, and hauled me into the bedroom, where he tore off everything I was wearing before throwing me on the mattress.
My mind screamed at me to do something, so I began landing blows of my own. It was a savage fight. At one point I made it to the front door. Things blurred after that.
-*-
I didn’t lie afterwards. I didn’t have to.
A stranger broke into my house, killed my cat, attacked me, and disappeared. The end.
That’s what I told the police when they woke me up in the bushes outside my front door. Great Uncle Herman was a stranger. He had become something I didn’t recognize.
The police covered me with a blanket, took me inside and watched over me compassionately as I sobbed over my cat.
My next-door neighbor came over and screwed plywood over the large hole in my kitchen nook wall right then. He was the one who called the police when he heard all the screaming out in the yard. The owner of the house promised me over the phone he would put in something tomorrow, something far more substantial than sliding glass. By the time I was alone in the guest room early that morning, I had made up my mind about a few things.
My uncle would have raped me and said what he was doing was for my own good, even though he knew better. He would have destroyed me. In my mind, that made him evil, which made the human squirrels evil, far more evil than seductive and deceptive human cats. It was a good thing I hadn’t changed into either one.
-*-
“You should have called me,” my mother said yet again.
It was Halloween. I had the bowl of candy out and the porch light on for visitors. Mom had helped me finish cleaning up the bedroom.
No, I didn’t tell her about Uncle Herman.
“You shouldn’t have had to bury her alone.”
I smiled slightly at her remark, and it hurt to move my facial muscles. I was still battered and bruised enough to look like a reject in a zombie makeup contest. I was a little too green to compete.
“Kelly?” I looked up at her and she patted my shoulder gently. “I’m done. Want to see?” She turned the rock around to show her handiwork with the brush. Along with the name, she had painted a butterfly and a flower.
“It’s a beautiful gravestone, Mom. Thanks.”
We walked out the half-French door to the patio outside the nook. She put the rock on top of the small grave and stepped back to admire both of our efforts. It was a peaceful spot.
“Charity,” she said when she looked over at me. “I like that name. Think you will get another cat?”
“No. I think you were right. I should go for more human relationships now. Charity can be my one and only cat.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. Then she nudged me with her elbow. “You can start with that animal control officer. He’s nice looking and only a few years older than you. Did I mention he was good looking?”
“What animal control officer?” I asked as we stepped inside to await Trick-or-Treat-ers.
“He stopped by here earlier. You were in the bathroom. He was here the other night, too. The police called him out.”
“They did? Why?”
“They thought that man had killed another animal while he was waiting to break into your house.” She sat beside me on the couch and pretended she didn’t hear my groan of pain. “He didn’t. Something else killed the animal.”
“Okay.” Then I frowned. “Was it another cat?”
Had my cat been right? Could squirrels kill cats?
“Oh, no. It was a squirrel, a big grey one. The animal control officer said a large animal got it, probably a canine. Shook it and broke its neck.” She leaned her head against mine. “I’m sorry. I’m bringing up bad things.”
“No, no. It’s okay.” I handed her the remote and let her pick the movie of the evening. “I’m not that fond of squirrels.”
“Neither am I. Oh, I do like Lon Chaney, though. Will this do?” She handed me a pillow, the one without the cat, I noticed.
“This is fine.” I said, leaning against her.
I idly wondered if Great Uncle Herman had been the one screaming when my neighbor called the police. He had been so wrong in his theories, it seemed, all except the one about rage.
“I’ve never seen a large dog around here,” Mom said. “Have you?”
“Nope.”
And, thanks to Charity, I wouldn’t. I knew better than to look into a mirror.
part one here
part two here
She fascinated me. Everything about her begged me to protect her, and also explore her. When she was a cat, I didn’t hesitate to touch her in areas I wouldn’t have dreamed touching another person. I was keenly aware of that when I stroked her, but I was in the habit of stroking her while I watched TV and I tried so hard not to treat her differently just because she was human. She didn’t seem to see a difference, even if I did.
She was seventeen. She was a minor. She was female. These phrases circled through my head every evening, so every evening she slept with me as a cat. Every morning I woke remembering pleasant dreams of kisses. It was maddening. This evening I planned to ask her to sleep in the other bedroom, yet here I was sitting in near darkness, idly stroking her neck, shoulder, and back as she lay partially across my lap. Naked. She was purring and I was so confused.
The TV shot strange flickers of light at me as I tried to concentrate on the movie. We had turned off the lights to better the mood of the horror movie, but it wasn’t helping. I couldn’t think straight. I suddenly realized the sound had been muted and I watched her put the remote down. She turned in my lap until she faced me, then a slender arm snaked up and fingers tangled themselves in my hair. I didn’t offer much resistance when she pulled my head down toward her lips. Her eyes were just so damn big.
There was a loud wrenching sound of protesting metal and then a crack of glass. It took both of us a second to realize the large crash that followed came from the kitchen. It was the destruction of the sliding glass door.
We both jumped up, but she headed for the area behind the couch while I grabbed up the large coffee table book on old movies and headed for the noise.
I had left my cell phone in the bedroom, unfortunately, and the landline of the house only had phones in the kitchen and my bedroom. I don’t know why I didn’t turn tail for the bedroom so I could call 9-1-1. I guess I was thinking I shouldn’t turn my back on the unknown. I guess I was thinking the book and I could take on anything. I guess I wasn’t thinking.
There was light from the TV, but the TV wasn’t helping. The ‘Thing’ was on, the original one with James Arness as the alien. I made it to the open doorway between the living room and kitchen with the idea that whatever I was facing couldn’t be nearly as big as that actor, and then a figure loomed in front of me and proved me wrong.
It was huge.
I hurled the book like a discus - my old high school track coach would have been proud of my aim - and found the Greeks had a good idea about that kind of weapon. The book hit it in the head area and down it went. I jumped back in the living room and grabbed up another book, preparing for a rematch. It must have followed me, because the next thing I heard was a horrifying yowl of rage from behind the couch.
“Don’t touch her!”
I turned and caught a glimpse of a large man before he shoved me forward. I dropped the book and barely missed hitting the coffee table. Instead I struck carpet, so I tucked and rolled back up into a standing position. By that time she was on him, nails cocked for maximum damage. She drew blood before he could protect himself.
Yes, it was a he, and he was naked.
He caught her neck in one of his large hands and squeezed until she stopped fighting for me and started struggling for breath.
“Change or die,” he growled.
She turned into a cat. I didn’t see it clearly, the TV flickered too much, but it reminded me of a cheesy movie effect, where she simply melted into herself; it was dark, creepy, and surprising. Now she was simply a small animal dangling from his grip: a tiny thing facing something huge. I couldn’t even scream a warning. He was just too fast.
With a grunt he flung his arm out and let go, freeing her in time to let her smash into the wall with stunning force. She was dead before she hit the ground. She never changed back, either. She died as a cat and no one would ever know who she had been, except me.
And the man.
He grinned at me and flipped the switch on the wall, illuminating her death brilliantly. In that moment, I fell back onto the couch in shock, for I knew him. I knew this man.
“Uncle Herman?” Or at least I thought I did.
“It’s easier to deal with the body that way. No one looks twice at a dead animal,” He commented, glancing down at the former girl. He stared at me again. “She was seducing you, you know. Changing you. She would have made a cat out of you. I couldn’t have that.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Legend has it, you change into what you are around when you first physically encounter one of us. I would rather you’re a squirrel, not a cat. Cats are deceptive and destructive. Squirrels are honest and independent.”
I frowned and tried to think. “Were you in my attic two years ago?”
He strode forward and sat on the table so he could face me. This was not the shuffle I remembered. I would not have believed him to be 70. He was as lithe as she had been, only more muscular or athletic. Maybe that was part of the magic: animal-like grace. I don’t know. He was more of an animal, definitely. She had smelled of fabric softener and flowers. He reeked of grass, mildew, and urine. Still, he was in excellent shape despite the gray hair. Unfortunately, I could see all of his hair, and I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t look at parts of him I didn’t want to see. I heard him chuckle as he grabbed up a pillow to cover himself. When I turned back I realized it didn’t help. I looked at the pillow and an angry cat now covered his lap. I started to cry.
“No, no,” he said reassuringly. “I mean, yes, I was in your attic, but it was for good reason. I had to protect you and watch over you. I wanted you to be like me. I knew you would wait, you were always a good girl, but your first sexual encounter will determine what you become. I want it to be right. I’m glad she saved you from that ass the other day, but I couldn’t let her be the one to turn you either. You don’t deserve to be a cat.”
“I don’t understand.” I swallowed hard. “You think I’m like you? Or like her? Some kind of animal? You are human! So was she! She was a minor, for God’s sake! She wasn’t old enough to even know anything! To have hurt anyone! And you killed her!”
He held up a warning finger. “Don’t trust a cat. They can steal your breath and your soul. She was old enough. She’s been deceiving you all along and you know it.”
“She saved my life!”
“Your life or your virginity?” he asked sternly. “A virgin is intoxicating to both sides. Easily influenced and extremely rare for our kind. I saw what she did to you while you were sleeping last night. I knew she would make her move tonight. I don’t want a cat in the family.” His tone was harsh. “I won’t have it.”
Gone was the great uncle who made me laugh and feel loved. This man had murder in his eyes.
“Would you kill me?” I asked in a voice far more calm than it should have been.
“I won’t have to. I’ll change you myself. That way I know you’ll be safe. My gift to you,” He reached forward to touch my cheek in a familiar way, but I drew back. His mouth flattened with irritation. “Don’t fight me on this.”
“I’m not even sure what you’re doing,” I lied.
Uncle Herman grinned at that, but it wasn’t a nice sight. “Extreme emotions: pleasure, anger, fear. You’ll change with any one of them. I was hoping for pleasure,” he said, his eyes taking in the body under my clothes. “As long as I’m with you when you feel it, you’ll be a squirrel like me. That’s how it works.”
“Is that my only choice? Be a squirrel or die?” I started to shake. This was madness.
“Yes. Squirrels or cats are the only options.” He measured the couch mentally and shook his head. “The bed in your room is bigger. More comfortable. More pleasure that way.”
I had never noticed how sharp his teeth were. I did now, when he flashed them at me yet again. His eyes were predatory, too. When he licked his lips with anticipation, my heart started pounding violently.
“You can’t mean it. You wouldn’t.” He leaned forward, hands outstretched. “This is wrong!” I yelled. I slapped away one of his hands. “You can’t do this!”
The pillow fell without him touching it, and he didn’t bother to pick it back up to cover his growing excitement.
“Fear works, too,” he said with a growl.
The first blow knocked me sideways. The second landed me on the floor. I felt him drag me toward the hall and I grabbed at anything and everything to slow him down. He kicked, hit, and hauled me into the bedroom, where he tore off everything I was wearing before throwing me on the mattress.
My mind screamed at me to do something, so I began landing blows of my own. It was a savage fight. At one point I made it to the front door. Things blurred after that.
-*-
I didn’t lie afterwards. I didn’t have to.
A stranger broke into my house, killed my cat, attacked me, and disappeared. The end.
That’s what I told the police when they woke me up in the bushes outside my front door. Great Uncle Herman was a stranger. He had become something I didn’t recognize.
The police covered me with a blanket, took me inside and watched over me compassionately as I sobbed over my cat.
My next-door neighbor came over and screwed plywood over the large hole in my kitchen nook wall right then. He was the one who called the police when he heard all the screaming out in the yard. The owner of the house promised me over the phone he would put in something tomorrow, something far more substantial than sliding glass. By the time I was alone in the guest room early that morning, I had made up my mind about a few things.
My uncle would have raped me and said what he was doing was for my own good, even though he knew better. He would have destroyed me. In my mind, that made him evil, which made the human squirrels evil, far more evil than seductive and deceptive human cats. It was a good thing I hadn’t changed into either one.
-*-
“You should have called me,” my mother said yet again.
It was Halloween. I had the bowl of candy out and the porch light on for visitors. Mom had helped me finish cleaning up the bedroom.
No, I didn’t tell her about Uncle Herman.
“You shouldn’t have had to bury her alone.”
I smiled slightly at her remark, and it hurt to move my facial muscles. I was still battered and bruised enough to look like a reject in a zombie makeup contest. I was a little too green to compete.
“Kelly?” I looked up at her and she patted my shoulder gently. “I’m done. Want to see?” She turned the rock around to show her handiwork with the brush. Along with the name, she had painted a butterfly and a flower.
“It’s a beautiful gravestone, Mom. Thanks.”
We walked out the half-French door to the patio outside the nook. She put the rock on top of the small grave and stepped back to admire both of our efforts. It was a peaceful spot.
“Charity,” she said when she looked over at me. “I like that name. Think you will get another cat?”
“No. I think you were right. I should go for more human relationships now. Charity can be my one and only cat.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. Then she nudged me with her elbow. “You can start with that animal control officer. He’s nice looking and only a few years older than you. Did I mention he was good looking?”
“What animal control officer?” I asked as we stepped inside to await Trick-or-Treat-ers.
“He stopped by here earlier. You were in the bathroom. He was here the other night, too. The police called him out.”
“They did? Why?”
“They thought that man had killed another animal while he was waiting to break into your house.” She sat beside me on the couch and pretended she didn’t hear my groan of pain. “He didn’t. Something else killed the animal.”
“Okay.” Then I frowned. “Was it another cat?”
Had my cat been right? Could squirrels kill cats?
“Oh, no. It was a squirrel, a big grey one. The animal control officer said a large animal got it, probably a canine. Shook it and broke its neck.” She leaned her head against mine. “I’m sorry. I’m bringing up bad things.”
“No, no. It’s okay.” I handed her the remote and let her pick the movie of the evening. “I’m not that fond of squirrels.”
“Neither am I. Oh, I do like Lon Chaney, though. Will this do?” She handed me a pillow, the one without the cat, I noticed.
“This is fine.” I said, leaning against her.
I idly wondered if Great Uncle Herman had been the one screaming when my neighbor called the police. He had been so wrong in his theories, it seemed, all except the one about rage.
“I’ve never seen a large dog around here,” Mom said. “Have you?”
“Nope.”
And, thanks to Charity, I wouldn’t. I knew better than to look into a mirror.