The Straw Kitten
Here's a story I wrote a while ago about a girl with an anthropomorphic, esper golem. I composed it to try to go for a sense of creeping horror, but keep it fairy tale in the style of oldschool Grimm. While there's nothing particularly objectionable in it, it is meant to be scary, but is based on my own approach to finding comfort in difficult situations.
once there was a girl
who had a pet; a kitten
it rode on her shoulder
and was made of straw
they went everywhere together
this is their story
Prelude
A girl without a friend.
Poor, with no pet to play with.
Make me yours! And I'll be there for you!
Once upon a time, there lived a girl who had no friends. She was the daughter of a farmer, and of a seamstress, but was interested in neither skill very much at all.
Once her father took her to the fields to show her his work, with his scythe and the sun. But all she did was sit, and stare at the grass and the flowers blankly, never speaking, never moving, to help or hinder.
And he lead her home, in despair.
Once her mother took her to sew, to show her the way of mending. But the girl too did nothing; she took the needle and thread into her hands when it was pressed upon her, but just sat and stared at them, never making a single stitch.
And her mother brought her back to their hovel, shaking her head in despair.
The girl grew slowly, reaching the age to be married away as a blossom of which the like had not been seen for many years in the land, but her parents could not find anyone who she seemed to like, or anyone who they liked, and she remained alone.
And sometimes silently cried herself to sleep.
One day, she asked her parents for a gift. A pet to be friends with.
But as they were so poor, they had nothing.
Her father brought her some straw from the field and told her to be quiet.
Her mother brought her a piece of rough burlap and told her to stay out of trouble.
She sat for a long time looking at the two things.
Then took out the needle and the thread she had saved from long ago.
Then made herself a pet.
THE STRAW KITTEN
Sami Deveraux, Vulpine
Chapter 1
A friend without a face or voice.
Whispering to you silently.
Listen to me, and hear me! I shall speak!
The straw kitten didn't have eyes, or even a face.
It was barely a kitten shape, just a piece of burlap stuffed with straw, and sewn in places, its stitches crooked and large.
But it belonged to the girl. And it was hers.
And she held it close, even though it wasn't very soft.
And said. "I wish that you were a real kitten, straw kitten, kitten."
In fact, it was very scratchy. And the girl made a face as she held it, and set it back down on the sleeping mat next to her.
During the night, while she was asleep, it almost felt as if the little straw kitten were moving.
The next day she woke up with red marks on her arm and the side of her face, where she was hugging the burlap shape close.
"Ouch," she said, and sat up, rubbing her eyes.
The day was long, and dull, but she had the straw kitten for company. It was very quiet, and just sat next to her as she repeated her lessons, but it was much better, the girl said to herself, to have a pet than not, and a straw kitten was really better than a real one, because it never got hungry, and it didn't need milk. She never had milk; it was too expensive.
"Mew," came a scratchy, rough sound, almost too quiet to hear.
The girl listened closely.
"Mew!" There it was again!
It was coming from the straw kitten!
"Is that you?" The girl didn't believe it at first. She leaned closer to the little burlap pouch.
But at that moment, her parents returned, and her straw kitten lay still and silent again.
The next day, she woke up again with red marks on her arm and cheek, holding her pet close against her, though she had fallen asleep without picking it up.
This time, she put it on the ground in front of her, and sat cross legged staring at it.
"Dear Kitten," she said after a while.
It didn't move.
"My Kitten?" the girl repeated.
It still didn't move.
Outside, a flock of birds flew by, cawing darkly.
And she wasn't sure, but it seemed almost as if the little pet was moving, drawing into itself.
It was still silent, though.
"Straw Kitten?" She asked hesitantly at last.
There was a long pause.
Then a cold, rustling voice came out of her pet.
"M..ew..."
It had spoken!
But then, her parents came back again, and the kitten fell silent.
They were whispering to each other excitedly, but cautiously, and became quiet as they came into the room.
"My kitten! It talks!" the girl said to them.
They glanced at the inanimate bit of burlap stuffed with straw, and shook their heads, looking a little worried, but they hid it well, and the girl suspected nothing.
And Straw Kitten lay still. Straw Kitten lay silent.
With a sigh and a shrug her parents called her to the table.
"It's dinnertime, child. Come and eat."
Chapter 2
The kitten speaks once more.
Please, let me help you.
Don't wait!
Another day came to a close.
Another night dawned and rose.
The girl slept, but fitfully. In her dream, she was running away from something, a pillar of feverish heat, that burned to the touch. But her kitten was with her, and the scratches she got from hugging it close were almost a soothing salve afterwards.
The next morning, she woke slowly, holding her shapeless pet tightly, red marks on her arm and cheek.
Both her parents had gone out, leaving her alone in their hovel again.
"Dear kitten," she talked to her pet, holding it.
She could almost hear the straw rustle in answer, and it shook a little in her hands.
"M..ew..." The kitten whispered, like the rustle of dead leaves in the grass.
She leaned a little closer.
"Mew..." It said again, a little clearer.
"You can talk!" She exclaimed.
"N..o..." the straw creature hissed.
The girl blinked several times at this apparent contradiction, but the kitten continued.
"... No." There was another pause, then the rustling came again.
"... You ... can ... listen," it finished slowly.
The straw kitten rustled slightly, shifting its place, turning a little. It wasn't clear what difference this made to the little shapeless thing, because the sound came out of it all at once, quiet and omnipresent.
"Do... you..." It began, then was interrupted by a growl from the girl's stomach.
She looked mortified, but in truth was very hungry.
There was a long silence.
Then the rustling began again.
"This... is... not... right..." hissed the little creature.
"Kitten," the girl began, apologetically.
"I... can... help..." the scratchy little voice came. "Flowers..."
"Flowers," the girl echoed, then she took her cloak and went out to the field.
Her father was usually there, cutting the grass, and laying it out for the sun to make straw. But today he was nowhere to be seen.
The girl kept her eyes downcast, and picked from each little bunch of flowers as she came to it. One of blue forget-me-nots, one of periwinkles, a large bunch of yellow dandelions. She wandered further, coming to the edge of the river, where the spotted water lilies grew blue-black on the banks of yellow-striped stones.
But the water lilies were cold, and wet, so she made her way back home quickly, following the edge of the forest until she heard the voice of her father from a little ways ahead. She walked a little slower, ashamed for the mud that had gotten on her feet, and came up to the head of the path leading towards the nearby town without being observed.
"Then we have an agreement," said a tall figure in a gold-embroidered cloak. He reached into his clothes, and removed a heavy looking purse. As he handed it across, then moved along the path, walking away, she saw it was her father that the strange man was speaking to, and that her father's hands shook as he held the gift.
"Thank you, sir!" her father called after the man, and she scurried past the open space behind them, running quiet as a mouse back to their hovel.
Her pet was just where she left it, laying on the floor, a little straw sticking out of her pet's rough burlap body, which shivered as she approached.
"Flowers..." it rustled.
"Here they are," said the girl, and she laid them out in bunches, the forget-me-nots, the periwinkles, the dandelions, and the few, soggy water lilies, their long roots laying on the dirt floor like the craggy brownish fingers of the grandmother the girl never knew.
The pet moved slowly, not moving from its place, but turning almost completely around before once more sitting still.
It was quiet and still for so long, the girl almost thought she had fallen asleep.
But suddenly, the room was filled with a flickering light, and the girl started up, but it was already as dim as ever again.
"Yes..." hissed the straw kitten quietly.
There were still the forget-me-nots, and periwinkles, and the midnight waterlillies. But where the dandelions had sat, there was only a pile of fine gray ash.
Then there was a shadow at the door, for her father had come in, though without the purse she had seen him take.
And the straw kitten was still and silent.
Chapter 3
Marry her? (he said) I shall!
Save us, she wished.
I will!
They were all sitting around the table with their bowls of gruel.
Her father and mother kept looking at each other, then at the girl.
She was sitting with her dish in front of her, the shapeless mass of her pet safe in her lap as she looked into the bowl, waiting for them to start eating so she could too.
Her stomach growled again, making a gurgling noise.
And it almost seemed that the straw kitten was about to speak, but while it was gathering herself, her parents began first.
"Dearest daughter," her mother began.
"Light of our life," her father continued.
"You know we are very poor," her mother went on.
"Very, with only mush to eat," her father said in turn.
"It's best for you if you marry," her mother argued.
"Best for us if you do," her father says.
"You do not help me at my work," the mother said with a sigh.
"And you're not suited for work in the field," her father replied.
"Not suited," the two parents shared a sad look.
"There is a man who wants your hand," her father explained.
"He's quite rich," her mother nodded.
"He'll take care of you," her father sounded concerned.
Her two parents exchanged a look that seemed to say "and us." But said nothing more.
There was a long silence. The girl's stomach growled again.
"I ... don't want to. Who is he?" the girl said at last.
There was another long silence.
A pause of shocked surprise; her parents had never thought she would speak.
After another growl, they spoke again.
"Please," her mother said.
"Do," her father said.
The girl shook her head.
And her parents looked pained, but said nothing more.
The girl's stomach growled again, even though the food didn't smell very good.
And this seemed to be a reason for her parents to talk again.
"You must," her father insisted.
"Really," her mother added.
"Please," the girl begged.
But her parents were silent again. Though they exchanged another glance filled with quiet agony.
Her stomach wasn't. It growled louder.
The girl wasn't sure, but it was almost as if her pet was growling too, though so quietly she could only feel it, not hear.
"The wedding is tomorrow," her father said at last.
"We will take you there," her mother said, with finality.
She felt like she wanted to cry, but her tears weren't there, and her cheeks were as dry as the straw that filled her only friend.
And they ate their gruel in silence.
Chapter 4
Don't forget me!
Take me with you!
I'll never forget you, my only friend.
The wedding day came, and the girl woke with red marks on her cheek. Not from crying, for she hadn't cried since she found her friend. The marks were from where the rough straw stuck through his burlap body, for she had held him close through the night, while her parents kept guard outside the door, one sleeping, one half-watchful, so she couldn't run away.
She woke, and rose.
"They brought you these in the night," her mother said, and gave her clothes to wear, clothes so shiny and amazing that she had never seen the like before. But they might have been made of sack-cloth, for she wanted them not. Her mother took one look, then left, weeping.
It took a long time for the girl to put them on by herself, and they didn't quite fit, for there was more room in the chest than her slight figure provided.
"Hurry," came the voice of her father from outside. "The coach has come, to take you to your husband's door."
There was a rattling hiss from just behind her, and the girl turned, and looked to see her only friend had dragged himself across from her bedroll to rest at her feet.
"T...ake... me... too..." it hissed almost silently.
The girl quickly undid the clasp at her neck, and slid the straw kitten into her slip, where it nestled uncomfortably.
the girl took the straw kitten to the wedding
the king wore yellow
"You must hurry!" her father came into the room, and took her outside, where the carriage waited. It was drawn by two horses, dappled gray and white, and the inside was made of the softest silk. But the face of the driver was ugly to the girl, and when she was put inside the carriage there was the crack of a bolt being thrown outside.
They sped along, and she looked through the window as the forest passed in a blur.
Presently, they rose up a hill, and she saw the village that she remembered visiting occasionally with her mother before it became clear that she would never be a seamstress.
And it ran on further, the dirt of the road turning into the cobble stones of the road, and the cobble stones of the road running together into bricks, and the clop-clop of the horses' hooves ran together like the bubble of the river running near her home. Like the scrabbly whisper of her only friend.
You'll never need to worry again.
Never again.
I promise.
And she slept.
The coach only came to a stop a very long time later, for it was already evening when it arrived at the tall, silver roofed building, the house which begged to be her future home. And the kersnack! of the bolt in the door being thrown did not wake her.
In fact, she only woke when the coachman called with his rough voice.
"Miss." It was like gravel tumbling over itself. "Miss."
"We're here."
She opened her eyes, and felt the familiar scratch of her pet upon her bosom.
"Help me," she begged the coachman, and he looked like he was in pain, and stepped aside.
"I see you've arrived," Came a deep, familiar voice. It came from a tall man, dressed all in gold and silver trimmed linen.
The one from the forest!
"Come," he said quietly, and offered her his gloved hand. She took it hesitantly, for there was no other thing she could do.
he burned
He quickly lead her into the house, explaining as he went. "Here's my kitchen, and my dining room. This hall leads to my study. And my bedroom is up these stairs. The priest is waiting." Everything was in rich, dark wood, the likes she had only seen faint echoes in the simple furniture she had at home.
They went down a long, brightly lit hall decorated with many candles in silver sticks, all lit. It would've been very festive, under other circumstances.
"When I say 'I do,' repeat it. Then you'll be my wife." He said, then opened a tall door, and they entered a hall. Inside it, she saw no one familiar, though it was crowded by people dressed like to the one who held her hand so firmly.
And there was a soft applause as he lead her to the head of the room, where a solemn looking man dressed in inky black held a book close.
She stood in confusion as the priest read the ceremony, shifting uncomfortably, every slight movement bringing a little prick! from the straw kitten hidden inside her slip.
She listened hard, but not to what the priest said, and watched the proceedings as if they were from a dream.
Finally, everyone was quiet, and all eyes turned to her.
"I do," repeated the regal man.
She just looked at him.
"I do," he said again, coldly.
She could only stare, stock still, lifting her hand up to rest upon her breast, where her only friend was hidden.
"N...o..." she said almost inaudibly, and saw a flash of anger on the tall man's eyes.
He stood and waited, and the priest looked confused.
"You... do," the man hissed between his teeth.
There was a great silence in the room.
Then she felt the shape inside her shift slowly begin to turn.
"...No!" She said a little louder.
The priest moved as if to speak, but the man gestured for silence.
"She does," he said callously, and waved for the priest to go on.
There was a faint rustling from inside her dress, then stillness, and she closed her eyes.
a flash of light, and heat
END
Epilogue
I'll never turn away from you
I'll always watch whatever you do
Never fear, for I am here with you
Together, the world will get it's due
now its much later
the girl is in a tavern far from her home
the girl wears a welding mask to protect her from the flames
the girl wears a leather jacket to protect her from the scratchy straw kitten
the girl and the kitten are closer than ever
it always is on her shoulder
and she is always listening to its whisper