Ok then, something different now from my work on the 'The War Game'. As it is near Halloween, I had this idea of this story in my head for a little while and I've wondered if I should try and do a oneshot just for the occasion. The story also gives me a chance as well to explore a little bit more about Macavity's past in my CATS stories and try a genre that's a little different for me to try out. Still, doesn't hurt from trying something different.
Also, this story is not for the faint hearted so if you don't like the sight of cats having rather unfortunate ends...you might want to look away, but for the rest of you, here we go...
Red Demon
Written by QTXAdsy
Halloween was always an unusual time for the Jellicle cats. Their human owners always seemed to love it, and there seemed to be a more chilling atmosphere round the Junkyard than usual. The tribe didn't really think of it as an event for them to celebrate such as the Jellicle Ball, but Halloween wasn't exactly forgotten about either.
Usually, most of the tribe gathered round at the bottom of the large wheel in the Junkyard to tell each other scary stories, in the hope of frightening everyone else. Munkustrap was said by many to be the master story teller of the tribe and many could hardly wait to hear what new story he'd conjure up for them and many hoped that tonight would be no exception. Unfortunately, the tribe protector had taken a virus of some sort, resulting his human owners to take him to a vet and leaving Alonzo, Munkustrap's second in command, to take on the role of the guardian of the tribe temporally and leaving the clan without their creative storyteller for the night. The other Jellicles had still gathered in the Junkyard that evening regardless, but some were unsure as to the point if it was worth coming over without Munkustrap being here.
Old Deuteronomy had suggested to the tribe for others to try to take it in turn to tell each other stories, which though seemed like a good idea at first, this was easier said than done. Skimbleshanks attempted to tell the story of the ghost train of the West Coast mainline, however it was a story he had told many, many times before and the audience not only knew what to expect from it, some like Tumblebrutus and Rum Tum Tugger were even finishing off sentences for Skimbleshanks, much to the railway cat's annoyance.
After him, Mungojerrie decided to tell a story, which secretly he had decided to wing it and make it up as he went along without even having a clear idea of what it was about. The resulting story in the end proved to be a clumsy and confusing one which by the end of it, not only were the tribe unimpressed by it, they couldn't even remember whatever Mungojerrie had try to tell them at first, though Rumpleteazer, being a good sport, supported her close friend regardless.
Several others had rather subdued results; Pouncival's story in particular was very plain and dull, despite his insistence that it was real. Etcetera actually laughed once, causing the young tom in question to turn red with fury and embarrassment.
Finally after Pouncival had finished his story to a silent audience, Tumblebrutus spoke up: "This is getting boring! If no one is going to tell a decent story I think we should call it a night – this isn't scary at all. Oh, how I wish Munk were here; he'd at least show us all how to tell alright stories."
"Hey! My story was good," Pouncival snapped crossly.
"You told us a story about a cat that nearly got hit by a truck after playing in the flowers in some garden. That's not scary."
"It was scary to me…" Pouncival mumbled as climbed down from the large wheel and took his seat beside Jemima, but no one was paying him any attention; everyone was glaring at Tumblebrutus. Even though admittedly he was correct about how the evening had turned out, he still had no right to put the others down like that, especially at his own littermate just then.
By now, even Old Deuteronomy looked somewhat embarrassed that it had seemed to be a rather wasted evening for all concern, but nonetheless, he still wanted to end the evening on a high note. "Would anyone else like to try and tell a story?"
Everyone else looked ready to give up and go home, then all of a sudden, Plato stood up.
"I'll tell a story, then," he answered as he walked towards the giant wheel to take his place as the storyteller. Others were stunned that Plato, the most unlikely guy to tell a scare story, was going up to make an effort to tell one. Tumblebrutus laughed as his eldest brother climbed up on top of the wheel.
"You? Tell a scary story? Please! You've never told a scary story once in the years I've grown up with you, this is going to be a laugh rather than a scare."
"Just shut up and let him try," Tugger, who was sitting beside Tumblebrutus, interrupted him. The Maine Coon himself had been rather unimpressed all evening and would have rather have Etcetera clamor all over him than listen to yet another fail attempt at a scary story.
The other cats though were interested in hearing Plato's story; anything to make Tumblebrutus quiet again was very much welcomed. They were soon silent, as Plato gazed at them before clearing his throat and began his tale…
XXX
A young adult tom was making his way home back to his tribe one dark evening. The tom (a cream coloured tabby with tiger stripes) was, despite his age, in fact wise beyond his years and was highly regarded by young and old alike by members of his clan. That night, the tom had felt like he was being followed by someone and promptly ran down many side streets to try and loose whoever was following him.
In the confusion, he had ended up in an alleyway he'd never been before and had now gotten lost. Remaining calm, the tom tried to remember his tracks and calmly walk away, with the wishful thinking that the stranger following him had given up on him.
Then, from a dark corner of the alleyway, a voice called out:
"Ah, you're here. Who are you now?"
The tom stopped dead in his tracks and felt his heart stopping dead, the stranger had led him here. Turning round into the direction of the voice, the tom saw emerging from the shadows a large crimson red tom with messy fur, sunken in snakelike eyes and large claws. The large tom gave a wicked grin at the young tom, but rather than run for his life, the tom stood up bravely and also knew for certain whom it was.
"You're Macavity, I take it?" The young tom asked. "I heard that you banished from a nearby tribe and have become a master criminal since then, am I right?"
"Correct," Macavity said quietly. "I asked you a question young tom, and you will answer me. Who are you? You don't seem to be around from these parts."
The young tom kept his calm. "I'm not and I'll thank you if you treat me with a little respect. I'm just trying to find my way home to the eastside of the city and I'll be gone from here."
"Oh, yes you will…" Macavity murmured; the young tom could even smell death from the evil looking feline before him. He turned and tried to leave, but suddenly Macavity rushed forward and blocked his exit. The tom was trapped.
"Let me go, please, I need to get back home; I don't know where I am and I need to get back to my tribe."
"No, I don't think I will…not yet…I've still got things I'd like to tell you about…"
Now the cream tabby was starting to get scared. "I…I really need to get home. I'll come back here and listen some—"
"You'll listen now!" Macavity snapped. "Do you know anything about why I do this for? As you probably guessed, I was in a tribe sometime ago, but some rather unfortunate decisions went against me and I had no choice but to live out on streets. Alone."
"I-I'm sorry to h-hear about that. P-Please l-let me go."
"I said NO!" Macavity's face contorted with anger and his outburst made the young tom fall on his back with the crimson feline towering above him. Quickly as this outburst had happened, his face went back to its calmer state. "I'll admit, I miss my old tribe from time to time, but after how they banished me, I have to make an impact on how to rule this city."
Suddenly, he stretched his arms out wide and bolts of lightning rocketed into the air and illuminated the murky alleyway. "I was born with these powers. I wanted to use these powers for greater use, but my tribe wouldn't let me use them as they thought I was becoming too dangerous. The fools."
"Very impressive powers indeed. Let me go."
"For all my years with these powers, I wanted to use them for other then stupid magic tricks for their entertainment, only after my expulsion, my feelings only grew stronger to use them in a way for one purpose only…"
"Let me go. Move." The tabby was started to get more anxious than ever, knowing somewhere inside of him, he knew what Macavity was planning to do.
"…That purpose? To show that I'll be the ruler of all cats in this city and all will bow to me. Times are changing and you will help in starting this revolution."
"…Through my demise…?"
"Indeed, and I thought nearly all felines in this city were completely stupid. You've proved me wrong. Yes, you'll die to show others what I intend to do, to make them join my cause and what will happen when others even attempt to stand up to me."
"You'll never do it. Every cat in this city will never bow down to you. You might kill me right here, but you'll won't get away with this." The tom tried to sound as brave as he could, though now he was starting to shake with fear as he knew that his fate was now sealed."
"Not if I decide to destroy your own tribe first to make a point after your own passing."
The tabby noticeably paled. "You…you can't…you…you won't!"
"It is unfortunate that we haven't had time to really know each other. But I'll show you…and teach you what pain really feels like...and how it is to be weak and…to beg for death…"
Macavity moved closer to the young tom. His claws ready to strike with the anticipation of evil ready to perform. He was taking such pleasure in watching the tom shiver in fear on the ground and at the fact his life was going to end in such a bloody way. Under his breath, the tom whispered something, Macavity noted him saying a silent pray to the Everlasting cat, which he repeated again many times. "Oh help us great one…save our—"
Without warning, Macavity struck a large bolt of lightning from his claws and struck the tom with such force that it blasted the tom back a few feet. The tabby cried out from intense pain, feeling the cold air whip threw his large, gushing bloody wounds thanks due to the intense magic.
Next, Macavity lunged at the tom's wounds with his claws, making a more massive set of bloody gaps on the tabby's vody. Blood gushed out as the tom screamed; overwhelmed by the sheer agony he was suffering. Then to add even more insult to injury, Macavity, with his claws still embedded in the tom's body, fired more electric lightning through the tom's body that made the tabby scream with extreme pain and torture.
"You see now, don't you, what powerful magic really feels like," he spat, "I can't begin to tell you how wonderful this feels…I feel vindicated for using my powers like this."
But the young tom could barely hear him over his own wails and shrieks of pain and suffering, and the raw gasps of agony the tabby emitted every now and again.
"Your death is necessary to prove my power to all."
Again the crimson feline struck, tearing into the tom's neck and let more blood flow out. The tom wailed long and loud, as he began coughing up blood and felt his own body beginning to betray him and crumble around his own conscious.
"Now, be a good boy, won't you, and beg me for death. Beg me, and I might oblige."
The tom shrieked in pain as Macavity tore into the tom's eyes, blinding him with one deft movement. Surely the pain would end, could end, must end soon? But there seemed to be no relief whatsoever – the cream tabby was going to suffer eternally.
Truly, the tom preferred death now and to be in the Heaviside layer. Anything to escape the hell that he was doomed to suffer through and forever eternal. But there was still that last glimmer of hope and defiance that damned courage and strength that would see the tom through to the end, even though it would be HIS end as well. No, the tabby would go down without defeat. The tom would lose without losing.
"… n-n… nev… never." The tom sighed wearily, smirking in spite of the pain at Macavity's face contorting to one of rage.
"Very well, then. So be it – let's keep going."
Macavity then tugged hard at the tom's neck and fired various bolts of lightning through his body, making the tom disabled and limp. The pain was so intense that the tom actually did faint for a few minutes; when he next awoke, he would've been lucky to be blind in that moment as his body looked more like a rotten, bloody corpse. The young cream tabby felt nothing; it was doubtful that he would ever feel or see anything again. Being grateful for not seeing that the Mystery cat took great pleasure in ruining the tom's body even more, the tom was given a brief reprieve.
Until the malicious tom returned to him, and without warning brought his claws down upon the dying tom's chest, ripping it severely open and then exposing more of his body; the tabby immediately remembered what pain felt like, and it was significantly worse than he remembered.
"You may destroy me red demon…but never my spirit!" The tom called defiantly with all the strength he had as Macavity violently brought his claws against his face; several teeth flew across the alleyway, lost forever in the pile of blood that was growing ever larger as the tom seem to grew smaller and weaker.
"You obviously still haven't learned your lesson yet. I'll fix that NOW!" Macavity shrieked maniacally, and with one huge effort he grabbed the tabby's neck up raising him up from the ground; only a matter of time until death would arrive on swift wings for the tom.
The tom was now completely paralyzed from the severed beating; blood gushed out of his mouth and down his decaying body as he struggled to speak and breathe. Death was imminent, and its servant was ruthless in finishing the job.
Still the tom tried to stay alive minute by minute, as Macavity kept up his work. The tom's heart was next to be attacked; the blood flowing from his mouth muffled this time the tom's cries. Now only capable of grunting and moaning, the tom made a terrible noise when Macavity grabbed his exposed heart, he began squeezing it and placing his claws within it. The amount of blood loss from the tom had been so terrible that the young tabby seemed to be completely spent.
Blind, dumb, and nearly dead, the bloody tabby tried to speak one last time. "A-harg-aough-ararah," he gurgled, spraying the ground with the last remains of his blood and dribbling down his chin. No one would know what the tabby said; it wasn't likely that the tom himself even knew what he spoke, so damaged was he mentally and physically. Struggling to breathe, he suddenly began to gargle and vomit more copious amounts of blood, regurgitating his life's fluids in a vain, desperate attempt to regain his life for a few moments more.
Finally, Macavity still holding the tom in his grasp, watching him vomit and attempt to breathe with interest. After a few minutes, he decided that it was enough. Now was the time to finish what he started, and destroy dammed tabby once and for all. With one claw on the tom's neck and the other on the tom's heart, Macavity began firing more deadly magic through the tom's wounds as he held on, clamping the tabby tighter and tighter. The young tom was nearly blue with lack of air and blood, still gargling pathetically and trying to vomit his way back to life.
Then, with one final blast of lightning, Macavity fired through the cream tabby and tore the tom's heart out of his body, finishing off the tom and holding the bloody heart above him while dropping the corpse to the ground. The tom's life now truly finished. The tabby had stopped vomiting, going a dull shade of white. Its eyes rolled slowly back, its breathing now stopped. With one final effort, the tom managed to spit at the menacing demon towering over him, before finally becoming silent and still.
During that moment, unknown to the both of them, a similarly aged tom, a white and brown patched tom had saw the whole turn of events from the shadows, being in the wrong place at the wrong time and being horrified wasn't even enough to say how this tom truly felt. Blinded with tears at what evil he had witnessed, he ran out of sight as far as he could and back to his own tribe.
Macavity smirked evilly; despite the tom's resistance to the bitter end, the job was now finished. There was only one thing left for it to do, now that it was over…
Early the next morning a sharp, piercing scream ripped through the air, shattering the calm tranquil dawn. More screams followed, until the derelict builders yard (the home of the tabby's tribe) were filled with screams and sobs, as the tribe of cats met their friend, their ally and associate, their missing feline that had at last come home.
The young tabby's corpse shockingly didn't even look like a body, its remains torn and dried blood covered the tabby. The arms had been ripped off and were gone, the legs had been twisted to such an extent that one would've thought there were no bones in them. What was most shocking and disturbing was the tom's face – bruised and beaten, the eyes had been gouged out and speared on what were iron spikes that both went right through the tom's head.
The stomach (or what was left of it), however, had a few words scrawled onto them. They were written very roughly and crudely, but were clear and very real:
THE AGE OF MACAVITY HAS BEGUN
ALL SHALL BOW TO MACAVITY
XXX
"From then on, every cat in the city would know about Macavity and his evil ways, and one poor tom had to suffer to get his message across. The rest, as they say, is history."
Around the large wheel, the Jellicle cats were trembling with fear and shock as Plato finished his story. The older cats were looking unnerved. Demeter had gone very pale, Bombalurina looked like she was about to be sick and Alonzo had his paw over his mouth with his eyes wide as sauce plates. The younger Jellicles were truly beside themselves. Pouncival was whispering gently to Jemima in an attempt to calm her nerves (though this may have been to calm his own nerves as well), a fearful Rumpleteazer was holding onto Mungojerrie's arm, Electra had her tail in her mouth to try and conceal her screams and Etcetera was trembling and had a tight grip on Rum Tum Tugger's leg, which the tom for some reason still looked rather unmoved by the story, though was more annoyed with Etcetera holding him like that.
"Well?" Plato demanded, oddly tense. "Didn't I do a good enough job?"
"Y-y-yes, Pla-Plato. You did a very – very good job." Tumblebrutus mumbled; despite his tension Plato was pleased to see that his younger brother had indeed been spooked by that story.
"That was a very frightening story, Plato," Victoria said weakly. "It WAS just a story, right Plato?"
Plato didn't answer her, or anyone for that matter. Slowly, he took his seat beside the Victoria and purposefully ignoring the other questions being asked by the Jellicles about the story's truth.
Even Old Deuteronomy looked rather unnerved by the tale as he faced his anxious tribe. "I say…v-very good story there, Plato. I suppose this concludes the evening for storytelling. Take care of yourselves."
Normally many would've headed back to the comfort of their human homes, but with many of them being spooked by Plato's story, many quickly decided to stay in their dens in the Junkyard and only a handful of brave souls decided to venture out into the night.
Plato and Victoria were of the many who had decided to stay in the Junkyard, though this was mostly coming from Victoria who now seemed dead set against of going out that night.
As they made themselves comfortable in the den, Plato quickly curled up and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Victoria was sure though that there was more to this story than anyone thought. She appeared to be steeling herself to speak.
"It was real, wasn't it?" she asked her mate gently. "Your story was real, Plato. Who was it?"
The patched tom stayed silent, his eyes firmly shut. His charade was spoilt only by the lack of deep breathing he should have been emitting.
"You can tell me, Plato. I won't tell anyone. Please… I want to be there for you, I care so much about you, I don't want you to keep this hidden from me," Victoria pleaded. "Let me help you my love. Please. Who was it?"
Plato didn't answer. After a few moments, the white queen decided that Plato had actually gone to sleep, and retired into a deep slumber herself, wishing she could do more for her mate.
After a minute, Plato opened an eye. Carefully scanning at his lover and making sure she was asleep. Quietly moving away from her and towards to the wall of the den, he pulled out a slightly torn and faded photograph from a small crack in the side of the den. It may of looked like it was worthless to anyone, but to Plato, it was worth more than all the gold in the world.
The picture was one that his human owner had taken it many years ago (and that he had acquired in some circumstances). On it were two young tom-kits that were playing around with a ball of string, one of them being a patched white and brown tom and the other…a cream tom with brown stripes.
Plato was laughing happily as they were playing their game, while the other cream tom laughed happily too with his eyes full of shining happiness and adoration for his dear friend. Staring at the picture for a minute, Plato blinked back a few tears, put the photo back where he found it, curling up beside Victoria and then closed his eyes again, this time sinking into a deep sleep filled with happy memories, young kittens, and permutations of them that seemed to burn into him…
Meanwhile, somewhere else in London, a large crimson red tom laughed menacingly with triumph.
Well...certainly the darkest thing I've written, and for my first horror story, I don't think it wasn't that bad, though what did you think? Please R&R and also...Happy Halloween, Muhahaha...