Marcie and the Ball of Wool (version two)

Here’s the not so child-friendly version of the cat tangling wool round the house. It’s probably just as well I didn’t go for the giant rat suggestion really.

Marcie and the Ball of Wool

I knew something was wrong before I opened the door. There were no signs, no noise, no smell. That was how I knew. There was always noise when Marcie was around. She would scratch, knock things over, meow or wail. If she wasn’t greeting me from the other side of the door she would spring over the wall to meet me on the path, weaving through my legs, purring like a saw.

What had the blasted cat done now? Last time I’d gone out for the day she’d ripped the wallpaper and raced up the curtains leaving threads laddering all the way up to the rail that she’d sat on, staring at the mess she’d made in a quietly satisfied way. The time before she’d abandoned the litter tray and left a wet, mucky and smelly trail all through the living room.

I took a deep breath and opened the door. I stared in shock. I let my breath back out with a wumph. Whatever I was expecting it wasn’t this. A web of threads covered the hall. I could hardly see the walls. Then I looked closer. What I could see made me gasp air in again. Tangled in the threads, right at eye height, were small bones, picked clean and white.

I pulled the threads and cleared a way in. The bones gleamed at me making me shiver. Something brushed my cheek. I stepped back sharply into another net of wool. Looking to see what the softness was, I saw a feather. I pulled and pulled. Feathers and bones came away with the wool. I pulled my legs free and made a path into the living room. Wool taut with fur covered the room from sofa to lightshade. Tufts of grey, black and brown were woven into the nets along with the bones and feathers.

I found some scissors on a shelf and cut my way through. I was sure the wool was getting thicker. The fur was attached to skin and blood speckled. No sign of Marcie anywhere. No sound at all. I thrust the threads in a pile and made my way to the kitchen. The door opened onto something worse. The wool was thicker and more tangled. There were mice tails, bird heads, unidentified flesh tied into the wool wall. I cut and cut.

Then I saw her. Marcie was in the middle of the room almost wrapped in wool. Her paws weren’t even on the floor. I called out and tried to reach her. Then I stopped. What was she doing? Her front paws were moving, weaving, snagging threads. I felt a tug round my ankle. Marcie looked up at me, her green eyes shone and her paw moved. She was silent and I could not speak. She pulled another strand of wool and my arms were pinned to my sides. I dropped the scissors.

The wool tightened and wove around me until I could only see her eyes staring at me. With a swish of her paw wool covered my eyes.