The Catt Box
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Primitive Witch's Cat!
Even witches have dolls, and this is one of the witch's favorites....... Grimalkin.
And apparently, she's been playing in the Witch's closet.
She's a tall kitty......about 33 inches tall, from her hat to her toes, and she's been painted black. Even her dress has been painted black.
And Grimalkin has a special hand-made broom. It was made from an old stick and a gathering of black Raffia.
But sometimes, Grimalkin isn't just a doll. She can be a 'Witch's familiar' within seconds.......spying and then reporting to her owner about all sorts of things.
You see, we were given this doll during a thunderstorm by an old Witch at the end of town, on Worm Ranch Road. We thought she was just being nice, but now we're having second thoughts as to her motives.
She only changes during a thunderstorm. We're due to have one later on this evening.....and I'm not looking forward to it.
Grimalkin came to us with a little 3½ inch tall wooden Cat toy. And on some stormy nights, we can hear her playing with her wooden Cat in the hallway......making it's little wooden Cat-feet dance a jig on the hardwood floor.
Sometimes she leaves the toy on our chairs and when we sit down, we stick ourselves because the toy's whiskers are made of metal.
She is so sadistic.
And it's a horrid little toy.
Sure, at first it looks cute, but not in the dead of night, during a storm, while dancing and clicking.
And it has those wire joints on the arms and legs.......and I don't even want to KNOW what that looks like while it's in action.
It probably looks like some little demonic puppet from HELL.
We just pull the covers up over our heads and wait till the dancing stops.
It never fails, though.....it always starts the same way...Grimalkin will be hanging on the wall with the other dolls......the skies grow dark, with a hint of green. Then we hear the distant rumble of thunder.
At first the air is very still...and no birds are singing anywhere.....there isn't a branch swaying, or a blade of grass moving.
Slowly, the wind picks up, and we can see the flashes of lightening from the window.
It's getting closer.
Pretty soon the electricity begins to flicker, and we light candles, in case we find ourselves in darkness. The wind begins to howl and even our cats take cover.
They know what's coming.
And just about that time, with the first real crack of thunder and blinding flash of light, the Witch's Kitty Doll begins to smile.
It's the only doll that can be seen, once a storm begins. The other dolls seem to fade into the darkness.
Even my other scary baby dolls seem less scary with Grimalkin in the house. We certainly don't see THEM grinning and blinking their eyes at us.
Grimalkin's dim-shut green cat-eyes glare at us from across the room. The smile widens and the teeth look menacing. The scary Gypsy Grass stick-whiskers seem to quiver with life. And the black muzzle pom-poms begin to move, as though the doll is sniffing around for us.
We see the doll come to life only during those moments of flashing light from the lightening. It seems to charge the doll with life. With another bolt of light we see her black gloved hand smooth her painted dress into place.
We can hear the paint-stiffened dress crackle and crinkle as she moves.
She navigates in stop-action manner.....like watching an old Sinbad movie with 'Ray Harryhousen' special effects....her grimace getting wider and wider with each second.
And shortly after she begins to walk around, the spider on the front of her dress will crawl around.
We can see her ears move with each sound we make.....trying to spy on what we say and do. And now that she's wearing the Witch's hat, we can only see the hat moving.
This moment can be scarier than being left alone in the upstairs area of Lizzie Borden's house during an August heat-wave.
Not that "I" know what that's like......or any of my close friends.
Just then, like most other thunder storms in South Carolina, the storm will suddenly grow quiet. It moves on past us.
And as always, we look over to Grimalkin, and there she hangs, right in among the other dolls, as if nothing ever happened.
Only now she wears a bigger evil grimace on her face. It seems as though she gets more evil looking with each storm we have.
And now that she is all 'charged up', we know that the moments of the 'dancing Cat' and the scary sweeping of the broom are yet to come.
Our skies are already beginning to darken.....
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!! GET THIS DOLL OUT OF MY HOUSE!!
Please pray for us this evening.
Copyright © August 24, 2003 and July 25, 2004 Cathy Palmer-Scruggs / Catt Alexander
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My dolls are not for everyone, they are my art. If you are offended, I suggest you hit the back button. It will not do you any good to write me 'hate mail'.
In spite of the dolls I create and the stories I write, I do not use recreational drugs, I don't smoke cigarettes, and I don't even drink alcoholic beverages.