Nursery Crimes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


A short story inspired by 'Ding, Dong, Dell.'

Chapter 7 (v.1) - Drowned!

Submitted: April 05, 2018

Reads: 245

Comments: 5

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 05, 2018

A A A

A A A

Ding, dong, dell,

Pussy’s in the well!

Who put her in?

Little Johnny Green.

Who pulled her out?

Little Tommy Stout.

What a naughty boy was that

to try to drown that pussy cat,

Who never did him any harm,

And killed the mice in his father’s barn.

 

Drowned!

“I hate you, you killer!” Johnny was beside himself with a combination of rage and upset. The cat was a farm cat, kept to keep the mice population down around the yard. Everyone excepted it; all except for Johnny.

It was unfortunate that he should enter the barn just as Megs, the cat, was hard at work. Johnny watched in horror as the cat killed the mouse; he had grabbed the cat roughly and ran with it, under his arm, towards the well.

“Stop him!” Polly, his sister, called, but Johnny, seeming to be completely oblivious to the scratches, had too much of a head start.

Polly screamed and Megs yowled as he flung her in through the open top of the well. Polly threw herself at her brother. “I’ll kill you, just like you did my Megs.” She thumped, she kicked, she tried to push her brother down the well too, but he was much bigger than her.

“She was nothing more than a vicious killer and deserved what she got,” he spat out at her.

Tommy Stout arrived and peered down in to the well. “Don’t give up, Polly. She might be okay. Let me hoist up the bucket, see if she landed in there.”

Tommy turned the handle and the rope tautened. The bucket rose slowly and steadily, gradually revealing the body of the cat. Polly howled even louder, picked up the sodden cat and ran. She sat with Megs all day, crying and stroking her fur, but the cat did not breathe. Strangely though, Polly almost believed that she felt her cat move.

Sneakily she carried the body up the stairs to her room. She had the perfect sized box there to use as a coffin. Carefully she lined it with her best dress and laid the cat, now stiff with rigor mortis, into the box. She bent down, kissed the cats head, then placed the top onto the box. It was getting dark, too dark to have a burial tonight. She would see to it in the morning.

Polly cried herself to sleep, missing Megs’ warm body curled up beside her, but eventually, tired out by emotion, Polly slept.

All was quiet in the house apart from the various snores and snuffles as the lid moved off the box and Megs, or what was formerly Megs, stood stiffly and moved awkwardly to the door. She knew exactly where she was heading, Johnny’s room. What she would do, how she would achieve it, she had yet to work out, but one thing she knew – hers would not be the only burial about to take place.

The door was not shut properly so all she had to do was push her body against it. She slipped inside silently, looking around for ideas. And then she had it, the perfect plan.

Megs’ body jumped up on to the bed, and walked straight up the body of Johnny. He stirred but did not fully wake. On the bedside table was a jug of water. The boy had always woken wanting a drink, so his mother had come up with a solution. Megs pushed gently against the jug, for the position had to be perfect.

And then she sprang, claws out to land on Johnny’s chest. His eyes shot open, as did his mouth. Before he had a chance to make a sound Megs leaped to the side, knocking the jug straight on to Johnny’s open mouth and nose. Already inhaling to let out a scream, he had no way of stopping himself from choking, breathing the water in and drowning himself.

Satisfied with her work, Megs slipped from the room and returned to the box. She lay down in the same position as Polly had put her in, and closed her eyes, as dead as she had been when she’d been pulled from the well.

The morning brought weeping and pandemonium. The doctor was called, who confirmed death by drowning. Johnny must have tried to drink in his sleep. Only Polly knew what had happened. She had found the box without the top on properly; she knew it had been in place when she went to bed. But Polly would not say a word; Johnny had drowned Megs and it was only right that somehow Megs had managed to do it back.


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