Five Claws and a Smile

The Cat in the Hat leaves a message for two teens.

The rain had started sometime after midnight.

Not the gentle kind either, the hard Michigan spring rain that rattled the windows and turned the streets into rivers of reflected streetlight. Inside the Montgomery house, the only sound competing with the storm was the steady ticking of the wall clock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Ian Montgomery sat on the couch scrolling through his phone, half watching some late-night horror movie playing silently on the television. His younger sister, Tia, lay sprawled across the recliner with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Mom should be home by now,” she muttered.

Ian glanced at the clock.

1:13 AM

“She said the hospital was slammed tonight,” he said. “Relax.”

Tia rolled her eyes but didn’t look convinced.

The movie on TV showed a masked killer walking slowly down a hallway, knife in hand. Ian snorted and muted it.

“Real killers don’t move that slow,” he said.

Tia sat up.

“Stop. I don’t want to hear about that tonight.”

Ian knew exactly why.

Every kid in town knew the story.

The Cat in the Hat.

The nickname had started online after the third murder. A grainy security camera image had shown a tall figure walking down an alley wearing a long black coat and a tall, narrow hat.

Like something out of a twisted cartoon.

But the bodies...

The bodies made it real.

Each victim had deep claw-like carvings across their chest. Five curved gouges, like cat paws. And somewhere nearby, always written in something dark; were the same words.

The Cat in the Hat was here.

Five victims in six months.

The police still had nothing.

A loud thump echoed from upstairs.

Both teenagers froze.

Tia slowly turned toward the staircase.

“...Did you hear that?”

Ian sat up straighter.

“Yeah.”

Another sound.

Scrrrtch

Like something dragging across wood.

The two of them stared at each other.

“You locked the door, right?” Tia whispered.

Ian nodded.

“Yeah.”

The scratching sound came again.

From the hallway upstairs.

Tia pulled the blanket tighter.

“Ian...”

He stood slowly.

“Stay here.”

“Absolutely not.”

She followed him immediately as he grabbed the flashlight from the kitchen counter.

The Montgomery house was old, built in the 1940s, and every stair creaked like it was announcing their presence to the world.

Step.

Creak

Step.

The hallway upstairs was dark.

Ian swept the flashlight across the walls.

Family photos.

Closed bedroom doors.

The bathroom.

Nothing.

Tia exhaled slowly.

“See? Probably the cat from next door got into the attic again.”

Then Ian’s light hit the wall.

He froze.

Five deep scratches carved into the drywall.

Perfect arcs.

Like claws.

Tia stepped beside him.

“...Ian.”

Her voice trembled.

Beneath the claw marks, written in something dark and still dripping down the wall, were words.

The Cat in the Hat was here

Tia grabbed his arm.

“Nope. Nope. Nope. We’re leaving.”

Ian swallowed hard.

“That...that’s probably a prank.”

But even as he said it, he didn’t believe it.

The scratching sound came again.

This time from behind them.

They both spun.

At the end of the hallway, the door to Ian’s bedroom was slowly opening.

Creeeeeak

The flashlight beam trembled in Ian’s hand.

The door opened wider.

And a tall silhouette stepped into the hall.

The man was impossibly thin, his shoulders narrow beneath a long black coat soaked from the rain.

But what made Tia’s stomach drop was the hat.

Tall.

Red and White striped.

And crooked.

The figure tilted its head slightly, like a curious animal.

Then he stepped forward.

The hallway light flickered.

For just a second, Ian saw his face.

Pale skin stretched tight across sharp bones.

A wide smile carved too deep into his cheeks.

And black paint smeared across his eyes like a mask.

The man lifted one hand.

Metal claws extended from a glove.

Five curved blades.

“Hello,” the man whispered softly.

His voice sounded almost cheerful.

Tia grabbed Ian’s sleeve.

“We’re running.”

They bolted down the hallway.

Behind them:

Footsteps.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Almost playful.

They slammed into the staircase and raced down, nearly tripping over each other.

Ian grabbed his phone.

“No signal?!”

Tia ran to the front door and yanked it open.

Locked.

Her hands shook as she twisted the deadbolt.

Behind them, a voice drifted down the staircase.

Soft.

Singing.

Almost like a nursery rhyme.

“In this house on this dark night…
Two little mice gave quite a fright…”

The footsteps descended slowly.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Ian finally got the deadbolt open and threw the door wide.

The rain hammered the porch.

“GO!”

They sprinted outside barefoot, splashing through puddles and racing across the lawn toward the neighbor’s house.

Behind them:

A shape appeared in the doorway.

The tall hat.

Watching.

The Cat in the Hat raised one clawed hand and waved.

Then slowly...deliberately...

He reached inside his coat and pulled out a knife.

He knelt down on the Montgomery porch.

And began carving something into the wooden floor.

Ian and Tia pounded on the neighbor’s door screaming.

Lights flicked on inside.

By the time the police arrived ten minutes later, the Montgomery house was empty.

No killer.

No footprints in the rain.

Nothing inside but the deep claw marks carved into the upstairs wall.

And on the porch…

Freshly cut into the wood.

It was too wet to play.

Two days later, the story spread across town.

Police called it a hoax.

The real killer, they said, was still out there somewhere.

That night, Ian lay awake in bed at their aunt’s house.

He couldn’t sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw that smile.

Then he heard something outside the window.

A soft scraping sound.

Scrrrtch

Ian slowly sat up.

Outside in the darkness of the backyard stood a tall silhouette beneath the maple tree.

The figure raised one clawed hand and slowly tapped the glass.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And then it lifted a finger to its lips.

Shhhhh

Word Count: 987
Prompt: Take the basic plot/story of The Cat in the Hat, but rework it into a genre piece.
Written for: "The Writer's Cramp"