The Black Cats Request

The Black Cats Request

(Trigger warning: contains violence, mental health, and suicide)

Henry Donalds was one of the best Hatters in all of London in the early 1800’s, as well as one of the most intimidating men you had ever seen. From the clean shaven head, a perfect mustache, and the physique of an Olympian. He was truly a force to be reckoned with. While he had dreams of being a strong man, his father's passing made him decide to inherit the custom hat shop his father so famously owned. 

As a child he loved learning the way of making hats with his father. From the smell of the fresh leather and felt material being pressed, to watching his father form and stretch sheets of material into beautiful pieces of art. It was truly a sight to be seen, but Henry's favorite part was watching his father use a process on the animal fur called ‘carroting’ because as his father would paint the mysterious concoction on to the furs, he would take a slow deep inhale of the finished work. Then he slowly would become funnier and funnier to Henry, but soon that humor turned into something much worse.

As Henry got older his father became more and more ill. It started with tremors and the shakes which prevented him from stitching the hats, but before they knew it Henry's father went full blown mad screaming of seeing vivid colors and black cats everywhere he went.

Doctors all throughout the town could not find the source of what was causing his madness.

Over time they discovered it was the chemicals used for carroting ‘a common technique amongst hatters’ that was making him sick but he refused to quit using it until the day he finally threw himself from a balcony from the madness with no explanation. While he wasn't the only one who passed from this process, his story was one of the worst. They soon dubbed his illness as mad hatter syndrome.

In his final note to his son Henry, he simply asked to keep the tradition alive and to keep the process he does with his hats the same way no matter what people say so the quality of their products will never suffer. Stricken with grief, a young Henry had vowed to do exactly his father's wishes and continue making the hats the way his father always had. At first he loved his work, but as the years passed he grew to hate it as he could feel the madness succumb to him as well.

Unlike his father though, he took steps to keep the fumes away from him although by the end of the day it was pointless. He was certain he'd go the way his father did, but he didn't know when until one foggy morning where everything changed.

“Another day in this bloody line of work! I'm sick of coughing my lungs out for these ritzy folk!” Yelled Henry to himself as he marched through the deep morning fog, “Of all the things I could have been, why did this have to be my profession?” he thought to himself as finally got within a block of his work studio.

As he got closer to the door of his studio he noticed a large black cat with a scar over his right eye perched at the entrance almost as if it had been there for hours. In a fit of unnecessary fury he picked up a rock and chucked it towards the cat causing it to scurry into the alley. Without putting another thought to his actions he unlocked the door and marched into his workspace.

Just as one would expect from a person working with volatile chemicals since childhood their entire place was in shambles. Papers and sketches scattered everywhere. Old empty bottles of booze laying around, and even rodents feasting on whatever the meals from the weeks before were. But it was the odor of a vast array of chemicals and different pelts that permeated the workspace more than anything. 

As per usual, Henry wrapped his mouth in with a handkerchief in an attempt to prevent any fumes and started to work on the day's orders exactly as his father would, with a glass of scotch next to him and a sketch book of ideas. The London fog didn’t clear at all as the day went by, but after a few hours of working he heard a knock on his front door. He rushed to answer it, but no one was there. He closed the door and not even a moment later he heard the knock again. He swung the door in a fit of rage, but again no one was there. He slammed the door shut and locked it.

As Henry went back to work on an order he heard the window open. In a disoriented panic, he looked over to see what it was. To his surprise it was no other than the black cat from earlier, only the cat was standing on his hind legs with a cigarette in his mouth leaning on the corner of the open window. He was dressed in a dark maroon suit embroidered with a beautiful paisley finish. The cat was pitch black with wild fur poking out everywhere from his suit with eyes so maniacal they could terrorize the strongest of saints. Henry looked on in disbelief as the black cat stood there staring back at him.

“Pretty rude chucking rocks at a paying customer don't you think?” Said the black cat nonchalantly as he moseyed his way into Henry's work space.

“I can't believe my bloody eyes. You're a talking cat!” Yelled Henry as he slammed the window shut.

“You're asinine Father said the same thing the first day he met me. How is the old chap doing these days?” Said the black cat as he took a long draw from his cigarette.

Henry was still in disbelief, sat on the floor to get eye level with the feline. He muttered the words through the cloth covering his mouth, “Well…he's dead. He's been for a while…how did you know him?”

“Dead? Oh this is no good…No good at all. I've known him since I was a kitten and have had my hat on reserve for years in anticipation for today. Did he leave you anything to work with?” said the black cat in a scurried panic.

Henry paused for a moment, and thought long and hard before getting up and walking to the closet of his workspace. He rummaged through endless boxes until he found a small box wrapped tightly in cloth. 

It had a card attached to it that stated, “Finish upon his arrival.”

Henry unclothed and opened the box and sure enough there was a tiny maroon top hat with a spool of gold twine ready to be stitched. 

The black cat jumped on to Henry's shoulders in excitement and yelled, “That’s it!” 

Henry was perplexed as ever, “I’m glad my father wasted his time making a hat for you, but why should I?”

The black cat immediately grew angry, “You must not know who I am, big fella.” He said with a sharp tone.

“And who are you besides a nuisance?” asked Henry, matching the black cat's tone.

The black cat jokingly put his hands up as if he was scared, “Many things to many people, but to you simply a paying customer, friend. Sorry for my demeanor, but tonight is very important. How does $500 today to get it done by 8pm sound to you?”

Now Henry didn’t know it, but the madhatter syndrome was already taking hold, so he didn’t think anything of the deal he was making.

“You know what, it's almost finished. I’ll take your offer, just give me until 8pm and don’t tell a soul of our encounter.” said Henry as he was looking over his fathers sketches of the hat.

Pleased as a button the black cat nodded in approval as he said, “Well I'll let you work. I’ll be back at 8pm sharp.”

Henry simply shoo’d him off and got to work. It was only 2pm but the intricacies of the sketches his father had left him took hours to complete, but something in Henry took over. Almost as if he was determined to finish his fathers final piece. 30 minutes to 8pm Henry was finally done. The cat sized top hat was in pristine condition. With the extra time he went to package the box just as he would with any customer, That was when he had heard another knock on the door, it was no other than the black cat looking dapper as ever.

He marched in and tossed a wad of money Henry's way, “I presume It’s as good looking as ever, of course.”

“Only the finest, you mangey cat.” Henry replied sarcastically.

The black cat smirked as he walked past Henry. Suddenly, Henry felt a chill run down his spine and the room shifted in his mind. He looked at the black cat one more time as it gave him a sadistic grin. Henry’s heart stopped for a moment, but he shook it off and grabbed the box from the top shelf and handed it to the black cat to open. In sheer excitement the black cat used his claws and gently unwrapped the box to unveil a hat that matched his suit pristinely. He put it on and moseyed to the mirror to examine the work Henry had put in.

“You know it makes me sad the way your father went, But you carry his torch quite well, I must say.” The black cat stated pleased as could be.

“Well thank you. We strive to make all of our customers happy.” Henry said nonchalantly.

“Tell me, Henry. What happened to him now?” asked the black cat as he turned to him.

“Well mad hatter syndrome got him. For some reason he was on a third story building and jumped clean off.”

“Hmm. Sounds like a case of bad luck to me. Maybe even an omen.” teased the black cat. “Do you think mad hatter syndrome has got to you as well, by chance? I mean you are talking to a cat in a suit after all.” 

That question broke Henry and left him wondering as he looked at all of his unfinished work. 

But before he could say a word in response, the window opened, and a sea of suited black cats stormed his work studio like a mafia. Henry raced to a corner with a bat and tried to fend them off, but they swarmed and ultimately engulfed him. 

From bites to scratches Henry was forced to endure it all as he screamed, “They’re everywhere! They’re everywhere! Black Cats everywhere!” Eventually he broke free from the swarm and raced to his work dresser where he pulled out a small gun, the main black cat whistled and all of his men stopped.

“This is my show, boys. Stand down.” the black cat said as he walked in front of his army of felines and got face to face with Henry who was shaking so bad he could barely hold his gun. 

“Now your father made the same mistake of disrespecting me, and I cursed him for years before I felt better. Even lost a few lives along the way. But I’m too old to do that with you Henry. So I’ll make this quick. Apologize for throwing that rock at me, and give me my money back for the hat and I won’t let this ‘mad hatter syndrome’ of yours go any farther.”

Trembling in his boots Henry asked, “And if I don’t?”

The black cat's eyes grew a hypnotic yellow as they widened, “Well me and my boys will make sure you end up like your father…dead.” 

“Please just leave me alone!" cried Henry as he pointed the gun at the black cat. 

“Oh pointing a gun now? Major mistake, Henry.” 

Henry fired nonetheless, putting a hole straight through the black cat's brand new top hat. This infuriated the Black cat. So the black cat still starring Henry directly in the eyes snapped his fingers and like magic Henry fell asleep.

Henry quickly awoke standing at the edge of the very same building his father had jumped from. 

“Like father like son, huh Henry?”

Henry looked on in terror behind him, as an entire army of suited black cats stood in a stance of solidarity. Their leader was in his maroon paisley suit standing in front of them still holding the top hat Henry had shot through.

Henry went to step down from the edge, until each cat pulled out a gun of their own forcing him to stay.

“You’re stuck just like your father, Henry…Now jump!”

Suddenly all Henry could see was fuming colors of every shade scatter over his field of vision before inevitably passed out.

That morning, Henry was found lying motionless on the asphalt of a three story building.

“Another victim of mad hatter syndrome, I presume?” said one officer to the other.

“Yeah, like father. like son, it's a closed case. Mark it as suicide and lets get out of here.”

All while this was happening there was a black cat sitting on the perch watching the event unfold as if nothing had ever happened.