"Scratch" by Jim Donohue

Scratch

by Jim Donohue

Erin had been told only one rule when she agreed to babysit for the Greeley family: 

Don’t open the attic door.

The warning had been whispered by Mrs. Greeley herself, eyes hollow, voice trembling, as if speaking the words gave them power. “The only thing I ask is that you don’t open the attic door. Can you promise me that?”

Erin had laughed it off at first — country superstition, she thought. Still, she promised.

By nine o’clock the Greeleys’ children were asleep, and Erin sat in the parlor with her schoolbook. The fire crackled. Their tabby cat, Scratch, dozed on the hearth. For a while, everything was still.

Then came the sound.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Erin lifted her head, frowning. The noise came from above. She thought of squirrels in the rafters, but the sound was too precise — like fingernails dragging across wood.

Scratch stirred. The cat’s ears twitched; then his fur flared, and he rose with a hiss. He stalked toward the stairs, tail whipping.

“Don’t startle me like that,” Erin whispered, trying to laugh. But her voice shook.

The scratching came again, followed by a voice.

“Child…”

Erin froze. It was a woman’s voice, aged and thin, curling down from the attic door like smoke. “Sweet child. Won’t you let me out?”

Her mouth went dry.

“Please. I’m so cold. I’ve been up here so long…”

Scratch spat, a warning snarl rattling in his throat. He crouched low on the stair, eyes burning.

Erin’s heart thudded. “Who’s up there?” she called, instantly regretting it.

The voice tittered. “My name is Agnes. I used to be the Greeleys’ housekeeper and babysitter. When Mr. Greeley died, his wife locked me up here. Please let me out?”

Erin stumbled backward, bile rising in her throat. She remembered the stories whispered in town about the missing elderly woman.

Not missing Erin thought, locked away.

The voice sharpened, angry now. “Your hands are strong. The bolt is weak. Open the door and free me. You’ll be rewarded.”

“No…” Erin whispered.

Scratch launched up the steps, slamming his small body against the attic door. He clawed and hissed, every hair bristling.

The thing inside shrieked — no longer the voice of an old woman. The sound shook the house.

“Ungrateful whelp!” it roared. “Do you know what it is that waits to feed when I get free?”

The door shuddered under a massive blow. Erin ran.

Scratch did not retreat. He lashed at the frame with furious claws, yowling with a savagery Erin had never heard from a cat. His body was small, but his rage made up for it..

Inside, the beast bellowed, its voice a twisted chorus of human and animal. “You cannot keep me forever!”

Another slam rattled the door..

Scratch remained on the top step, watching the attic. His sides heaved, but he did not move until the roars were but an echo.

                                                    * * * * * * * 

When Mrs. Greeley returned near midnight, Erin was asleep on the couch. She opened her eyes when she heard the door close and ran into Mrs. Greeley’s arms. She tried to explain — the scratching, the voice, the beast — but Mrs. Greeley only smiled and told her she was having a nightmare..

“Silly girl, you were only dreaming,” she said softly. Then, with a glance up the stairs: “There’s nothing in that old attic, but old furniture and some clothing..”

Erin followed her gaze. “But, I wasn’t dreaming, Mrs. Greeley, I promise you I wasn’t,”

“Erin, would you like me to show you that there’s nothing up there? Come on, dear, walk with me.”

Erin reluctantly followed Mrs. Greeley up the stairs, toward the attic door. When they got up there, Erin said “OK, no, I don’t want you to open it. Never mind.” She was clearly trembling.

Mrs. Greeley smiled and said, “You poor child, you got yourself so afraid. Must’ve been some dream!. Here, I’ll go in, you just relax.”

Mrs. Greeley turned the door knob, the sound of which sent chills through Erin.

The door was open.

The first thing that met them was the complete absence of light. It was pitch black in there.

And cold.

Both of them got chills and immediately rubbed their arms up and down. Mrs Greeley explained, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, there’s no heat up here. This time of year it gets very cold in the attic. And the musty furniture and clothing smells pretty bad, doesn’t it? That’s why I didn’t want you coming up here. Here, let me turn the light on.”

Erini started to say NO, but light filled the room and she saw nothing but covered up furniture and clothing bins, just like Mrs. Greeley said.

“But I could’ve sworn…….well, maybe I WAS dreaming, but it was so real. It really was! But, wait!! What about the scratches I heard?”

“Ha-ha, you probably dreamt you heard scratches because of the cat’s name. That makes perfect sense, no?” the older woman explained.

“I guess so. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Greeley.”

“No bother at all, dear. Come on, let’s get downstairs and I’ll get your money for you.” 

The two ladies turned and Erin thought she saw, in her peripheral vision, one of the pieces of covered furniture move. She shrugged it off as her imagination, but as they approached the door to leave, she screamed.

There were scratches on the inside of the attic door!

“Oh, those, the delivery men scratched that when they were bringing the old furniture in.”

The two shared a relieved laugh, as they all descended the staircase.

Well, almost all.

Neither of them noticed that Scratch was still at the top of the stairs. No one saw that her fur was standing up as she stared at the attic door.

And no one heard her hiss, in response to the low growl that came from the other side.


                                                                The End