Storytime Sunday Feature: Mephistopheles
- Samuel Brower
- Mar 23
- 3 min read
Today I’m bringing back an old favorite—Mephistopheles, a short story I originally published with the e-zine Zero Flash. It’s a bite-sized horror tale that starts with two boys trying to do the right thing… and ends somewhere much darker. Enjoy!
—————————————————————
“That’s Meph,” Jacob said, pointing at a large, black tomcat. “One of Missus Schultz’s cats.”
“What kind of a name is Meph?” Brayden, Jacob’s new neighbor and current best friend, asked.
“It’s short for something. Mephisto…Mephistophil…something, I can’t say it.”
The great beast of a cat sat at the edge of the sidewalk, idly batting at fallen autumn leaves. The fur around its mouth was matted and glistening in the sunlight. Jacob took a step closer, bent, and examined the cat’s mouth.
“I think he’s hurt,” the boy said. “I can’t tell if the stuff around his mouth is blood, his fur is too black, but some of the leaves he was playing with are red.”
“Black cats are unlucky,” Brayden said. “Let’s go.”
Jacob stayed put. “Missus Schultz says that’s not true. She says that’s an old wives’ tale only stupid people believe.”
He looked up at the house directly behind the black cat—Mrs. Schultz’s house.
“Jacob, let’s go,” Brayden urged, eager to get about their Saturday.
“Meph is an inside cat,” Jacob said.
“So?”
“So, Missus Schultz won’t want him outside. He could get hit by a car. I think this is blood on his face. He might already be hurt. We should get him back inside so Missus Schultz can take him to a vet if he needs to go.” Jacob looked around but didn’t see anything sharp the cat might’ve chewed on. “He probably got into somebody’s trash or something.”
“The garbagemen come on Thursdays, not Saturdays,” Brayden said. “I should know, my dad makes me take it to the curb every week. But…well, that was at my old house. I don’t know when they come here.” The boy looked down the street both ways. “Not today, though. No cans at the curb.”
“Well, he got into something,” Jacob said. “I can smell it now, It’s blood.”
“You can’t smell blood…”
“Yeah you can, it smells like pennies.”
“What? You can’t smell pennies either!”
Jacob shook his head and waved a hand through the air. “C’mon, let’s just get him inside. It’ll only take a second.”
Brayden rolled his eyes. “Let’s hurry, then.”
The pair approached the old house together. Meph pricked up his ears as Jacob made soft cooing sounds and patted his leg. The cat then stood, stretched, and followed the boys.
At the front door Jacob knocked for a good long time, but it was to no avail.
“She’s not home,” Brayden said. “The cat will be fine now that it’s in the yard, let’s just go.”
Jacob scoffed. “She’s like a hundred, where would she go? Maybe she’s taking a nap.” He scratched his head. “I bet the back door is unlocked. Meph had to get out somehow.”
They circled around to the back yard. Jacob continued to beckon Meph, and the big cat continued to follow. At the rear of the house the boys stopped. Only the screen door was closed, the wood and glass door behind it left open to let in the crisp, autumn air. The screen door had a large, ragged-edged hole at its bottom, parts of its edges showing red.
“Jacob,” Brayden pleaded, eyeing the hole.
Jacob, undeterred, went in through the torn screen door, Brayden reluctantly trailing behind. The door opened into a kitchen. Cats scattered as the boys entered, scattered away from a form lying on the stained linoleum floor. A pungent, rotten odor soured the air. Brayden began to cry. At their feet, Missus Schultz lay in her final repose, her face a mask of red-purple muscle and pink-white bone.
As the boys stood frozen, Meph stepped in through the hole in the screen door, padded quietly over to the dead old woman, and began to gnaw at the one the fingers on her claw-curled hand.
—————————————————————
For more stories like this, you can purchase the collection it appears in here:
Comments