The Mutilation Machination by Shaun Jeffrey Read Free Book Online Page A

knife and stared at the
corpse. It looked pitiful and fresh tears stung my eyes. After a slight
hesitation, I picked the knife up again and sliced the blade into the cat
before I had time to change my mind. It wasn’t so bad when I started. There
wasn’t much blood as no heart pumped, and despite the cold, slimy feel,
removing the cat’s innards was no worse than taking the giblets out of the
turkey at Christmas, something I had done last year.
    Once I had gutted the cat, I started to construct a mechanism to
provide movement. It wouldn’t be the most technical of accomplishments, but I
knew when it was inside the cat, no one would see it, so I wasn’t too concerned
with its aesthetics. I used a small drill to make holes in the cat’s bones, to
which I attached Meccano strips, supplementing its own skeleton with one of my
own onto which I attached the clockwork device I had made.
     I had to make a couple of journeys to the house, but mother
seemed to either not notice me or ignore me as she fed Vicky.
    Because I found the body, I think she blames me for father’s
death.
     It took the best part of the remainder of the day, but
eventually I finished.
    I stood the cat on the table, inserted a key into a small hole in
its underside and turned it. Through my fingers on the cat’s back I could feel
the cogs turning, the multiple springs being tensioned.
    Ten turns later, I released the key and stepped back. The cat’s
eyes stared back at me, but nothing happened.
    Wondering if I had done something wrong, I stepped toward the cat
when it suddenly blinked, stopping me in my tracks. That wasn’t supposed to
happen. Its eyes weren’t supposed to blink; couldn’t blink because nothing
powered them. I had considered how to make its eyes move, but decided making it
walk would be enough.
    The cat’s head moved a fraction, just a twitch at first, almost
imperceptible, then it swivelled from side to side as though testing the
movement. It took a tentative step, its movement’s jerky, mechanical. The limbs
hardly bent at the joints, which was disappointing after I’d spent so long
fashioning the Meccano and bone links.
    I could feel my heart beating in time with the clocks that pulsed
through the room. The cat staggered toward me, its limbs moving with the
stiffness of a soldier on parade. I took a step back; could feel the blood
throbbing at my temples, could feel the sweat on my back.
    What had I done?
    The cat opened its mouth. That shouldn’t have happened either. It
wasn’t wired to work.
    I wondered whether it made a sound.
    Unable to look at it any longer, I ran out of the den, back to the
house and into the kitchen where I stood shaking.
    “Alex, are you okay?” mother asked as she looked up from feeding
Vicky.
    I couldn’t tell her what I’d done, didn’t fully understand it
enough to explain, but that dead cat was more than a reanimated clockwork
pussy. It had a life of its own, and it terrified me. I’d only wanted to make
it move, to make it not seem so dead.
    “You’re pale as a sheet. Are you sure you’re okay?”
    I signed that I was fine, then I offered to carry on feeding Vicky
while mother had a break. Mother smiled and nodded.
    “You’re a good boy, Alex.”
    While I spoon-fed Vicky something purporting to be pasta in sauce,
I thought about the cat. I couldn’t leave it in the den. But what could I do
with it?
    My sister opened and closed her mouth, as greedy as a baby bird.
Her hair was like spun gold, her eyes as blue as the sky. She still had a lot
of baby fat, which made her look like those old paintings of cherubs. I smiled
at her, and she smiled back. I envied her the innocence that didn’t yet feel
the pain of loss.
    After I’d fed and changed her, I rocked her to sleep, put her in
the cot and then walked back out to the den.
    I stood outside the structure, my hand on the door, feeling the
beat of the clocks through the wood.
    Bracing myself, I took a deep breath, then flung the door