Haunted Mansion- The Cat and The Five Little Birds

Few things make sense in this world when taken out of proper context. Therefore, please know that outside Gracey Manor is a small garden set aside for the many pets who have given so much love to their owners. In this case the dear companion was a cat belonging to Mrs. Mary (Gilbert) Gracey, mother to Master Gracey, last owner of the Mansion.

The Cat and

The Five Little Birds

Mary Gracey was an emotional wreck after the death of her children, Gladys and James. She lost all sense of reality and regressed to a child-like state. The days were spent reading fables and consulting with the infamous Madam Victoria.

One of Mary’s favorite stories was about a cat who thought it was a bird. It would sleep beside the nest and eat worms just like any other fowl. One day it was time for flying lessons. All the birdies took to the air but the cat was afraid. Finally it leapt out and started to fall. The little birds swooped underneath it and lowered the silly feline to the ground unharmed. Obviously the weak could save the strong if only…

Poor Mary desperately wanted the story to be true. One day she took a cat, tied five little birds to its belly and threw the howling, squawking bundle out the tower window. They plummeted to a nasty mess below. Like any five year old, she wondered what had happened. Why didn’t the birdies save the cat? Without delay Mary called for the buggy and made for town. She ordered a stone mason to construct a memorial for the flattened creatures and then made for a certain shop where she could talk to the only person who seemed to have all the answers, Madam Victoria D’Thave.

            A tiny silver bell rang its pure note as Mary entered Le Bat en Rouge.

“Victoria, Madam Victoria, are you home?”

            “Yes, my child, come in.” Victoria always greeted Mary this way, though she was herself only two years older. A large black raven on D’Thave’s shoulder gave its piercing caw then fell silent. “I sense that you have a question of me.”

            Mary’s words flooded through trembling lips, “Victoria, IWasReadingInOneOfMyBooksAboutACatWhoWasSavedBySomeBirdsAndYouToldMeThat

IfIWantedSomethingBadlyEnoughAndIfIWasWillingToTryMyBestThatICouldMakeItHappenButTheCat

AndAllTheBirdiesDiedAnywayWhy?”

            The gypsy sat motionless for several heartbeats before sighing loudly.

            “Mary, the birds weren’t strong enough to save the cat, just like you weren’t strong enough to save your children.” Mary winced at the accusation, hunched her shoulders and pulled her legs up onto the chair. “Of course, nobody would have expected one as young as you to have known how to help them.” Mrs. Gracey hugged her knees and wept silently. “After all, you are just a little thing aren’t you?” Almost without thinking, Mary began to suck her thumb and rock in her seat.

            “Now, tell me if you remember what we talked about last time.”

            Mrs. Gracey sat bolt upright, straightened her dress, put her knees and feet together and folded her hands gently in her lap. She was the image of the perfect little schoolgirl.

            “We talked about right and wrong. How people shouldn’t take things which don’t belong to them and if you discover that you have then you should give it back.”

            “Very good Mary, you have studied your lessons well.”

            The 44-year-old child beamed excitedly at the praise.

            “And if someone refuses to make things right…”

            “They should be punished.” That thought was to haunt Mary for years to come.

            “My dear, do you have anything which does not belong to you?”

            “No Madam Victoria. I gave you all the things which you said was stolen; the book, the sword, the old wooden chest which you said I shouldn’t open, the…”

“The silver knife…” prompted Victoria.

“Yes, the silver knife and the bottle with that icky blue stuff in it. I know you wanted the clock but George is mean and won’t let me take it.”

“That’s okay Mary. You have done very well. Yet there is just one more thing.” This was the moment she had been waiting 15 years to arrive.

 “The Mansion was stolen from my family 200 years ago. You should do right and bring me the deed. That sounds fair doesn’t it?”

But Victoria had overplayed her hand…

“I…don’t…think…we should give it back. It’s our house now. Where would we live?”

“Mary! What happens to little girls who are naughty?”

“They fall asleep and don’t wake up, like Gladys.”

“Yes. Gladys was a very naughty little girl…”

The ashes of maternal instinct in Mrs. Gracey, which had been crushed by Victoria’s sly counsel, suddenly burst forth in new flame.

“No! She was only five. How could she have been bad? She was a good girl, full of kindness and laughter. My baby, my sweet baby.”

The distraught woman had emerged from her childish shell.

“You don’t understand Victoria. Your daughter lives.”

“Mary…”

But it was too late. Her fragile web of deceitful guilt had been dashed away. Never again would D’Thave control the Mistress of Gracey Manor.

“Victoria, you have been a good friend for many years and I love you but in this case you are wrong. The house belonged to Ambrose and is now ours.” With a downcast look and pleading tone she continued, “I hope this does not ruin our friendship.”

Through thick and bitter disappointment Victoria managed to grasp her tattered scheme, “Of course Mary. We shall remain friends forever.”

Within weeks Mary had become her old self again. Her friends rejoiced in the revival and even helped plan a gala for Halloween that year. In her heart, Mary vowed to never again be subject to another’s will.