The Cats of Ulthar, by H.P. Lovecraft, read by Mike Barrett.

It is said that in Ulthar, which lies beyond the river sky, no man may kill a cat, and this I can

verily believe, as I gaze upon him who siteth purring by the fire, for the cat is cryptic and close to strange things which

men cannot see. He is the soul of antique Egyptians and the bearer of tales from forgotten cities in

morrow and offia. He is the kin of the jungles, lords, and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister Africa.

The Sphinx is his cousin and he speaks her language, but he is more ancient than the Sphinx

and remembers that which she hath forgotten. In Ulthar, before ever the Burgesses forbade the killing of cats, there dwelt an old

cotter and his wife who delighted to trap and slay the cats of their neighbours.

Why they did this, I know not, save that many hate the voice of the cat in the night and take it ill that cats should

run stealthily about yards and gardens at twilight.

But whatever the reason, this old man and woman took pleasure in trapping and

slaying every cat which came near to their hovel, and from some of the sounds heard after dark, many villagers fancied

that the manner of slaying was exceedingly peculiar.

But the villagers did not discuss such things with the old man and his wife because of the habitual

expression on the withered faces of the two, and because their cottage

were so small and so darkly hidden under spreading oaks at the back of a neglected yard.

In truth, much as the owners of cats hated these odd folk, they feared them more, and instead of berating them as brutal

assassins, merely took care that no cherished pet or mouser should stray toward the remote hovel under the dark trees.

When through some unavoidable oversight a cat was missed and sounds heard after dark. The loser would lament,

impudently, or console himself by thanking fate that it was not one of his children who had thus vanished.

For the people of Ulthar were simple, and knew not whence it is, all cats first came.

One day, a caravan of strange wanderers from the south entered the narrow cobbled streets of Ulthar. Dark wanderers they were, and unlike the other roving folk who passed through

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