Icelandic Yule Tide Cat

Rat-a-tat-tat, it is the sound of the dreaded, Icelandic Yule Cat. You have to get me a jacket or shoes or something else I plead My mother rolls her eyes. That’s a faerie tale, she says. Her face is fat. Come on! I say, it will eat me up, I will be ripped and bleed. My father gives me an eye roll that says he does not believe. Polish, what does he know of this notorious evil Yule Cat that’s near? My grandmother told me. My chest begins to wail and heave. Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat. I can hear it and nearly faint with fear Socks, a headband, a wrist, a shirt, a blouse, something I beg. I can hear the masticating teeth, and I nearly die with fright. I would get you jeans, but they will be long and narrow in the leg, My mother says after a while, then she turns off my night light. It is Christmas Eve, and I am too afraid to close my eyes. I should have only asked for clothes, not toys or that autograph. If she does not keep her promise, I will be one of many who dies. Rat-a-tat-tat sound comes right up to my ear, hot breath, and a laugh.