Ulthar is said that, which is beyond the river Skai, no man can kill a cat, and I can certainly believe as I look upon him who sitteth purring before the fire. For the cat is cryptic, and close to strange things that man can not see.
is the soul of ancient Egypt, and the carrier with stories of forgotten cities in Meroe and Ophir. Is a relative of the lords of the jungle, and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister Africa. The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language, but is older than the Sphinx, and remembers that she has forgotten.
In Ulthar, before the burgesses forbade the killing of cats, lived an old farmer and his wife who delighted to trap and kill the neighbors cats. Why they do not know, except that many hate the voice of the cat at 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 his hut, and from the sounds heard after dark, many villagers fancied that the manner the slaying was exceedingly peculiar.
But the villagers did not discuss these things with the old man and his wife, due to the habitual expression on the withered faces, and because their cottage was so small and so darkly hidden under spreading oaks in a neglected backyard. The truth was, even though the owners of cats hated these odd folk, they feared most, and instead of berating them as brutal murderers, merely took care of any 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 impotently, or console himself by thanking Fate that it was one of his children who had disappeared that way. For the people of Ulthar was simple and did not know where they came from all cats.
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 the town twice a year. In the market place they told fortunes for silver, and bought gay beads from the merchants. What was the land of these wanderers none could tell, but they were seen given to strange prayers, and who had painted on the sides of their wagons strange figures with human bodies and heads of cats, hawks, rams and lions. And the leader of the caravan wore a headdress with two horns and a curious disc between the horns.
in this singular caravan a little boy without a father or mother, but with only a tiny black kitten to cherish. The plague had not been kind to him, but had left him this small furry thing to mitigate his pain, and when one is young, one can find great relief in the lively antics of a black kitten. In this way, the boy whom the dark people called Menes smiled more often than he wept as he sat playing with his graceful kitten on the steps of an oddly painted wagon.
On the third morning of the pilgrims stay in Ulthar, Menes could not find his kitten, and sobbed aloud in the market, some villagers told him the old man and his wife, and the sounds heard in the night . And is heard these things his sobbing gave place to meditation, and finally to prayer. He stretched his arms toward the sun and prayed in a tongue no villager could understand, although not try very hard, as their attention was absorbed by the sky and the odd shapes the clouds were assuming. It was very peculiar, but as the little boy uttered his petition, seemed to form overhead the shadowy, nebulous figures of exotic things; of hybrid creatures crowned with bulls-sided discs. Nature is full of such illusions to impress the imaginative.
That night the wanderers left Ulthar, and were not seen again. And homeowners were concerned to learn that throughout the villa, there was no cat. From each hearth the familiar cat had vanished, the small and big cats, black, gray, striped, yellow and white. Old Kranon, the burgomaster, swore that the dark folk had taken the cats away in revenge for the death of Menes' kitten, and cursed the caravan and the little child. But Nith, the lean notary, declared that the old farmer and his wife were probably the most suspect, as his hatred of cats was notorious and more than bold. Despite this, no one dared to complain to the sinister duo, although Atal, the innkeeper's son, swore he had seen all Ulthar cats in the yard at dusk cursed under trees, walking slowly and solemnly in a circle around the cabin, two on one line, and performing some rite of beasts, which nothing has been heard. The villagers did not know how much to believe of such a small child, and though they feared that the evil pair had charmed the cats to their death, they preferred not to chide the old cotter till they met him outside his dark and repellent yard.
Thus Ulthar slept in a vain anger, and when the people awakened at dawn - Behold, each cat was back at his accustomed hearth! Large and small, black, gray, striped, yellow and white, none was missing. Appeared very sleek and fat, and sonorous with purring content. The citizens talked with others about the affair, and marveled not a little. Old Kranon again insisted that it was the dark folk who had taken them, since cats do not return alive from the cottage of the old man and woman. But they were all agree on one thing: the refusal of all the cats to eat their portions of meat or drink their saucers of milk was exceedingly curious. And for two whole days Ulthar cats, bright and languid touch no food, but only doze by the fire or the sun.
spent a full week before the villagers noticed that in the cottage under the trees, no lights were appearing at dusk. Then, in lean Nith remarked that no one had seen the old man and his wife since the night the cats were away. The following week the burgomaster decided to overcome his fears and call the silent dwelling as a matter of duty, but was careful to take with him as witnesses, Shang the blacksmith and Thul the cutter of stone. And when they had broken down the frail door they found only this: two cleanly picked human skeletons on the earthen floor, and a number of singular beetles crawling in the dark corners.
There was subsequently much talk among the citizens of Ulthar. Zath, the coroner, disputed at length with Nith, the lean notary, and Kranon and Shang and Thul were overwhelmed with questions. Even little Atal, the innkeeper's son, was closely questioned and as a reward, he was given a sweetmeat. Talked of the old farmer and his wife, the caravan of dark wanderers, of small Menes and his black kitten, of the prayer of Menes and the sky during that prayer, acts of the cats on the night he left the caravan, or what later was found in the cottage under the trees in the disgusting patio.
And finally, the burgesses passed that remarkable law which is referred to by merchants Hatheg and discussed by travelers in Nir, namely Ulthar that no man can kill a cat. HP Lovecraft
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