The Hat and His Man

A short story I wrote for a competition. A queer little story. Quite interesting though.

I know of a man who had a hat. That is to say I know of a hat who had a man. Pure velvet with a silk red tail, the hat sat proudly upon the man’s head. It was said, well it was as I know it, that the key to the man’s hat lie within his soul. When in actual fact it is the other way around; the key to the man’s soul lie within the man’s hat.

I was walking down Bakewell street this morning when I saw the oddest thing peering at me through an old shop window. A hat. Pure velvet with a silk red tail.

Beautiful even if a little dusty. Just like me. I am 50 years old yet the spring in my step is still there. My name is Gracie. I wondered if I should ask the shopkeeper where he came to acquire such a delicate piece of clothing.

I walked up to the old oak door of the queer little shop. There was no sign up to indicate whether the shop was open or closed. I pushed on the door a little and it creaked open. I was drawn to the perfect hat. I reached over to touch the silk of the tail. A shadow fell over my left shoulder.

"My hat?" I would recognize that voice anywhere. A flash of my childhood flooded into my mind. A little girl with a tall man, a hat perched upon his head. Two queens and a white cat with the most startlingly blue eyes. I turned around and saw recognition light up the strangers face.

"Gracie," he whispered "come, come you must follow me!"

42 years earlier
A flash of light echoed across the valley and illuminated a little girls face.
"Are you sure we are going the right way?" she asked the man who was sitting, cross-legged on the grass before her.

"Positive, now stop complaining!" he shouted his hair turning a fiery red colour. His eyes grew and turned a deep burgundy, almost black.
"I’m sorry,! Rushed the girl.

"No, no I shouldn’t have shouted and got myself all worked up like that, it is I that is sorry." Then in one abrupt movement the wacky man stretched and got up reaching towards the sky.

"I should like to touch the stars one day," the girl added following his gaze to the night sky. It was a beautiful sight.
"Gracie?"
"Yes..."

"May I ask you a question? For I have been trying so very hard to work it out myself yet I have come to no apparent conclusion,"
"Go on,"

"How is a Blackbird like the stars in the sky?"
"I have no Idea how a Blackbird is like the stars in the sky, why do you ask?" said Gracie turning her delicate face up towards the man she sat with. Her face holding a puzzled look.

"The thought came to mind," he answered dismissively. Gracie spread out on the soft grass and closed her eyes, knowing that no harm would come to her with the man watching over her. The she wondered, why did the man never take off his queer old hat?

Gracie awoke the next morning to find the man gone, all that was left was his hat and a note stuck to it.

To find your friend

And bring him back,

Look for something,

Always Black...

It was a riddle. Something always Black. The conversation of the night before flooded back into my mind, how is a Blackbird like the stars in the sky? A BLACKBIRD! But how, and which one, there must be a million and more Blackbirds in the forest alone. BANG!!!! A shot went off in the distance, a caw came from a dying bird and in that instant Gracie knew. A Blackbird had been killed. Gracie rushed to the area that the sound came from, and there it was, the Blackbird lying dead. On top of it was a note, in the same handwriting before.
Each moment you take
Will waste time
A life will be taken
Each hour past nine

Then that must mean it was nine o’ clock. A life will be taken each hour past nine. Starting with the blackbird.

Gracie walked for what seemed an eternity and even ran a little way before she heard the second sound of a gun being shot, this time it wasn’t an animals’ scream she heard. It was human. When Gracie found the place that the shot had been fired it was dark, she was alone in the woods and vulnerable. She ripped a piece of material from the bottom of her dress and tied to a stick. Then set it alight. What she saw before her was not a pretty sight. A man with the brightest of red hair laid on the ground, covered in blood. Her friend.

"NOOOO!" She screamed falling to the ground beside him, her tears splashing his face, washing away all the blood.

"Shhhh," she heard him whisper lightly. He lifted his hand to gently touch her face. She took it in both of hers.

"who are you?" she asked the wonderful man, her friend, her companion.
"The Hatter...." he answered struggling for breath.
"well Hatter how is a Blackbird like the stars in the sky?" Gracie asked through her tears.

"I have truly no idea," replied the Hatter so quietly Gracie had to bend to hear him fully. Then the Hatter took his last, jagged, breath. His hand dropped over his chest. Gracie closed his eyes and he looked peaceful, like he was asleep. She placed his hat proudly upon his head, let it lay there forever more.

42 years later

The Hatter led me through a window in the shop. It was the place were 42 years before I had left the Hatter.

"Because you live I live, but I cannot live forever. Let me go." He said simply
"Goodbye," I whispered. And then he was gone.