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Edited on Tue Jun-26-07 10:40 AM by shadowknows69
The King of cats gathered his subjects to himself one final time.
The strange, high pitched language fluttered from his withered and cracked lips with an elegance that almost betrayed the otherworldly quality of the sounds. James had heard it used before, this amalgam of Pentecostal speaking in tongues, guttural noises that no man should make and sentences from dead languages that only forbidden scholars know. As the words flowed into existence and hung above The King as an almost real object of pure thought the reaction came in nearly an instant. It started with the feeling of energy in the air as The King increased his chanting in volume. Then simultaneously the house started to vibrate and the maddening sounds of the claws and feet on hardwood floors and digging from unseen places began. Then the eyes of a man I had called friend finally lost their last light of anything human, and it began.
I first met Christopher Stone at the age of 17. I was in the process of trying to re-assimilate myself into my lost circle of friends. They actually weren’t the ones who were lost to me so much as I was the friend they had misplaced. My group of long time childhood buddies numbered only about four and we all lived in small enough hamlets close enough to each other that familiarity shouldn’t have been compromised but it had been.
Nearly inseparable until late in our freshman year in high school, the middle of tenth grade found me in a rather intense relationship with a girl who, for whatever reason, never broke into that circle and I think that was the way I liked it. Granted the fault lies completely on my shoulders, but given the option of hanging out with the guys or continuing my experiments into my budding sexual education with Jill, well, it was no contest. This was strengthened by the fact that a group of my good buddies nearly ruined my first fevered fumblings with her while on a camping trip that we both lied to our parents to sneak to one Memorial Day weekend. Possibly the oldest burn in the book, my main group of friends from childhood happened to be camping nearby and took it upon themselves to surprise us in our tent during one of the private sessions we had snuck away for. As far as I know the only thing they might have caught a glimpse of was my naked ass throwing on a pair of pants to give chase and hopefully introduce someone to a cold lake dunking. Despite their best efforts Jill and I “sealed the deal” that weekend and they mercifully ceased their assault on us after the first attempt.
As often happens with high school romance mine ended abruptly as Jill, who was a year ahead of me, graduated in the spring of my Junior year and moved out of state to pursue school and future career opportunities. We briefly went through the motions and mirage of a long distance relationship but reality had different ideas and we officially called it quits soon after her arrival in her new world.
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