English III CP
The Cat in the Well
It was a dark night, and the stench of decaying trees filled air around Mr. Reynolds plantation. One would think that this forest was lifeless; however, the sounds of crickets and other larger insects feeding on their prey discredited that theory. Mr. Reynolds is a farmer that owns the plantation. His dwelling sits high above on a hill over looking the grotesquely gnarled trees. He was considered a recluse, other than the times he would bring in his potatoes that he harvested; today was different. Mr. Reynolds was looking for a farm hand, to help around the plantation.
"Well, young lad, this will be part of your job. You will have to come to the well and get water for the crops. I know it's a bit dark, maybe a little creepy, but the job needs to be done." As they walked briskly to the old rickety well, Mr. Reynolds addressed the young farm hand sternly.
"Have you heard the old story people would always say about this well?" He asked.
The strange, young, sickly looking boy, shook his head wincing at the closeness of the odd farmer.
"Ahh Lad, you don't talk much do yah? No, you don't."
Approaching the well, the old farmer begins to tell the terrifying story while showing the boy how to retrieve water.
"It was long ago, when a young boy went to the well to play. He had rosy cheeks and a shy smile. He walked up to the well and slowly crept over it. All he saw was darkness. As he pried on the rope, a bucket popped up with a screeching cat jumping out at whim." Mr. Reynolds was trying to frighten the lad by acting out the scene for him.
Mr. Reynolds creeps over the well and notices nothing but darkness, and he too pulls the rope. He begins to tense up his arms and legs as the bucket slowly appears above the rubble of rocks. It is so quite that you can hear both hearts synching together in the darkness. He hopes that this time his story isn't true, and the cat was just a fictional story the children would tell each other just for fun. But he didn't want to show the lad any weakness. Peering over the bucket, he notices nothing in the inside, but left over stagnate water and takes a deep breath of comfort. Mr. Reynolds too was scared the cat would take something from him, because of how he believed in the children's story. The farmer took a step back glancing at the young boy now looking bored and slightly annoyed with the old man's tall tales. Mr. Reynolds continued, with his story starring intently at the well.
"As the cat jumped out at the boy, he purred manipulatively, drawing the boy closer to him. As the boy approached, he saw that this was no ordinary cat." The farmer, Mr. Reynolds, is still explaining with his own thrill of excitement.
"The boy notices that the cat has hands and arms of a human, not paws of its own kind. But he looks so completely innocent, so the boy creeps very slowly to the cat with his hands extended. Before the boy could blink, the cat devours his face." Mr. Reynolds says as he covers his face with his hands.
"The boy lied there on the ground next to the well, and his face was no longer there, with his fascia tissue exposed to the stench filled air." He says.
There were no facial features of any kind, just a flat surface of skin.
"You could see the boys face on the cat. And so year after year, the cat makes his attempt to devour some part of every person who walks by, in order to become a person. Isn't that frightening lad?" He asks.
Looking back at the farmer, the skinny young lad slightly turns his head.
"Well Lad, the only thing the cat like man hasn't taken," Mr. Reynolds suddenly stopped talking.
Mr. Reynolds hits the ground gasping for words, for he could not explain what had suddenly happened.
Suddenly the creepy young lad speaks, "You mean a voice?"