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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2029923-Mr-Pleasant-Prologue-Voices-in-My-Head
Rated: E · Chapter · Action/Adventure · #2029923
Maybell Beth is special. Ever since she turned six she has been cursed by animals...
Prologue: Voices in My Head



"Happy Birthday!"

I blinked.

Momma had told me that there were lots of things big people knew that kids just didn't. She also said little kids like me had very "active" imaginations. But I couldn't help but wonder if the cat before me was something Momma would really understand. Or, if Garfield, the neighborhood tomcat-the cat who had just spoken to me, was really right there in front of me. Something I didn't understand. A piece of overactive imagination.

For a moment, time stopped. My little white dress was wrinkled and muddied with play, and I grasped the end of it desperately with both hands. I dug my nails through the fabric, relishing the feeling of my nails cutting into my flesh. Reality, right? In dreams, you don't feel pain...

Garfield yawned silently and rolled over onto the balls of his feet. He arched his back and clawed the green grass casually. Very normal, very catlike. I thought to myself.

I turned away from Garfield and looked back to my birthday party, noisily continuing on in my absence. A few of my friends from school waited and watched for me impatiently. Why were they waiting for me again?

I looked back at Garfield once more, his dark eyes bore into me, "Well, human kit? Aren’t you going back to your friends? I do so hope you don't keep them waiting too long. Human kits get awfully loud when they are kept waiting."

Tears stung my eyes as I whirled around, all fluttering dress and stamping feet as I made my way back to my mother's bosom.

"Momma!?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Maybell, cats don't talk. You understand?"

Momma was kneeling before me, her French-tipped nails digging slightly into the flesh of my upper arms. Pain. This was real. Right?

"Yes ma'am." I felt myself nod numbly.

"Good, now repeat after me sweetheart. ‘Cats don't talk.' Now say it." Momma's hazel eyes flashed slightly as I recited the words perfectly. “Cats don't talk.”

"Good girl, now Momma is gonna’ go make us something good to eat. Sound good? How about some tuna fish and pringles for a snack?" A smile tugged at the corner of my lips and Momma took it as a sign of getting over this whole mess. My birthday party went over just fine, but afterward Momma had gotten very upset with me when I told her about Garfield. She said lying was bad, but I wasn't a liar, and I told her so. I should have lied to her then, and said I was a liar. Momma talked to me a long time, I didn't understand much, but I nodded anyway.

Momma's heals left the carpet and began to click loudly in the kitchen around the corner, I felt myself sink down into the leather couch. Daddy didn't like us eating on the furniture but when Momma was upset or when I was sick we ate on the couch anyway.

A rapid click, click, click made me look up at the clear back doors. I turned onto my knees and peered over the back of the leather couch. The backyard was still bright with afternoon sunshine, wind chimes tinkered their songs. The chimes movements sent little flecks of colored light in all directions.

A large blue jay was perched on one of Momma's bird feeders right in front of the glass. I cocked my head to the side looking; its black eyes stared blankly for a moment before it did the same and whistled.

I giggled and turned my head the other way, the blue jay did it again. Another whistle.

"Tweeeeeet." I called laughing, finally feeling better.

Tweeeet. Tweet. The blue jay called merrily.

"Tweet! Tweet!" I sang back.

The blue jay hopped around on its perch. "Tweet. Tweet."

"Why not just talk to me normally? I do enjoy your strange noises but they merely parody such songs of my kin."

I stopped laughing. The blue jay watched me expectantly.

I looked towards the hallway and listened to Momma in the kitchen for a bit before turning back to the blue jay and leaning forward.

"Did you-did you just talk?" I whispered really low so Momma wouldn't hear. Cats don't talk. Blue jays don’t talk. Animals don’t talk.

Tweet.


(Note: this will be revised consideribly once I get feedback on the story's general feel)
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