The Tutster

King Tut was my first cat. He didn’t like me very much at first. Later, when I fed him every day, he changed his mind.

The Tutster was barely two years old when I began dating Anne. I remember him lying on the window sill, his big tail moving side to side as he indicated that he didn’t like me very much. I just kept petting him every chance I got.

Miss Anne and I married about two years after we met. She and the Tutster moved in with me and I began feeding the kitty. Yes, it made a big difference. Soon, Tut was my cat, I his human.

Kitties are strange animals. They like those that like them. Tut soon learned that I more than liked him, I loved him. He came to accept me slowly, but when he did, it was for ever.

Eric'sWeb

Spirit Children of Tall Oaks II

I began my walk earlier tonight than usual and it was not yet dark when I reached the place where I saw last night’s spirits. I nevertheless approached the bottom where the creek goes under the road with anticipation, and with caution.

I didn’t get a good look at the two beings last night but I think they were boys, about ten or eleven. The more I have thought about what I saw, the more my mind is playing tricks on my memory. I am now convinced that what I saw were two Edmond, Oklahoma ghost boys that use the creek as a conduit to move from place to place without detection.

I had my trusty digital Nikon in my pocket this evening and took a picture of the tree-covered low spot where the creek goes under the road. Even though darkness had yet to totally fall, the picture turned out completely black, except for a few spots of circular light.

What light remained, as I rounded the corner and began walking up the hill to my house, was disappearing fast. There was something sitting in the road in front of me - a large black cat that I had never before seen. The cat ambled into a culvert under the street.

Tomorrow, I will begin my walk a little earlier so I can capture a picture of the place where I saw the two ghosts, or later so that I might catch another glimpse of the spirit boys. Even if I don’t see them, maybe I’ll get a picture of the black cat that lives in the culvert.

Fiction South