"...a flaw in my map..."

There was a cherry wood desk about six feet by five in a darkened room, the only light a lamp. The lamp stood sentry, hanging brightness over a shadowy person.

He was sitting in a chair which resembled a cape, in that it seemed to drape over his stature. And by the desk the person leaned over, several papers and photographs were scattered about which he was looking intently at. Near the front of the edge of the desk, was a prim, glass, block with the title: "Principal Monsieur Grey" etched into it. To the left and right of the grand name plate, several meticulous, tidy, piles of paper --varying from two feet to five in height -- resided on each side.

The opposing force that faced the desk was spread across with a varied assortment of books both young and old, dusty and dusted, thick and thin. The wall that the bookshelf and the desk shared between them was occupied by a single perfectly equilateral window exactly in the center. All one could see was black darkness outside, as if trees or some other compulsion blocked the view of the night from coming in.

A small, scratching sound that lasted but a second, was heard in the room, though the man at the desk did not stir in his seat where he was contemplating what was set before him. If one were to stand in front of the desk, there could be seen in the corner to the left of it a thin pole about four feet high with horizontal poles at intervals of a foot attached. On top of the pole sat another horizontal pole, where sat a brown monkey. Mind most people call chimpanzees or gorillas monkeys, but this one was a real monkey. If one can call a cyberanomatronic monkey "real".

"Hmmmmm..." came a slow, long, thinking contemplation uttered from the man sitting at the desk.

The one thing that had consumed Mister Grey's entire attention was a certain photograph he held clutched in his hands, a pondering gaze on it. The picture beheld an old, brown house with gaping holes in it. There were cracks down the door, broken windows, breaches in the siding of the doors, ruptures like little black voids in every plank of wood. In short, the house itself was in great disrepair. Gnarled, twisted, bare trees surrounded and enclosed the two story house on all sides. Kudzu vines clung to the wooden framing, possibly the only thing keeping the building standing. Tall green, brown, beige, and red weeds overgrew the plot and managing to crowd up to the base of the dirty planks, wept over and on the porch. The sky was a condemning, bleak color.

To look once and this was all one would see, but staring closer, and amid the tall reeds and weeds, was a tom cat that blended in quite well with its surroundings, but for a red blotch on the cheek and mouth; an impertinent and opulent manner in its posture. It was in mid-motion heading for the porch, and its head turned to look at whoever might have been taking the photograph at the time, no time for any sort of expression to cross its features.

Mr. Grey shuddered and finally looked up from the picture, then turned his eyes to the report that went with the image.

. . . Report . . .

Report on Code Named: DB 343

Field agent Spy

Time: Some time in the afternoon (I lost my watch earlier in the day)

I was on an unrelated mission when I came upon a flaw in my map. I was stealthily maneuvering Woods ZW and I saw light ahead. As I thought this related to my current position, I moved forward. I came closer, and found a semi-clearing with the contents of Picture A. Luckily, I had my no-flash, no-sound, all-light conditoned camera, standard spy issue B-678. Entranced, or bespelled, I took my camera out and managed to capture the pictures attached. The last one I took, P-A, has a light, sandy cat creature towards the central part of the image; it looked directly at me when I took this picture, of that I have no doubt. I will not waste precious space trying to describe my inexplicable fear and actions. I just knew I needed to get of there. I moved backward, and the cat took a step towards me. I grabbed my camera tighter and high-tailed it outa there, remembering to cover my tracks. Somewhere between there and about half way through Woods ZW, the cat jumped in front of me, slicing my arm that was not holding the camera (my left). Fortunately, I was still able to keep my things and made it out without further encounters.

. . . Report end . . .

Signed at the bottom was the field agent's spy name signed in cursive. Of course it would be silly to sign your real name.

The signature was what Mister Grey was now currently intrigued by. Ringing a bell that was previously unnoted, he simply stated to the person who came to his now open door, "Please send in student Jake Smith. I would like to talk with him about his... grades." Smiling, he watched as the person left and closed the door. He shuffled and straightened the mess directly in front of him and placed it all into an obscure drawer that melded into the same wood covering upon being shut. Then looked expectantly at the space in front of his desk, now occupied by a chair and started humming a discreet song while waiting.

FIN

883 words total. O.O

M-4-M: Well, this was a free style writing piece for my Creative Writing Class. n.nU We were supposed to write three pages or seven hundred and fifty words in a story that included a scary house and an animal somehow. I thought it turned out really neat. n.n Ta ta for now! n.n