SkinWalker, Part 2

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Read Part 1 here

“My husband and I had just moved into a new house.  Our old house only had three bedrooms.  My youngest son had his own room, but the girls had been sharing a room.  They were sleeping on bunk beds.   We just wanted more space so everyone could have their own room and not be on top of one another…

The new house was a colonial.  It had a pretty, red brick exterior.  It was crumbling a bit around the base of the house, but it was minimal and this was our dream house….

I opened the door…for the first time… and I, I walked toward the staircase.  Immediately, I felt as though there was somebody standing right next to me.  I looked around but there wasn’t anyone else in the room, but me and my agent…I simply smiled at her and let things be…

So I went upstairs to look around while my agent finished up some things downstairs.  I opened the door to the last bedroom and I saw a man standing by a window on the other side of the room.  He was…like a shadow, no features…I couldn’t see his face.  He just looked like a ghost…

So, I screamed and ran downstairs.  My agent looked up at me… with this look on her face, like…what?  What?”

“Hey Kyle, I was watching this show about the paranormal last night…you know, haunted house type of stuff.”  Said Nate.  “People have these encounters with ghosts and things…and it get’s reenacted for the faux documentary.  You ever seen one of these shows?”

“Yeah, sure Nate.”  I replied. I was partially tuned in while busily tapping out an email.

“You ever notice the people they use in the reenactments?  In the crime reenactments they usually upgrade the looks of the people with the actors…It’s totally distracting…but they don’t upgrade for the ghost stories.”  Nate began to laugh.

“Kyle, you hear what I said?”  He asked.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”  I said looking up at Nate.  “Between the recurring nightmares and the cows across the street on a farm.  They kept bellowing and groaning into the early hours of the morning.”

I rubbed my eyes.  “I don’t really like cows.   And I don’t like these black cows at all –”

“Cattle, mate?”  Nate interrupted.  “…If they’re black.”

“Cows.”  I repeated firmly.

“Cattle.”  Nate’s eyebrows lowered.  “Your cows are more than likely Angus cattle, if they are black.  So cattle is the appropriate word.”

I shouted at Nate in a hushed tone.   “Black cows, cattle!  What difference does it make?  They look like black cows!  Shit!  You understood my description, so I don’t need to have a perfect label for them!”  I was vigilant about keeping any emotional outbursts in check.  They only confirmed stereotypes about violent and aggressive human behavior –  and then poof the illusion was destroyed.   My feather suit wasn’t a complete disguise.  It simply allowed me to move among the Birds with a certain degree of freedom; allowed me to be accepted as Bird on some basic level.

“Anyway, did you read this morning’s report?”  Asked Nate.  “There were a couple of sites running videos of an elderly woman getting beaten up by alleged Muslims….” Nate waved his hand. “All staged… but you would never know that by looking at the videos and content on these websites.”  His lips vibrated like a motorbike and let out an exasperated sound. “The activity on these social media sites are spiking, behind the most recent terrorist activity. ”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”  I replied sarcastically while taking a sip of coffee.  “We get another terrorist attack…and of course, these Pro-Bird-Anti-Others-wackos get to profit by pushing their propaganda…which are by the way, covered in ads….Makes you wonder, who’s the idiot here.” I set my cup down on the coaster that ran in a direct line with the other materials on my desk.

“You wouldn’t believe the stories, these guys have been coming up with lately…immigrants are criminals sponsored by the Illuminati to bring down the country….”  The sound of police sirens raced down the streets, filling the air, momentarily pushing out the normal white noise and mumbled conversations of the office.   “Other religions and alt-lifestyle citizens are spreading disease and will be responsible for the release of a rage virus…a rage virus? that isn’t even a real virus!”  Exclaimed Nate.

“But with each incident, we get these cuckoo birds standing on their social media megaphones, attracting more and more of these…I don’t want to call them loons…”  I turned my head to look past Nate.  I saw the image of a figure standing at the end of the hall.   It was faint, but I could see it.  “…because they are normal people who check you out of the grocery store, or wait in line next to you to get a coffee…”  I blinked my eyes,  looked away for a moment and then looked back again.  The figure was gone.  “…but for whatever reason, out of fear or whatever, these cuckoos are running into the streets filled with nonsensical programming, looking for the “Others.” Immigrants, humans, anything non-Bird for sure.”

“With all of this increased activity, some of the senior level guys are gonna have their knickers in a bunch.”  Said Nate.

“Nate?”

“Yeah, mate.”

“Where are you from again?  I mean where did you grow up?” I asked.

“Cleveland…Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”  I replied.

To Be Continued…

by malakhai.jonesz
(C) Copyright 2017

Post Date:  11/30/2017

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