• The information I had received was that of a man who was famous… that is… in any other’s world, but mine. He had made novels I never read, composed music I never listened to, and, from time to time, made inventions, I never seen, nor cared to use. He was known and cherished by all, but obscured to me.
    Although at first being chilled by the very mention of his name at first, I was now eager to meet the man, now at least knowing more about him. Besides, it would make me feel more caught up with the ardor of the family members, who were so eager to see him, some being old friends, some being new, and I was going to be able to meet this man for the first time.
    Within a month’s passing, the reunion began. I arrived when most of the members had already shown up.
    The reunion was certainly bigger than the others I had been to, which was implying something, the deluge of people being so immense, one could hardly breathe; however, there was a bounty of food, drink, and activity, and it was fun to be with the more richer parts of the family, as well as the more common, whom I had been detached from for quite a long while, including young Tim, being the young, and enthusiastic man he was, who was eager to see both me and Forrest Krauser, whom he had apparently already seen a number of times, but he also seemed just as ardent to greet me to Forrest Krauser.
    It was not too long after my arrival that an old fashioned car had advanced onto an empty spot in the front of the parking lot. The music stopped, the talking gradually dulled to a hushed mumble, the crowd of people pushed their way toward the car, crowding around it, leaving a small half-circle around the back door, allowing the rider to exit, me and Tim had managed to squeeze to the front of the crowd, both of us curiously looking at the doors, which I found strange for Tim, acting as if he had know lesser of the man as I, till the door finally cracked open, I tried to push past Tim, filled with even more interest, and I saw a sad, wan, stick of a figure practically crawl out of the car as if it were a spider, much too tall to ride in a car it was inside of, and the figure, as if I was the only one there, instantly walked towards me. No! Not walked, this figure crept, as if leg movement was not natural to it, and such skinny legs to creep with, only supporting an even more emaciated body, with two, thin arms attached to it, tucked behind him, as if a parent would do, hiding a gift from their child, and on top of the body, stood an oddly large, square, pointed head, with an even pointier face, so emotionless, as if stuck on its horrid expression, unable to change. The figure so tall, it had to bow down to reach my face with its own, and it gave the slightest attempt to smile, yet it was so annealed, I expected to hear the skin crack as it made the motion of its lips.
    Just then, so quietly, ever so quietly, I heard the figure speak, “The perfect one,” in a voice so taciturn, and having such a chilling tone added to it, I had to resist the instinct to shudder, his voice had a slight creak to it, yet silently came out of his mouth like ice, making him all the more unsettling. I dared to lean in closer to the figure, and tried to avoid muttering.
    “What did you say?” I asked, feeling a quiver almost grasp my voice over, yet I somehow held it back; however, the thing blinked at me unresponsively, that strained smile stuck on its face, and stood up, showing its striking height, and walked past me, and entered through the center of the crowd, as if it had said nothing.