"Whitley Strieber - Cat Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strieber Whitley)

тАЬFour.тАЭ

Something tickled inside the frog. It was terrible, this feeling, like nothing else the frog had known, tickling
under its skin, like water spiders running there. The frog tried to move, to escape the tickling, but the
weight seemed to bear down the more. Fear made its eyes bulge.

тАЬThree.тАЭ

It was as if the frog were being torn apart. It had a vision of talons, of huge whistling wings.
Death came to it then, and its heart slowed.

The smell of water rose up around the terrified creature, then became a vision, water in darkness. The
talons let go, and the frog fell into the quiet water, then it was dawn and flies were rising, and the frog was
on a lily pad singing up the sun.

тАЬTwo.тАЭ

The dream sank to dark, and the frog felt itself falling into nothingness.

тАЬOne.тАЭ

The black parted, and the water dream of a moment ago lay before the frog, and this time it was real.

The frog was free. It hopped easily to the good-smelling water, and the water splashed around it and
made its skin jitter with pleasure as it dove down into a black bass pool. Reefs of tadpoles swept past
and sticklebacks darted in shafts of sunlight, then the frog went up again and broke the surface amid
blooming lilies.

тАЬWe have complete termination. It's dead, George.тАЭ

Cloaked by darkness at last, the cat began to move down the mountain. As it did, its form flickered and
grew ever more solid. When it crossed the ridge, it was a shadow of a cat, a shudder in the light, a wisp
of colder air. When it reached the edge of Maywell, it was a scampering, dark suggestion of something
quite familiar.

By the time it came into the streetlight at the comer of Indian and Bridge it was quite clearly an old black
tomcat with a torn ear and a proud, bent tail.

At least, that's what it looked tike. Animals and children, though, were not deceived. They sensed the
true shape of this vast and terrible being, and were filled with dread.

Atl over the town cats awakened and stared at darkened windows. Strays slid beneath porches or
huddled under cars. Birds stirred in their trees and dogs at their masters' feet. Here and there a napping
infant screamed. On the grounds of the Collier estate old Constance paused in her walk, closed her eyes,
and entered the immense space within herself. She knew she should try to stop Tom, but she did not.
George would manage, he was a survivor. And the poor frog!

In any case, her gesture would probably be futile. Such a deep violation of the laws of life was making
the cat awfully mad. Constance's interference wouldn't even be noticed.