The Cattlemans

(I don't bother describing much of the Cattlemans' appearance as the cover image of this story serves as an accompanying image (which you should view before reading) that I felt was description enough. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words) 

When I woke it was to the tone of an overly jolly voice. One of those voices that's kind of happy to the point it's creepy.

"And if you look to your right you'll see the Cattlemen's display. As you can see they're very big fans of-of cattle, so much so they even put it in their surname."

I opened my eyes, wanting to identify the voice, but everything was in a haze, from just waking up. I tried rubbing my eyes, attempting to drive away the clouds in my vision before looked up to the voice again.

God, her features were near indiscernible, I could tell she was wearing a red tie and make out her grotesquely pale, almost gray skin, but her face. The more I tried to focus on it the more out of focus it became.

"Ma'am, where am I," I asked rubbing my eyes again hoping that would help me see her more clearly.

She pivoted on one foot to face me and slowly knelt to my eye level. " Why, you're at The Emporium of Maniacal Refuge.", she said in that overly jolly, sing-songy voice of hers, "Think stronghold for those of us deemed dangerous to society."

I desperately needed more answers than that but the distortion of her face was beginning to trigger a migraine. So, I held my tongue and allowed her to resume the "tour". She began to saunter forward extending her hand to the next "display" when she was interrupted by a hollow, husk voice.

"Stop. We want the boy," the voice was low and slow and made all my hairs stand on end. I didn't like this place, I didn't like this place at all, "bring him to us."

"Well look at that, the Cattleman don't usually take kindly to strangers, but they seem to like you."

"I'm not exactly certain how I feel about that."

The lady in the red tie looked down at me, obviously offended. "To be approved of by the Cattlemans is a great honor, you should be proud." Her tone had taken on a layer of poignancy and she prodded me forward.

Mrs. Cattleman held her hand forward, "Come don't be shy, boy."

Then my arm was extending to meet hers. I don't know why. I certainly didn't want this, but I couldn't help it. It's as if my body had no choice. Mrs. Cattleman twirled me around and sat me in her lap.

"Now open your mouth." I tried with all my might to resist but I couldn't disobey the soothing tones of her raspy voice and as my mouth opened Mr. Cattleman gestured forward his hand, gently pressing a cold glass full of milk to my lower lip.

My mind was racing trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Drink the milk," they both began to chant slowly, "drink the milk" they kept repeating over and over getting subsequently louder as I struggled to swallow the quickly flowing stream of liquid pouring down my throat. As the final drop of milk drizzled from the class they each released me.

I wanted to get up. I wanted to run, but the trauma of everything that had just happened weighed on me like a brick wall preventing me from going anywhere. Then Mr. Cattleman's husk voice cut into my daze.

"Well, what are you waiting for boy? You're free to leave."

I slowly stood attempting to walk away but my mind still didn't want to reconcile what had happened and as I began to move, all the bricks came tumbling down on top of me and I collapsed. I laid there on the ground knowing I wouldn't be getting up soon as I felt my consciousness steadily slip away.

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When I woke it was to the tone of an overly jolly voice. One of those voices that's kind of happy to the point it's creepy...