| The Boy Who Drew Cats -- by Kurtis Scaletta |
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One day when Peter was ten he was given a sealed envelope and sent home early from school. As he left, the schoolmaster reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Good bye, and good luck to you,” he said. The schoolmaster had lectured him for a long time, but Peter hadn’t been listening, so it was only then he realized he was being kicked out of school. He met his father as he returned from the fields where he worked. “I’m supposed to give you this,” Peter said, handing the envelope to his father, who opened the letter and read it in the dim light of dusk before they even went inside. “You’ve been kicked out of school,” he said. “This says all you do all day long is draw cats.” He turned the envelope over. “There are even cats on the envelope.” Peter hung his head. They went inside and his father made dinner. Peter took the letter his father had dropped on the table, reached into his pocket for a stub of pencil he’d stolen from the schoolmaster’s desk, and drew cats on the back of the letter. “You’ve been warned so many times,” his father said over supper. “Last time they said it was your last chance.” “I know.” Peter had tried to pay attention in class but it was no use. The teachers were dull, his classmates slow, and the cats wanted so badly to be drawn. “I don’t know what to do,” his father said, tears welling up in his eyes. Peter wanted to explain about the cats wanting to be drawn, the itch in his fingers to make them real. “Tomorrow you can come to the farm with me,” his father said. “Maybe hard work is what you need.” *** They woke up early the next morning and set out for the fields. Peter’s father showed him the difference between a green shoot and a weed, then sent him off down the long row of seedlings to pull the weeds. It was dull work and made his back ache, so Peter took a break at the end of the first row. There was a patch of mud there, and a little tree. Peter broke off a long twig and began to draw in the mud. He drew a cat. The stick was not as good as a pencil, and the mud was not as good as white paper, but he liked the fact that his cat was not constrained by the boundaries of a page. So often he felt like he was shrinking his cats down and putting them in boxes. Now he felt free to make the cat as large as it wanted to be, and free to roam if it came to life. He lost all track of time and circumstances while he worked, and put the final touches on his cat just as the sky turned orange and his father came to get him. It was time to go home. “The farmer was watching you,” his father said. “All day long, you were idle. He won’t have you back.” “I understand,” said Peter. He didn’t like the work anyway. His father didn’t say another word until after dinner. “Without school or work, there’s nothing for you to do. I will have to send you to the monastery, but I can’t bear the thought of losing you... I already lost your mother.” His father coughed and began to cry. Peter reached out to touch his father’s elbow. He couldn’t think of anything to say, and found his fingernail tracing the faint outline of a cat on his father’s arm. *** The monastery was far away, and Peter and his father had to walk all day and all night. When they arrived, his father begged the brothers to take him. “He’s a clever boy and might make something of himself,” his father said. “Please give him a chance. Perhaps a quiet life of reflection and prayer is what he needs.” The brothers accepted him, and when they found he had a talent with a pen set him to work transcribing sacred books. Peter meant to do well, but when one of the brothers came to check on him he found Peter had barely finished a single verse. The rest of the precious vellum was covered with cats. “Wasteful boy!” the monk admonished him. Peter said he was sorry, but the harm had been done. The monastery gave him lunch and sent him home. The journey was too far to walk in a day, but Peter thought he could take a shortcut through the woods. He soon lost his way, and as the sky grew dim he realized he would never get back to the road before dark. He came upon a stone house in the middle of the woods. It was a crude dwelling, with listing walls and no windows. He banged on the door but nobody answered. A terrible noise sounded from nearby in the woods. Peter tried the door and found it unlocked. He went in, lit a lamp on the table, and looked around. There were bones scattered on the floor. The table was thick with congealed grease. Whoever lived here was a slob, but at least he was safe from whatever howling creatures were outside. He searched the pantry and found nothing to eat, but Peter had taken some ink and a pen from the monastery—he’d taken it on impulse—and now set about drawing cats on the walls of the mean little house. He worked until the lamp was low on oil and the walls were covered. There was a terrible noise from outside; the same bestial wailing he’d heard before. The creature was close by. Peter leaped across the room and shut himself in the pantry just as the door swung open. “Who’s been in my home?” a low voice growled. “I hope he’s still here, because I’m still hungry!” Peter heard two heavy footsteps coming towards him. There was a screeching, as terrible as anything he had ever heard or imagined, and the sound of tooth and claw on flesh. The same low voice wailed again and again over the slashing and tearing. Peter covered his ears and waited for it to end, but the terrible sounds continued long into the night. He must have slept, because he awoke still sitting in the pantry, his body stiff and sore. He pushed the pantry door open a crack and peered out. There was fresh blood on the walls. Peter pushed the door all the way open and saw, lying on the floor, the dead body of a savage troll. Its body was ripped to shreds, its fleshed picked off of its bones. Peter picked up the club the troll used to carry, now lying a few feet from its hand. His cats were on the walls, but not the way he’d drawn them—they seemed to have moved. There was one he’d drawn on the far wall that was now on the wall by the door. Its eye seemed both fierce and knowing. “Thank you, friends,” he said as he left the stone house. He found his way out of the woods and returned to the city. When the people saw him with the dead troll’s weapon, he was greeted as a hero, for the troll had terrorized the area for years, and had taken many lives. Peter was given a banquet, and given a bounty of gifts, enough to support himself and his father for many lifetimes. He returned home with his treasures, and spent the rest of his days painting. He became a famous artist, known for his lifelike portrayals of cats.
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Hey PB,
Interesting, guess that proves that we should not judge anyones talents, no matter how odd, they may come in handy at some situation! We love you PB, you amazing, and insane... with a touch of secrets, and drizzled in chocolate. My favorite combonation! Hehe... Keep hiding! Crystal out of the darkness and into the light
no matter how dark or dismal, the outcast does not shy
away from what made him a mess, thy passion ne'er die. they told him he had problems, a feline addiction but he stayed strong, kept moving on, ne'er gone into submission They cast him off, "Away with Ye!", his drawing caused him pain and strife no job, no friends, no education, can't comfort father with wife gone, gone, gone, he is to find a job and live a normal life. And in a hut, a mean old shack the tickling, tingling coming back cats are drawn, o'er walls and floors on windowsill and on the floors for rumbling, bumbling, grumbling trolls to meet their fate, and the bells toll. Morn now here, a glance around, lo and behold, no trolls are found!! they were his burdens, now his friends, on happy notes, the story ends Rowan Hood has spoken corrections and typos
LINE 2: ne'er supposed to be never. same with LINE 4.
LINE 6: i meant 'without wife' LINE 11: i meant doors instead of floors i think that's it. Rowan Hood has spoken. Sorry!
I might have ALMOST let it slip that I was reading the series(But I'm not. What series? Don't be silly. You must have heard me wrong) But luckily, the Midnight Sun hasn't kidnapped me or something!(Not that there IS a Midnight Sun, I have no idea what your talking about)
...
this is such a great story, even tho i hate cats
. i told this to my little bro and he almost peed in his pants. hah. Yoi! Good!
Watashi wa pītā ga taiho sa reru ka, matawa nani ka ga, jissai ni yoi koto ga okotta nodarou to omoimashita! Kare no tame ni yoi! Ippō, watashi wa hontōni bōryoku-tekina kotodearu to owaru koto o kōryo shite inai.
Kōki: Dono yō ni watashi no nihongo wadesu ka? Watashi wa himitsu shirīzu no 3-banme no hon kara sore o eta. Translation: I thought that Peter was going to be arrested or something, but actually a good thing happened! Good for him! On the other hand, i don't really consider that ending to be that violent. P.S. How's my Japanese? I got it from the third book of the Secret Series. SECRET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
i love your books! PLEEEEEEEEEEZE KEEP ON WRITING MORE! AND MORE AND MORE AND MORE AND MORE AND MORE AND MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love your books!
...
I also love the books! I mean, books? What books? That story was pretty good too, I'll have to tell it to my little sis, XXXXX.
...
Oh, by the way,this is the first time I've ever logged on to this site and I love it! I'm kind of new here.
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I ♥ your WRITING and I am going crazy for the release of the next PIECE OF WRITING!!!!!
Oh, and I told The Boy Who Drew Cats to my little brother. Result: He ran out the door screaming. Great fun! When life gives you Skittles, chuck them at people and tell them to taste the rainbow! Creepy...
This sounds like me, except I draw monsters... Lets just say my teacher got mad because my final exam was covered with evil looking dragons and monsters with sharp teeth....
Wow
This is where we learn to never hinder anyone's gifts, no matter what form they come in. Because you never know one day it could be that gift that saves your life.
the name of this title is secret![]() im new to this site too. i got the books in june and am already on book 4. i cant stop reading them they re so good !i love you pb!i think bosch is pietro. CANNOT WAIT FOR BOOK FIVE!
First of all,
CANNOT WAIT FOR BOOK FIVE! I am a tiny writer and i hope to soon get my book published, although I am hardly three chapters into it. It was inspired by Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, and just plain magic. If there are any other writers posting comments, most likely begging for the fifth book (I'm with ya there), I would love to talk. Exchange tips. Thanks, Anonymous Author thenameofthistitleissecret
Can't wait for book 5 in the (secret) series!
PS. love the story! PPS. PB, make the fifth story a good one this time!!!!(Just kidding Love always, THE name OF this PERSON is SECRET ...
Hi Anonymous Author. I'm an aspiring author too
and I write about animals, people, magic, and EVIL. You rock PB and I love your books. I just started reading them in july and Im halfway through the series Anonymous Author
Yo Anonymous author
I am also an aspiring author Thats great that you want to write but my advice to you is DONT USE HARRY POTTER AND PERCY JACKSON AS INSPIRATION!!!! So many people have done that and FAILED! also I have read both H.P and P.J and to be honest I don't see why everyone loves them so much I believe you should read what you want to read and what intrests YOU not just every one else reads AWESOME![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() [jamar/quote] Lol Awesome story. BTW PB FOREV And By The Way PB XxxxxX XXXXxxX XXXXxxxxX translation midnight sun have got ur location hide asap or have they? More pleaaaase!!!
I love this series, and I really wish that there would be a sixth, I would like more of an ending but the book was still awesome!!! Thanks pb! K like the cat story too
...
@WANTFRIEDCHICKEN: How is she an idiot? That was a beautiful poem. And by the way, I just reported your comment.
YUM
I love eating chocolate chip cookies over a good story
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() jk but I WANT COOOOOKIES[img=[img][img][img][img][img][img][img][img][quote][quote][ quote][quote][quote][/quote][/quote][/quote][/quote][/quote]] LOLL :D
Wow...A-M-A-Z-I-N-G
aND I ABSOLUTLY CANT WAIT FOR THY FIFTH BOOK IN THY SERIES srry...i always say thy...force of habit kakes thx lots BIIIIIIII Great story
nice job i love this story cuz i love cats
to those who are wondering: i asked pb at his book signing camp thing and he hints he will make a sixth book cant wait!! hey people
i hope you know that pb has an email its in the do not contact
like This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it '> This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it if you have question, go on, ASK HIM! Good Story
(No, I'm not telling you my name. This is a good story. Wish I could get famous like that!
Author.
The story shows that author would be a intellectual and thinker as well.So i must appreciate and encourage to author to write such a stuff again.
here`s a message 4 U!
i liked the story but there was no suspense, no tension, no scariness. Plus here is a message for PB I would loooove if yu make a movie about your books! If you do then I would loooove to be Cass! P.S. Or maybe just make more books!
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Interesting, guess that proves that we should not judge anyones talents, no matter how odd, they may come in handy at some situation! We love you PB, you amazing, and insane... with a touch of secrets, and drizzled in chocolate. My favorite combonation! Hehe... Keep hiding! Crystal

that story was brill i really enjoyed it also thanks rowan for the poem it was great 
















