FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Everything you want to know about Cheshires...that they want to keep secret

---

** ** In our lives we move from one second to the next with only a passing cognizance of everyday objects. We see the parts that make up the whole of these objects in the same fashion. The walls of the room I sit in while making a permanent record of my story are easily seen as my fingers hesitantly move from button to button using individual letters to form whole words. It is the same for the chair I sit and squirm uncomfortably in because I am unused to long periods of inactivity. The desk my arms rest on as my fingers move is as solid as the walls or the chair but while I know it is there it is an awareness that rests in the back of my mind. If the desk were to move or the chair to break as I sit in it then that awareness would be firmly placed in the front of my mind. Since they haven't I am only truly aware of them because I am thinking about them as I put forth my thoughts on how we take even the most solid of objects for granted. While I type I am aware of the desk in ways I have not thought of while merely knowing it was there. I feel how the fur on my arms shifts when I move. I notice the uniform color of the wall behind the monitor while I am looking at the words slowly appear on the screen in front of me. I hear the pivot joints in the chair whisper as I squirm periodically trying to find a comfortable position. I mention this because there is one object I will never take for granted again. It resides in both the front and back of my mind at all times. It rests in the front of the back of my mind and in the back of the front of my mind. All of my other thoughts must swerve around this one singular thought. Transitory notions redirected by a permanent concept about an object that changed my life forever.

This object is seen every day and is used more often than it is seen. It can be long or short and narrow or wide. Sometimes the name this object is called by changes by its use or by its size but no matter what it is called it is still this simple basic object. Simply put this object is called a pole. The pole can be found holding up signs of all types as well as lights that provide illumination. It can also be found inside of buildings as a support structure whether inside a wall or in an inconvenient place between two isles in a department store. Poles are even the butt of jokes though this type of pole is not an object but a people who are the subject of racism for the sake of humor. This type of humor sickens me because it is demeaning as well as insulting. To make fun of a different ethnicity or species in such an impersonal and insulting way is disgusting. I absolutely loathe racist jokes and will not tolerate them in anyway what so ever. Racism smacks of separation and elitism. It speaks of thoughtless feelings of superiority brought about by mindless arrogance. It is the epitome of stupidity at its worst. Though they will manipulate it for their own ends my kind has a particular view on racism, discrimination and anything else of a like nature. If one must prove oneself superior to anyone else then that person is the inferior entity.

Contrary to how it must read what I typed just now is relevant to my story. It is the reason why something as simple as a pole figures so prominently in my thoughts. The pole is the symbol by which an inferior few are singled out by the superior majority. Not as a weapon though that has been the case a few times but as something used to confine someone to one place so they can easily be punished, tortured or executed. Poles were used to prevent victims of corporal punishment from falling to the ground in agony as they were whipped. When one was available for use it was a pole that a condemned man was tied too before he was executed by a firing squad. Execution by impalement is the most extreme example I can think of mentioning that involves using only a pole with nothing else attached to it. A crude pole stuck in the ground bound the women who were burned at the stake because they were convicted of being witches in the Salem Witch Trials making it the most horrific example of the four. I can even mention a show named after a cleaning chemical that I have watched every now and then. This show features a bumbling idiot with a name that sounds like it should belong to an irritation preventative named by a young child. This clueless moron is incapable of learning a new fighting technique without getting his ass handed to him in several battles. At the end of the third season there is a woman or a girl, I know not which, who is going to be executed for some silly law she was found guilty of breaking to save her life and that of the idiot who caused the problem she solved by breaking this law. What she is suspended from is not an object made up of more than one pole. However the ridiculously large halberd used for executions called the Sokyoku is a weapon made of a blade attached to a pole. Itchy-Go all too easily halts this insanely large and supposedly powerful weapon that has claimed the lives of lesser and greater Shinigami in the animated show called Bleach.

If the point of all this babble hasn't made it obvious by now then I shall just come out and say it. I myself was bound to a pole for my own execution. A pole was the end result of my kind passing judgment over me. I was the inferior minority to their superior majority. It signifies the end of one life and the beginning of another. It is with my own execution that my story truly starts because how I survived is also why I have the time to write it all down. I am guilty of murdering one of my own in a society that values the life of their own kind more than any other race I know of. In all honesty though my crime merely gave them the excuse they needed to be rid of the problem I represented. In a race that views itself as the elite of the exemplary a flawed individual such as myself brings to light the lie they believe in. To them it does not matter if this flaw makes me faster and stronger than them. It is irrelevant that it took nine of them to bring me down. That they would have failed if I were not so intent on ending the life of the Cheshire who killed the woman I love. As a Cheshire I am a failure and therefore I was less than superior.

If I were writing this history of my life for any other reason than just to pass the time I would now tell anyone who would read this not to worry. The events of my life before my execution will be made known. How they will be made known is also why the perspective of the story will change from the first person to that of the third. The reason for this will be made apparent very shortly after I am executed and should satisfy the theoretical reader's needs. Also since I want this story I have lived to be accurate as possible I will try to be as straight forward as possible. This cannot always be the case however since the Cheshire mentality is as convoluted as the games they play with their toys. With that being said I would ask those that would possibly read this to think on this. It was only a few decades before they found out I lived yet they did nothing because the lies I told hid my heritage behind my heritage. I used fiction as my fact and turned fact into fiction. By protecting their secretive existence I protected myself from their retribution. By hiding out in the open I kept them from taking the chance on making that secret known. Above all it must never be known that Cheshires exist.