I DO NOT OWN THE TUDORS. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO MICHAEL HIRST. I HAVE ALWAYS FELT SUCH PITY FOR KATHERINE HOWARD AND SHE SHOULD HAVE HAD A MAN WHO WOULD LOVE HER AND NOT JUST USE HER FOR THEIR OWN DESIRES. THIS IS THE 3RD STORY IN THE MY LIFE SAGA. I AM PLANNING FOR THERE TO BE 2 MORE STORIES AFTER THIS TO ROUND OUT THE SAGA.

FACE CLAIM

CHRIS KING- DACRE MONTGOMERY

BRODY KING- GRIFFIN GLUCK

Tower of London prison. London, kingdom of England. December 9, 1541.

"Death smiles on us all. All a man can do smile back."- Gen. Maximus Decimus Meridius

I know it's a quote from Gladiator, but I felt it was fitting for the moment. I'm sitting in my cell in the Tower of London as I am facing my final hours of life. I've just been returned to my cell after the Archbishop of Canterbury: Thomas Cranmer granted me a final act of mercy by letting me say goodbye to Cathy one last time.

The world may know her as Cathering Howard: the teen queen, the whore, the plaything. To me though, she was just Cathy. She was kind and fun and lively. She wanted so badly to enjoy life, to have as fun as she could, as if never ending pleasure could keep the demons thag haunted her away. Friviousness was her drug and she numbed herself as best she could to block out the pain of her past.

Even so, it pisses me off to know that people in the future will just write her off as a materialistic whore who brought the axe on her own neck; when that pig Henry VIII is the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd person that should be blamed for Cathy's death.

The people of England will know me as Thomas Culpeper: the king's groom and Catherine Howard's lover. But the truth is that my name is Christopher King and I am from the future. If this manuscript is found, it will msot likely be written off as the ramblings of a broken man, brought to lunacy by the knowledge that his death was all but assured. They can say whatever they want, I don't give a damn. But this is my story; it's a damn good story and a true one too.


Chris's Apartment. Santa Fe, New Mexico. December 21, 2024.

I grew up in Santa Fe, the capital of the American state of New Mexico; as oppose to London, the capital of the Kingdom of England. I was raised in a 3 bedroom apartment with my mom, my dad, and my little brother Brody. My dad had abandoned his family by the time i turned 13 because deadbeats gonna deadbeat, I suppose.

That had left my mom as the sole bread winner for our family and by the time she had gotten into a car crash on my 15th birthday, it was easy to see that poverty and parenthood had worn the old girl down. After that crash, my mom lost the use of her legs and from that point on, me and my brother were basically left to our own devices while she embraced the lows of alcoholism.

I didn't really mind being Brody's primary caregiver, we had always been thick as thieves ever since he was born. Plus, I had to admit that I was luckier than most older siblings because unlike most little brothers and sisters who are real pains in the ass, Brody was never that way.

Anyway, my story begins 5 days before Christmas in the year 2024. I had just finished a shift at the local library where I made the majority of money that my family had to spent. Brody worked at McDonald's to make up whatever more he could.

"Is mom here?" I asked as I walked in the door to find my brother doing some vocabulary homework at the kitchen table.

"Hell no, she wheeled herself down to Badger's tavern to score some more booze; her disability check came in the mail." Brody remarked as he had a harder time dealing with mom drinking up what money she got from the government than I did. I didn't like it, but I knew damn well that there was no point in quarreling with her over the matter. Brody on the other hand, always picked fights with her over the drinking and it got tiresome because she just tuned him out.

"I'm going to netflix and chill." I told my brother as I went into my bedroom and shut the door. I let our a sigh as i pulled out a copy of The Tudors. The showtime version was by far my favorite adaptation of the story of Henry VIII and his 6 wives; historically inaccuracies aside. As I started to bineg watch the series, I decided to pull out a package I had received from a good friend of mine: Tommy Schulze.

Tommy had been a childhood friend and a pretty good one to have. We'd gone to the same high school but after mom's car accident, i'd dropped out my senior year to support us. Tommy had decided to do college abroad in Paris, France. I heard stories that he had gone missing one night after hanging out with his girlfriend; who had pleaded with the French press to help her find him. It crossed over to the US because another American who had been a friend of his, Nolan Ayers, had vanished before.

He had mailed me a package the day before his disappearance and i'd never had the heart to open it until now. I found some clothing from the university as well as a pack of joints with a note from Tommy; telling me that the brand was Mexican Joker and that Nolan had turned him onto it before he vanished. Normally, I wasn't one for smoking weed, but I decided to light up as a favor to my missing friend.

As I lit up and shut up, I kept watching as the show went from Cathrerine of Aragon, to Anne Boelyn, to Jane Seymour, to Anne of Cleves, to Catherine Howard. She was by far the queen that i felt the most pity for. Catherine Howard had been 17 when she went off to English court. She had not been prepared to be a wife to Henry VIII, not to mention that every single man in her life had treated her like a sex doll. As I stsrted to fall asleep by the time Henry married Catherine Parr, I wished desperately that Catherine Howard could have found a man who loved her as she deserved to be.

REVIEWS NEEDED AND APPRECIATED.