Yamamoto's picture


The day slowly transformed into night as I lay in bed, the dull sound of the chainsaw running outside as Russell worked continued. I could not help, but find myself eventually lulled to sleep by its soft, dull, roar. My sleep though, was not that was completely without a restless spirit hanging over my every movement as I tossed and turned, constantly being bothered by what was a soft tapping sound at the window. I tried to ignore it, but it only got worse and very soon that soft tapping transformed into angry sound of something clawing on the glass. It was like someone taking a file and running it down a blackboard, and it finally grew so bad that I wasn’t able to lay there and listen the assault on my ears any longer.

Sitting up in bed I and looking towards the window, my eyes quickly found the culprit, but what I saw… was an image I couldn’t believe. Sitting in the window sill was the orange cat. Just sitting there and staring at me, its body was the only the thing I could see contrasted against the complete blackness of the moonless night behind it. Yet the beast, which is the only thing that it could be called at this moment, was no longer an ordinary animal. What looked back at me, with its tail wagging back and forth so innocently behind it, was a cat that still held the damage of having half its face removed by a gun. A nice crescent shaped chuck had been removed from the felines face. Missing form its face was one eye, an ear, and a missing nostril.

For a moment all that took over my train of thought, was that of complete and utter horror at the sight I saw before me. Leaving my first reaction to be just to hide under the covers and pretend that it was all a dream and that the existence of the cat in the window was just simply a horrible fantasy. After a few minutes, though it was a different emotion that began to direct my actions… curiosity. Slowly yet surely I peeked out of the covers, with my eyes looking towards the window, only to find the haunting visage of the cat was no longer there. Which caused me to let out a soft sigh, as I began to relax with a slight laugh, “Must be seeing things, oh well time to go back to sleep.”

So that was exactly what I did, as I laid back, and after about thirty minutes settled down and fell asleep, not a restful one like I had hoped. I was plagued with images of the animal I seen in the window, especially ones of it opening the window and entering the room. This image of the cat climbing up onto my bed was finally what forced me awake again, combined with a sudden pain across my face as though I had been scratched. The feeling quickly caused me to open my eyes, and I found myself face to face with the cat. Its remaining yellow eye stared directly into mine, one of its paws reached out every now and then to bat at my nose. The weight that it created on my chest felt way out of proportion to the animal making it. I could hardly breathe, nor was I able to close my eyes as it leaned in closer. My body felt like was unable to move, I was so afraid, but it wasn’t fear that held my body still… no, the answer to what was doing that was something that I could never answer.

The moment between me and the cat seemed to drag on, and it wasn’t until our noses almost touched, that it finally began to withdraw its head. Finally for a moment I was able to think straight, as I mumbled and stuttered words, “What… do you… want?” The sound of my voice induced in the animal the most disturbing reaction. It smiled... though it was no ordinary smile. It was a wide toothy grin, filled with teeth that looked more like they belonged on a human instead of a cat. The color and perfection of the smile was such that it looked like one of that little wind up teeth toys. The side of it that extended up towards the missing part of the cat’s head, was completely intact… its grin extended up into the thin air of the wound. The instant this grin crossed its face, as though to answer my question it raised its paw and slapped me across the face causing me to lose consciousness.

It was the sunshine of the next morning, coming through the window and caressing my face that woke me up. The events of the night previous were something that lingered vaguely in my mind like a blur, making wonder if they were even real or simply caused by the guilt form the cats death the day previous. I stood up out of bed slowly, and headed over to the bathroom greeted by a strange sight in the mirror that made my eyes grow wide. Across my face were two sets of scratch mark, bought bright red and looked be fresh, because they still dripped with blood. Backing away from the mirror, I began to walk through the house in a stunned state calling out, “Russell!!” My voice was shaking, as I received no answer and I moved down the hallway towards the kitchen repeating my call. It was in the kitchen, when my foot bumped into something that I finally found Russell.

The man was lying on the floor of the kitchen dead, his body covered in bite marks, where nice clean chucks had been taken out of him. They were so clean that it seemed to have done with an almost surgical precision. His gun lay near his outstretched hand that was missing multiple fingers and part of the palm. The blood form these wounds covered the floor, as did shells form the weapon showing the man had fought back. My eyes though didn’t linger here for long and where very soon draw up to counter that sat above all the carnage, where it sat… the cat. It looked back at me so innocently, just wagging its tail back and forth as though waiting for my reaction, but I had none and just stood there staring at it in shock. So suddenly it appeared again, spread across its face was that unearthly prefect smile. Only this time it wasn’t white, but instead crimson red with the blood and gore of its victim staining every molar, canine, incisor, and bicuspid. Before I could even do anything, without warning it filled the air between us with one single seductive spoken word, “Meow.”


Meow's picture

This is...really good. I

This is...really good.
I like cats,