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The Cat

As I poke through my sheets, I figured I woke up too early. Anyhow, I willed myself to get up and prepare myself for a coffee. It took me awhile to walk properly, as if this was my first time walking. The kitchen isn’t too far. I tried to convince myself. The room was dark. It was silent silent. Silent enough to hear my own breath. I wasn’t afraid since I don’t believe in ghosts; I don’t watch horror movies or read horror novels, so there was not any scene in my mind that materialized. I was more excited than afraid. As I walked closer, I noticed the kitchenwares were all in the floor, with matching scraped bones. That was the time when my excitement melted; my fear was raised a hundred degrees.

Where is the knife, the knife. I panicked. I never accepted the fact that someone could get inside. I had a full proof security. I have¬†barricaded¬†my walls on the boundary with raz0r-sharp bottles. I am a good man. How could someone attempt to infiltrate my house? But I set aside the argument. I decided how should I dodge any gestures of stabs. I walked closer to light were the plates rested. I brought nothing, it seems I can’t hold anything when my hands were shaking. Then the shadow appeared on my side, eating gingerly on my last night’s meal. I walked but this time at ease and bended my back, so I could hide myself from the furnitures.

Only three more steps then I could see this man. Three more then I will know who dares to infiltrates my inner sanctum. I can hear him now another sound, apart from my breath, his teeth. I have reached the edge of the table and I know this is it. My heart pumped like it was gonna puke blood. I can now hear my heartbeat, louder than my breath, louder than his teeth. I walked one more step, this time it took me more time. I faced the felon, then I heard a meow.

 

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