The wave car wash kinston nc

So yesterday my wife got a phone call from her best friend that she's had since high school. (were all mid to late 30's) Ends up at her OB/GYN appointment they discovered a cyst on her ovary and they believe it may be cancerous. They took a blood sample and she should get the results back by end of today or tomorrow.
My wife decides she wants to be there for her friend. Understandable. The problem is, we're on the west coast and she's in the great lake area (2000ish miles apart) she found a plane ticket for $970 and was off super early this morning and will be home Sunday afternoon.
There's three main points that make me upset and annoyed at the whole situation and I do feel terrible for not liking that she went but, hear me out...
1) Finances. We've been really financially secure for years now and up until this year, this wouldn't have been an issue as we just would've been able to pay for the ticket with cash. Currently, however, money is SUPER tight. We got hit hard by Uncle Sam for taxes and owe a significant amount that we are paying though monthly installments. Also, earlier this year my wife got rear ended and our car was totalled. Fortunately, we owed less then it was worth so we were able to put a good down payment on the new one. However, our loan went from having 1.9% interest to 4%, so our payment is significantly higher. Those, plus just in general everything being way more expensive. We are living paycheck to paycheck and just had to put our replacement dishwasher and washing machine on a credit card. So now, we have an amount of credit card debt that makes me uncomfortable.
2) logistics. We have 3 kids (2, 3 & 9) weekends are bonkers at our house. Between keeping the two younger boys from destroying everything and each other and making sure the 9 year old gets to the activities she takes part in and making sure all the necessary cleaning is done, it's a whole ordeal to keep the weekends on the rails. We've each taken solo weekend trips before but they're all planned and we'll make sure to setup the weekend so that the remaining parent is setup for success. This was completely out of the blue and now I'm stuck trying to figure out how to get my daughter to her special event she's been looking forward to, making sure my boys aren't just staring at screens all weekend and getting groceries and doing some cleaning so the house doesn't turn into shit show. (I applaud all single parents out there)
3)commitment to friendship. So for starters, my wives friend is a single, childless doctor who just spent a shit ton of money having some huge house built for herself. That said, my wife and I just celebrated 10 years being married and the last time her friend came out here was for the wedding. And I believe in the 6 years before we got married she only came out once (and that was cause she had an internship at a hospital here and lived with my wife at the time) My wife has had several traumatic incidents happen in that time. For example, losing her dad while 8 months pregnant with our first born, 2 miscarriages, having to terminate a much wanted pregnancy at 24 weeks (hence a 6 year gap between kids) and most recently, a debilitating car wreck. Her friend never made it a priority to come and be there for her friend, even though her lifestyle would lead to that being significantly less impact full.
So, I just don't fully understand why my wife felt she needed to make such a rash and impact full decision when her friend has shown to not be willing to even do the same for multiple occasions. All for the results of a test that could very likely come back as negative. I just dont get it.
Thank you.
Tl:Dr Wife spent 1k we don't have to fly 2k miles for potential cancerous test results of a distant "best" friend, causing negative ripples throughout our family and household.

I had this guy at y car wash drive right through the fence, then hit the house behind him. My claim was 7100 the house was 58,000. It’s been months. Geico is saying the guy only had 25000 coverage and it’s one accident so I get 10% of the 25000 the guy at the house gets the rest. He told me I should call my insurance and they will pay remainder then sue Geico and get the money from them. Is that correct? What should I do?

TLDR: How do I get mousse out of my hair after styling?!
Hi! I'm new to embracing my waves. I've been working the CGM for a couple of months. I used to despair of my hair ever looking nice because I just have no talent for it. I can't place a bobby pin to save my life. Curling iron? Never got it to work. Since discovering my waves (way too late!), I've actually enjoyed doing my hair for the first time in my life.
I have low porosity, fine, high density hair that gets easily weighed down by product. I've been trying different things, and I'm trying to incorporate mousse as it's lighter than gel. I usually prayer hands products then scrunch so as not to break up the clumps, but with mousse, I sometimes get the urge to rake since it's so wet, and I can reform the clumps after raking. I use about half a golf ball-sized amount. Either way, after my hair dries with mousse (NYM brand), either by air dry or diffusing, my hair doesn't feel like it has a cast. It just feels like the strands of my hair are dirty and crunchy. I cannot get the mousse out of my hair, no matter how much I scrunch. Yesterday, after diffusing, I was like, "So now I have weird strings, awesome" and I started pulling them apart. Then suddenly, I had all these curls! Today, I woke up and my hair was still super curly, even though I slept on it, and yes, I still feel the mousse in there. I tried putting some water in to get it out, and it didn't work. I love the effect it has on my hair in terms of curls, volume, and staying power, but I don't want it to look or feel dirty. What am I doing wrong? Thanks for any advice!
Routine: I wash and condition every 2nd or 3rd day with Herbal Essence's sulfate/sulfide-free line side to side, then the scrunch out as much water as I can. I microplop further with a 100% cotton t-shirt then add product. I found leave-in conditioner was making my hair too soft to hold shape, and curl cream was too heavy, so I just started using Curlsmith Featherlight Protein Cream. I glazed and scrunched a pea-sized amount through my hair, then raked and scrunched a half golf ball-sized of NYM mousse into my hair and diffused, then scrunched out the crunch before further working on the residue.

Typology
Typology is a method of interpretating scripture. Typology itself is not a hermeneutic position but should always be responsibly paired with a hermeneutic approach. Typology has been a very controversial form of exegesis, as it is somewhat metaphorical and symbolic. Biblical typology is essentially to take the events and characters of the OT scriptures and understand how they are paralleled in the NT scriptures.
Types, Antitypes, and Archetypes
There are 3 words we need to consider: type, archetype, and antitype. "Type" is a common word we use every day. White, wheat, and rye are all types of bread. Bread would be the archetype. It is the overarching concept that all these are types of. An antitype is what the types ultimate fulfillment is, or the correspondence, or copy of the type. Take, for example, Joseph, the son of Jacob. He was lifted up to Pharaoh's throne and was given rule over Egypt. This is a "type." The OT event and figure is the example itself. The archetype in this case is about reign and authority. The antitype is when Jesus was lifted up to the throne of God in heaven and granted rule over the kingdom of God. By understanding the account of Joseph, we can recognize the patterns that we see played out in Jesus. Joseph was the son of Jacob, Israel. Jesus was a descendent of Israel. Joseph was a righteous man who was captured and taken by his own brothers. Jesus was captured and taken by his own fellow brothers, Israelites. Joseph was sold into slavery for money. Judas betrayed Jesus for silver. Joseph was placed in prison but was released to become king over all of Egypt. Jesus was raised from the dead and released to be glorified above all creation. Joseph was given a colourful robe by his father Jacob, Jesus was clothed with his Father's glory.
Why Typology is Important
Why is typology important? First, the NT writers themselves use typology, which validates this as a proper methodology for understanding and interpreting scripture. Jesus, Paul, Peter, John, the Hebrews writer, and Matthew all use typology. Second, it is a way to better understand Jesus himself and his roles. Third, it is one reason that we know Jesus truly fulfilled all scriptures. He is ultimately the antitype of every major character and event in the OT in one way or another.
Where does "Typology" come from?
"Typology" comes from the Greek word τύπος (tupos). Paul uses this word in 1 Corinthians 10:6: "Now these things have become types to us." Paul also uses this word in Romans 5:14, referencing Adam as a type of Christ. Peter uses the word ἀντίτυπος (antitupos) in 1 Peter 3:21 in reference to the flood and baptism. These two words are generally translated as something like: copy, pattern, example, or corresponding. The idea of a "type" and "antitype" is essentially that a type is an example, an antitype is the copy. Think of a stamp that makes an impression on a coin. There is a pattern etched into a machine, and it produces a copy when stamped on the coin.
Basic Rules of Typology
Typology must have textual warrant. Typology isn't simply to imagine a connection with no basis. It is very important that your approach to typology does not negate, override, or contradict your hermeneutic approach. I use the historical-grammatical method. When doing typological studies, the original intent and interpretation of the text can not be waved to force a typological comparison. Following up with this, typology is not allegory. In studying mythology, it is very common to take allegorical stories and apply them to archetypal symbols. Osiris, being the god of the underworld, is an allegory for the subconscious mind. The tunnels of Set are an allegory for the pathways of the brain. These are fictional stories that relate to greater types. Biblical typology is not to relegate the original type to mere allegory. These types are real events that occurred in history, and Jesus is a copy of those historical patterns. Biblical typology does not reduce the validity or credibility of those OT types. Typology should not be theologically motivated. John Chysostom has famously interpreted the killing of children 2 years of age and under as being a type for the Trinity. Unitarians and binitarians, asserting one or two, are to be killed or anathema. The story of Herod, he believes, is a type for the Trinity. Allowing systematic theology to influence a typological interpretation is not a proper way to understand types. Types must be independent of those systematic views and correspond to an archetypal pattern, not a theological agenda.
Typology is very controversial because it seems like it is so open to subjective interpretation. However, given that the NT writers use it as a basis and validate it as an approach, we must find a way to understand typology that is consistent with how they interpreted it through the text. Sometimes, these typological correspondences are explicit and clear. Other times, more obscure. Paul says that Jesus was risen up on the third day "according to the scriptures" (1 Corinthians 15:3-4). Yet, there's no OT prophecy regarding the Messiah, which states this. Paul is drawing this from typology and the consistent theme of the 3rd day in the OT. When we approach typology, we must approach it in the same way the apostles and NT writers themselves did, whether implicitly or explicitly. Typology can be a crucial tool in helping us to see the harmony of scripture, God's providence over the events of history, and inspiration of the scriptures by the harmony of the themes of the text.
Some direct examples of typology in the NT

Hebrews 9:23-25: Therefore it was necessary indeed for the representations of the things in the heavens to be purified with these, but the heavenly things themselves with better sacrifices than these. For Christ has entered not into holy places made by hands, copies of the true ones, but into heaven itself, now to appear for us in the presence of God, nor that He should offer Himself repeatedly, just as the high priest enters into the holy places every year with the blood of another.

The Hebrews writer is comparing the type, which is the OT sacrifices in the temple, to the antitype, which is the sacrifice of Christ in heaven. He calls them, "representation of the things in heaven." The things on earth are shadows of the forms in heaven.

Colossians 2:16-17: Therefore let no one judge you in regard to food, or in regard to drink, or in regard to a feast, or a New Moon, or Sabbaths, which are a shadow the things coming. But the body is of Christ.

Paul states that these old covenant holy days were types, or "shadows," and Jesus is the antitype or substance of that shadow. For example, the Sabbath was a day of rest. But we now find our rest in Christ (Matthew 11:28-30).

John 3:14-15: And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

This is a call back to Numbers 21:4-9, where Israel spoke against God, and he released poisonous serpents on them. Moses made a bronze serpent on a tree, and those who were poisoned could look to the serpent and be healed. Jesus is stating that he is the antitype because in the same way, those of us dying from sin can look to him when he is nailed to a tree for our salvation.

1 Corinthians 10:9-11: We must not put Christ (or "the Lord" in some manuscripts) to the test, as some of them did and were destroyed by serpents, nor grumble, as some of them did and were destroyed by the Destroyer. Now, these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come.

Paul says that these are "examples" for us. He's speaking of the same event as John 3:14. The parallel here is that Israel tested God and were destroyed. Similarly, we should not test Christ. We should look to him for salvation.

1 Corinthians 10:1-4: For I do not want you to be unaware, brothers, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ.

Noting back to what was previously stated, Paul tells us specifically in verse 6 that these things are "types." He references Moses leading the nation of Israel through the Red Sea after the waters were parted. He says they were "baptized" in this way. Moses did not baptize them in the Red Sea in the same way John the Baptist baptized people in the Jordan River. Paul is making a comparison. Israel walked through water. They entered as slaves of Egypt, then exited as a free nation under their God. The Sea destroyed the Egyptian soldiers and Pharoah. Paul is comparing this to water baptism, in which we go in as sinners and come out purified. We go in as slaves to the law (those of us who are under the law), and we come out with the freedom found in Christ by being baptized into him. The reference to "the cloud" is a reference to the pillar of clouds that guided Israel. This is likely a typological reference to the clouds of Jesus' ascension and a reference to Spirit baptism. Paul references the food and drink that Israel received. This food and drink is a reference to the mana, the bread that God made to appear like dew on the ground as food for Israel in the wilderness, and the drink is a reference to the rock God opened through Moses to provide water for Israel. These are similar to the bread of the body of Christ that he speaks of in John 6 and the living water that cures thirst in John 4. Both of these are found in Christ. The purpose of this passage is not to say that Jesus was literally in the wilderness with Israel but that these events were recorded because when we read them, we should see the parallel. We are now God's chosen nation, the body of Christ, just as Israel was. We are in the wilderness, waiting to enter the promised land, that being the kingdom of heaven. We receive our food and water, our life source through Christ, just as Israel received from God through the mana and rock. Jesus is our spiritual rock.

1 Peter 3:20-21: Because they formerly did not obey, when God’s patience waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was being prepared, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were brought safely through water. Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Similar to the "baptized in Moses" statement of Paul, Peter himself notes a typological reference between the flood of Noah and the baptism of water. In the same way that the flood cleansed the earth of sin and evil, and yet preserved the souls of those on the ark, also baptism washes away all sin from us and preserves the soul of the sinner. The earth was typologically "baptized."

John 6:32-33: Jesus then said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”

Jesus makes this parallel to being the antitype of the mana from heaven. In verse 51, we find that the bread that came down from heaven and gives life to the world is his flesh. His flesh is the new mana. The antitype.

2 Peter 2:6: If by turning the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah to ashes he condemned them to extinction, making them an example of what is going to happen to the ungodly.

Peter makes a few very quick passes at various OT shadows in the context here. But here, he uses the destruction and burning of Sodom and Gomorrah as a type, or "example," of what will happen to the ungodly in judgement. Destruction by fire. John uses this typology as well. Compare Revelation 14:11 with Isaiah 34:10.

Luke 11:29-32: When the crowds were increasing, he began to say, “This generation is an evil generation. It seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah. As Jonah became a sign to the people of Nineveh, so will the Son of Man be to this generation. The queen of the South will rise up at the judgment with the men of this generation and condemn them, for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and behold, something greater than Solomon is here. The men of Nineveh will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and behold, something greater than Jonah is here.

Jesus makes two typological references here. The first is that of Jonah. Jonah was a prophet who was sent to warn Nineveh about God's judgement upon them, and Jonah was swallowed up by the fish and under the sea for 3 days. Jesus' antitypal fulfillment of this is to warn the world of God's coming judgement (Matthew 4:17) and to lay dead under the earth for 3 days. Jesus' second typological reference is that of Solomon. Solomon was the king of Israel granted unparalleled wisdom and glory, having the most wealthy empire of all time. Yet, Jesus is "something greater than Solomon." He "has become for us wisdom from God." Jesus has wisdom that surpasses Solomon, and his kingdom will be greater than Solomons, for Jesus reigns in heaven over all creation.

Matthew 1:23: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means God with us).

It is a very misunderstood passage, which is a typological reference as well. Matthew is not declaring that the prophecy of Isaiah 7:14 was fulfilled only when Jesus was born. Immanuel was a child during that time of Isaiah who would serve as a sign for king Ahaz. Matthew is making a typological reference. In the same way Immanuel was a child that served as a sign that God was with his people and had not abandoned them under king Ahaz 800 years prior, Jesus is now a sign to the nation of Israel that God has not left his people, even after 400 years of God's silence and sending no prophets. Jesus is regarded as the antitype of this OT event.
Indirect examples of Typology
These are just some examples of the more explicit references to typology in the NT. However, there are many implicit references. For example, Matthew's gospel as a whole is written in a way to show Jesus as the antitype of Moses. Jesus is the "greater Moses." Moses gave God's commandments from Mount Sinai. Jesus is portrayed as giving a new commandment from his sermon on the mount. Moses was a child born in Egypt under a period of genocide, and Moses barely survived. Similarly, Matthew is the only gospel writer (or even NT writer) who mentions the genocide or infanticide of Herod. Jesus was a baby whose life was in danger. The transfiguration of God's glory being shown through Jesus is a parallel to Moses when his face is shown with the reflection of God's glory. Paul makes reference to this comparison as well in 2 Corinthians 3. Hebrews 1:3 may also be a reference to this, "who is the radiance of his glory."
John's gospel has a common theme of typology implicitly as well. There are many indirect references to the old covenant in comparison to the new covenant. For example, in John 2, Jesus turns the water into wine. This is not just any water, this was specifically the hand washing water used for Jewish rituals as part of their scribal laws. Jesus turns this water into something new and refreshing as a symbolic way of showing the new covenant to the old. Jesus does the same in John 3 with the temple being God's house under the old covenant and the temple of his body in the new covenant, where God's presence resides. Jesus is the antitype of the Ark of the Covenant. In John 4, when speaking to the Samaritan woman at the well, he makes a comparison to the temple that their forefathers worshipped in, and the new worship "in spirit and truth." John's gospel also has a running theme of typological parallels between old creation and the new creation. God breathes breath/Spirit (same Hebrew word) into Adam, and he becomes a living soul (Genesis 2:7). Jesus breathes Spirit onto the apostles, and they become new creations (John 20:22, 2 Corinthians 5:17). God created the universe in 6 days, rested on the 7th, and said that it was finished (Genesis 2:2). When Jesus was on the cross, as he died, being laid to rest for 3 days in the ground, his final words were: "it is finished" (John 19:30). Also, John records Jesus' resurrection as being on "the first day of the week," meaning the beginning of a new week. The 8th day. Jesus is head of the new creation, and his resurrection on the new week symbolizes Jesus' beginning of a new creative week (John 20:1, Colossians 1:17-18).
The letter to the Hebrews is almost entirely a letter of typological comparisons. Jesus is the antitype of Melchizedek, being both king and high priest, he is the antitype of Aaron as the greater priest line, the antitype of old covenant and the sacrifices, the antitype of Moses, the Davidic kings, and more. This letter is written to show the superiority of Christ to those OT figures to show that they are the shadow of what is to come, and Christ is the substance that casts the shadow. The greater has been revealed in Christ, so do not fall back into the older, lesser things of the law.
Conclusion
There are many more examples of both implicit and explicit typology in the NT. There are also many typological parallels that are not mentioned directly or even indirectly by the NT authors, but we can see the pattern when reading the OT. A complete list of these types can be found in the forthcoming link. It is my belief that we will never find all of the types and antitypes between the testaments.

I was only married for 1yr and 2 months. few months ago (April) my ex husband and I got into a fight, (this time he got physical) he went out of town immediately after the fight the police were called to the house. Long story short I got a restraining order and when he returned from his trip, he was served with a restraining/move out order. I haven’t spoken to him or seen him since. We’ve had few court appearances in which I have remained consistent choosing to go about it as amicable as possible. Initially I didn’t have a lawyer so his attorney and him took advantage of that and were asking for everything from me. Home equity, retirement ect just being obnoxious. After realizing I was wasting my time trying to be civil with two clowns, the attorney and my ex. I hired attorney, my new boyfriend found for me. Best choice ever!!!! My attorney told me to allow him to handle them, my legal issues will be his job and I can focus on moving on. From that moment, my legal issues stress was no longer my issue. I focused on being happy. So I did just that. I lost weight, looked better than I ever did before. I looked like I was 25yrs old. focused on moving on. meet amazing man that showed up and showed support the entire step. Aside from the support he’s help me regain life in me again! We do things that my ex husband never have done together. It’s so bad but I can’t help to compare when I’m with my new boyfriend I reflect on the time we’re spending, in my head I’m like fuck I’m not even married to you and my time spent with him isn’t even comparable it’s the non sexual acts. My husband suffered from mental health he was bipolar so he was depressed all the time and it got so bad it was changing me. We came home from work cooked or picked up food and that was it. Nothing meaningful or exciting about us however my new boyfriend and I are all about enjoying life, tomorrow isn’t promised we plan min trips, schedule couple massages/spas, private dinners, go shopping together, workout, and pray together, oh and he washes my car!!! (last time I asked my ex to get oil change he threatened me with a divorce) I think back now and lol. So please tell me because I do feel somewhat guilty about moving on too quickly but if the relationship is over then why wait? I gave my ex amicable time to realize he was fucking up! Per usual his judgement and fight for me has always been something he lacked. Through this divorce process he had many chances to seek counseling or ask his attorney for a civil approach but instead he continues to show me through his actions I’m making the right decision. He just doesn’t know when to stop even when it’s in his best interest. I even said I would drop the restraining order and criminal charges he facing if he would agree to give me back my jewelry he took from me and walk way! That’s all I ask but he rather not do that. What future is there if your not willing to do what’s best for you, walk away return my jewelry and go to counseling. Then maybe I would feel I’m moving too fast. From the looks of everything it doesn’t seem like I moved fast enough. I saw a picture of him recently and I’ve lost attraction to him I feel it comes from seeing him through a different lens now. To me he still has lot of growing up to do, his family will be his family no fault in that but who wants to deal with someone that has to seek approval of family in our 40’s especially when some of the family member have done worse in there relationship. I guess this whole thing has just been a complete turn off for me all the way around.

I was in conversation with another member today. We were sharing nofap experiences and I didn't even realise when I got carried away and just wrote up an entire testimony. Thought it might be good encouragement for the sub. Feel free to read if you want, here's what I wrote:
Wow, you know, it's so strange hearing other people's testimonies in this matter. Everybody's journey through this issue is similar but different in key areas and fuelled by different insecurities and shortcomings. For example, what you said about you conflating your penis size with true masculinity is something I can never relate to but that's because my journey through this addiction was different to yours. Hippie christians like to say that there are many ways to God but I only find the opposite to be true. Many ways to Satan and the destruction that lays in wait for the unwary. Many ways but one destination.
My journey with PMO was different. When I was about 8 my family emigrated to the UK and I started attending primary school in London. Looking back, this was a stressful time in my life. I was barely fitting in my school back in my home country because of the restrictive bringing up that I received from my dad. Relating to peers was always difficult for me because I didn't watch/play the same movies/games as everybody else, we had no TV at home, I had no interest in sport, etc... Transferring schools to a foreign country had it's toll. I was faced with a whole new culture. Kids interacted differently here, they were louder, bolder, more disrespectful towards teachers, wasted food, etc... I was struggling to process all these differences. Around this time I had first come into contact with the concept of masturbation via seeing peers that would fondle their privates in class. I didn't really understand what they were doing at the time but I was also experiencing first pangs of sexual curiosity. I was always really easily infatuated with girls since I was little but I felt a stronger drive towards older girls and the teachers. My fantasies would usually explore the impossible, somehow it never occurred to me at the time that this may be dangerous, I always had a rich imagination.
Later I experienced another cultural shock when my family moved city and I went to high school without my friends from primary. This city had a very different demographic and as a result so did the schools. While all schools in greater London are ethnically mixed, this area of London was very Somali Muslim dominated. The school culture was far more aggressive but perhaps that's just down to it being high school. There were fights, smokers, phones (blackberries were the hot thing at the time), gangster rap, swearing, etc... Some kids get exposed to these things earlier on but my primary school left me very sheltered. This time I was really lost at sea with no compass. Finding common ground was really difficult and I wasn't one for seclusion because I was always really social and outgoing. In school, most kids arrange themselves into groups according to their interests and qualities. The footballers form one group, the fly boys and rebels form another, there are also the half cool half nerdy types that ace all the tests without studying. Lastly, if you don't make it into any of these three, you usually wind up with the cast outs. The emo kids, the gay/trans wierdo types. At least in the 2010's this last group was really fringe and didn't have much of a voice, now it's all different...
I was lucky to land into the 3rd group. Finally making some friends and not feeling so alone, I was making myself a place in school. We usually hung out in the library, playing yugioh cards and looking through manga and comic books to find dirty pictures... I must have been 12 around this time. YouTube was still new and it was a wild west. My first exposure to soft porn was though YouTube during my first years of having my own room and PC. Looking back, this was a mistake but I was the oldest child and my parents didn't know any better. The internet opened my world to new things that I never heard of, and new grounds for relating to my peers. I was getting into rap music (behind my dad's back of course) and sharing albums with my cool nerd buddies. Next was anime and all the perversion that goes along with that. I was really lost. This pattern of masturbating to fantasies about teachers had really amplified by this time. I never really stopped to question why that was until today. I suspect that I was acting out a subconscious contempt for my mother. During my childhood, my mother and father were always at odds with each other as to how I should be brought up. My dad was always on the side of growth and discipline, my mother was always pulling the other way. She was always my enabler, the one who covered up my misdeeds keeping me from responsibility, the one who would listen and find understanding for any choice that I made. She meant well and I was always very open with her growing up but I think deep down inside, I resented her for it. Because I knew I was walking the easy way and she was making it possible. I was missing out on a healthy relationship with my father because it put expectations on me.
Finally, I went to college. Another move, this time to a completely different part of the country. By this time, rap and hip hop culture was deeply ingrained in my mind. I had a juvenile record for vandalism and cannabis smoking behind my belt. Moving out of the city had me feeling lost and looking for a way out. I was being sucked in by evil forces into further drug experimentation, my curiosity was fixed on the psychedelic mushrooms that grow in abundance in the region to which we moved. I fell for the lie that there is freedom and enlightenment at the end of that road. My mind was constantly revolving around drugs, rap, anime and other worthless things. College had me depressed. I was failing my courses even though I was an A predicted student. I was being bombarded by rad fem, neo-marxist dogma in my humanities class and I was sick of it. I couldn't articulate my disgust at the time but I just knew I had enough of this place. At this time my porn addiction was spinning out of control. I was compulsively consuming anal porn involving middle aged actresses. I was venturing into extreme hentai and even bestiality at the worst of times.
Something was brewing. I was conflicted because at the same time I was becoming exposed to the conservative revolution that seemed to be taking place in 2017-2018. There was a wave of change going through the internet. Everybody felt it. People like Jordan Peterson, Ben Shapiro and others were becoming prominent voices and they were telling me something compelling. That the thing I'm lacking in my life is responsibility and that I need to get my act together. I was also learning to articulate my distaste for the education system that I felt but didn't understand at the time. They gave me the words that I needed.
To cut the story short, I failed college and went to work. Got my first job in the fall of 2018 in a food factory via agency, going back and forth on random shifts with a Greek guy that they paired me up with for transport. Over the next 4 years I got to work many different kinds of blue collar jobs ranging from food to a car panel welding plant and a forklift/warehouse/deliveries in out/phone job. I learned that the world outside isn't as dull a place as they make you believe in school. I met many interesting people, middle aged guys with their heads screwed on as opposed to being surrounded by a bunch of angsty teenagers who don't know jack shit about life. Don't get me wrong, my life was still a mess. I got into smoking, my porn use was degenerating and I was still childishly ungrateful for my lot in life but I was learning to take responsibility for my actions. I was getting pay checks every month, contributing my bit to the house budget, saving the rest on the side. I finally felt like I was hauling my ass. I finally felt like some vague fog of a life plan was emerging out of the chaos.
In the last 2 years I decided to give my life to Christ. I was always brought up in the spirit of Christian values but I only ever rejected it up until now. I realised that God has a life for me if I trust in him. That I'm conflicted and that the time has come to stop teetering on the fence. I dedicated 2022 to self improvement, reading books, developing a relationship with my dad and brother, repairing the damaged one with my mother, swimming, playing an instrument, programming and also nofap. My first year of was a mixed success, it was a good learning experience a good foundation for 2023 when I finally managed to take off for good. I am currently 160 days into my streak (monkmode) and not looking back at all. Jesus Christ saved my life, literally from the despair and chaos that defined it up until this point. I finally realised that I have a purpose, that my life actually matters and that I can dedicate it to service and living a Godly life aimed at the good.
This has gotten awfully long hasn't it? It was meant to be a brief outline of my nofap journey but I guess it just wasn't that simple, turned into a full blown testimony. Anyway, this was more or less how I went through the motions.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.

“Maybe you just didn’t get over Basil’s passing as much as you’d like to think you did.” Once my therapist said those words, I immediately regretted seeing him again. Basil was my cat. He passed away nearly a year ago from kidney failure. He was an old cat, and it hurt to lose him, but it wasn’t something unexpected; his health was noticeably declining for a while before I finally put him to rest.
I was at peace with Basil’s passing. Not that it didn’t hurt. It did, of course. He was a part of the family. It still hurts thinking about him. The same way that it hurts thinking about the people I’ve lost throughout my life. I doubt someone would tell me I’m still grieving over the passing of my grandpa who passed away eighteen years ago. Nor Helena, who was my best friend, who passed away seven years ago from IPF. I still think about her a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m still actively grieving.
Mentioning that I mistake random noises for Basil’s presence was a bad idea. I guess. That’s probably what made the doctor think I was still not over his passing. God forbid my mind misinterprets something a sound or a flash of light for my dead cat. I know he’s gone, and I no longer have his litter box or bowl, but sometimes my imagination acts out. On some days, when I’m completely drained, I can hear a sound that sounds remarkably similar to what he sounded like when he was digging in his litter or when he ate. I even have moments when I catch a false visual cue of his form jumping or walking about. It’s just common sense, I think. My brain conjures up images and sounds that had been a constant in my life for over a decade, to very similar stimuli.
Even more so when I’m drained and right now, that’s pretty much all I am. Burnt out even.
That said, having to deal with Basil’s ghost would’ve been far more pleasant than that thing. Even if he came back to haunt me because of some arcane antihumanitarian diabolical cat magic pact.
Speaking of that thing, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t want to know what it was, but it looked like a cat. A gigantic cat. A gargantuan house cat of sorts and I’m not talking a thirty-pound Maine Coon big, I’m talking lion-sized big. Though, it wasn’t a lion… It was a cat… At least that’s what it looked like. In certain moments.
This whole thing is hazy, just like Basil’s imaginary phantom. I was having a hard time falling asleep, as often happens with people dealing with insomnia. Nothing seemed to help me get a good night’s sleep. Nothing short of pills, which I refuse to take because it seems like they’re letting you sleep without letting you properly rest. I might be wrong, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, thinking about not thinking, or thinking about nothing, isn’t an option. Counting sheep and whatnot doesn’t work either. These things make me think and therefore keep me alert enough to not fall asleep. Same with breathing exercises. My mind has a hard time shutting off, but it eventually grows tired of running around and lets me rest, insufficiently most days, but that’s something too.
That night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was getting frustrated with my restlessness. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I got out of bed and dragged my aching joints for a walk around the city.
No later than ten minutes into my stroll, I began hearing this beautiful melody in the distance. Something inside told me to follow the melody, and so I did. Before long, all I could think about was finding the source of this wonderful song echoing ever louder in my ears. I was so enamored by this song that I didn’t even notice where I had gone.
This magnificent song completely enchanted me. An ethereal keening performed with an angelic voice filled with a sorrowful, droning hum and pained delivery. So much so that I ended up dumbfounded on the other edge of the city when the stench of decaying trash finally returned me to my senses. I was standing at the edge of the landfill, not sure how I got there, but it was eerily quiet. The hauntingly terrific melody was gone.
Not that I had the time to be dumbfounded. As soon as I realized what happened, a shadow flew over my head and my body moved on instinct, flinching at the sight of the oncoming object. A dark mass landed not too far from me as the unfortunate circumstances of my military experience came into effect once again.
The mass shifted quickly, revealing a pair of jaws filled with serrated teeth.
My brain shifted gears and forced my legs to run without direction. I just had to get as far away as I could from that thing. As I ran, it hissed like a threatened cobra. I could hear its weight pressing against the ground behind me. It was a heavy thing. I just ran, trying my best to ignore the panicking internal dialogue raging inside my head.
After a couple of minutes, the noise behind me faded out, and I slowed down, now walking with intent, trying to make sense of what had happened to me as I made my way home. I walked for a few more minutes in the dark streets until I heard the single most terrifyingly uncanny sound.
A sudden and unexpected meow that just echoed straight into my ears out of nowhere. In that moment, this simple meow sent chills down my spine, forcing me to stop and turn. I couldn’t see much in the dark. The street lamps in this part of town are old and far too few to provide any kind of sufficient illumination.
A second meow glided across the nothingness as I saw a sliver of a shadow darker than the darkness itself slithering its way through the street. My body moved on its own. Forcing me to run again.
The meowing followed, occasionally growing deeper, too deep. With each successive call, I ran faster. As I ran, I looked back every now and again to see if I had lost whatever the hell was following me. Each time, I heard yet another uncanny meow.
By the time I had gotten to a properly illuminated neighborhood, I could see the shadow snaking around behind me from time to time. The meowing had gotten more erratic, more desperate, more sinister even. At one point resembling the sound of a man badly mimicking the sounds of a cat. These strange vocalizations made me feel even worse, and I was slowing down as my body was finally succumbing to exhaustion.
My lungs were on fire and my heart bouncing into my throat, my body was begging me to slow down and once the meowing had gone silent; I figured I could stop for a moment. By this point, I wasn’t too far from my home too. Shouldn’t have done that. Immediately, I saw two orbs floating in the darkness before the craziest puma growl ever exploded right in front of me, freezing me in place.
The beast pounced on me. I could see its mass flying straight at me and I don’t know what happened, but I just stumbled over my feet, thinking I’m just going to die. By sheer dumb luck, the beast overshot me and I heard it slamming onto the ground with a loud thud. It hissed at me and, fueled by a new wave of adrenaline; I just bolted out of there. As fast as my body would allow me to run. I sprinted full force, completely ignoring the fact my shins and knees screaming in pain and my lungs drowning in fire. I couldn’t stop as long as that thing was right behind me. It was making these really breathy noises, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I had a one-track mind at that moment, lose the damn thing at all costs. No matter how far I pushed, though, the thing seemed hell-bent on getting to me. I could almost feel its rancid hot breath across the back of my throat at points.
I was lucky there weren’t many late-night drivers around that night because I would’ve probably ended up dead, running across the road as I did. Never stopping to check whether there was any oncoming traffic. Fear is a powerful motivator sometimes and at that moment there was nothing I was more afraid of than the ghastly predator hot on my trail.
I didn’t know how much longer I could run at that pace. The morbid realization that this beast refused to conform to the laws of nature was absolutely terrifying. On the one hand, the fear provided me with additional fuel, and on the other, I was growing exhausted by the second. And that thing just ran at a high speed for longer than any goddamned cat should be able to.
The only reason I could even keep the distance between us was because I kept zigzagging and crisscrossing between buildings and roads as I ran.
Finally, as I began feeling that this was the end, a tidal wave of light behind me forced to beast to come to a halt. The deafening sound of a car horn blaring forced me to stop and turn. At that moment I saw the beast that was trying to hunt me. The flood of light completely demystified the creature, leaving it naked before my eyes.
It was a massive gray cat; far bigger than any cat I’d ever seen before, covered in a striped gray and brown fur. It contorted its face in rage as it hissed, baring its teeth at the approaching vehicle. The sound the beast made jolted me once last time before it turned around and ran off into the darkness. Blending perfectly into the shadows as the car sped away between us.
I didn’t sleep that night, nor the one after it… I don’t sleep much lately, in fact. I have a hard time around cats now, and it seems like they’re everywhere nowadays. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. It might just be the lack of sleep finally getting to. Still, I just can’t shake the feeling of being stalked by a horde of cats. Every time I hear a cat outside, I’m reminded of that awful scowl. They just keep meowing and hissing all the God damned time. It’s like they’re following me. I can’t help but feel like they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, there weren’t that many cats around here before.
What’s worse is that every one of those cats looks at me. My entire body seizes up because all I can see is the terrible scowl and blood-red eyes. Evil eyes serving as a gateway from which the void is gazing with a palpable lust for blood.
Lately, even the phantom flashes of Basil I get seem more ghastly and, at the same time, more tangible. There’s an air of cold malevolence to them. These lapses in perception are no longer a bittersweet reminder of a beautiful past, but a sign of a predatory presence toying with its food.
It scares me to say this, but I’m having a hard time telling what is imaginary and what’s not.