The Cat
- Reads 51
- Votes 3
- Parts 4
"So, what's wrong?"
I manage to tear my gaze away from the black, cliche of a cat sat outside the window, staring in at me with it's yellow-green eyes, and fixed them on the man in front of me.
"Well, um, this cat won't stop following me," I reply, hesitantly.
"Why is that a bad thing?" The man asks, tilting his head, making his floppy brown hair, slide to the right, while tapping his pen on his chin.
"Things, well things kinda, sorta happen when it's around," I say, my eyes returning to the black, cliche of a cat, sitting outside the window, staring in at me with it's yellow-green eyes.
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Something didn't feel right. I looked around my room slowly; cautiously; taking everything in and trying not to feel too nervous. Perhaps Lure was in my room right now, watching me, silently laughing to himself. I didn't doubt it. I slipped off my bed and walked around, hugging my waist, and tilted my head. I felt my rough ponytail slide against the back of my neck and over my shoulder as I moved. "Lure?" I hissed, "Lure, are you there?" I wandered around a little, for some reason feeling scared. But why? It was only Lure. He wouldn't hurt me, would he? "Okay, Lure. Quit it. I know it's you. Who else would it-" I stopped, startled, when I heard a strange sound that made me cringe. It was like fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard. I whipped around and came face-to-face with my mirror. Immediately, I saw the difference. Various scratches were displayed across the glass, forming words. It looked as if claws had written the words in the mirror. "Deepest apologies, but it was fun." (All credit goes to my sister, who wrote this when she was in the twelfth grade)
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