Staring at the Darkness

 

The cat lies staring into the darkness, waiting. What is he waiting for? How long will he wait?

The darkness provides no answers, and the silence of the house is broken only by the mechanical hum of electronics. No living thing makes a sound. The cat is still in his waiting, without even the twitch of his tail.

The would outside the house is lit by starlight, the new moon a dark spot. The wind flutters halfheartedly along, offering only the occasional howl as it gets a brief swell of energy.

Back within the house, something changes. Was it a sound? A scuttle of movement where none should be? The glow of an eye?

Whatever it was, the cat reacted. He leapt, claws unsheathed. An otherworldly hiss crackles against the electronic hum. The sharp stench of a festering wound fills the air, before vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.

The cat retreats from the darkness. Something slick and wet is clenched between his teeth, wiggling in an attempt of freedom. The cat bites down harder, but the thing in his mouth refuses to die.

Even as the cat curls up within sight of a particular patch of darkness and begins to eat the thing, it continues to wiggle.

Once his meal is finished, the cat returns to staring at the darkness.