I killed my neighbours cat

If you had told me 10 years ago that this was my life - I would have never been able to believe you. Now my life is an amalgamation of this whirlwind of emotion, situation irony and divine torment.

Heavenly Father tell me what I have done, tell me why in my life I deserved this- I call out to you a sinner why is this the lot I received.

Two weeks have passed since the death of my late husband.

Two weeks have passed since I lost my livelihood, my home, my family, and everything I have ever loved. Jonathan’s death ruined me in every way a person could be ruined. I grieved, but I got angry - at myself, at everyone else - and I pushed the world away when I needed it most. I needed guidance, love, and support, and I singlehandedly ruined every relationship I had cultivated with the people around me.

Jonathan’s death was sudden.

It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon and he had been let off work early, 2 p.m. He was weeding our garden - pulling out the pesky “fat hen” that had been indoctrinating and slowly conquering our strawberry plants. I looked out the window and saw him kneeling over at the hedgeline of the garden. I glanced down at the dishes I was rinsing off for the late lunch we had planned, and the next second Jonathan was on the ground - collapsed.

Frantically, I sprinted to him, making effort to not be blocked by our old, squeaky, often-jammed back door, and I found him in a gory state -completely decapitated.

Words cannot describe how I felt.

Immediately, I called 999, as I had been told to do in these kinds of situations - the ones you never expect to be in. They rammed into my cottage, swiftly removed the body, rustling and bustling around me - I never saw him again. His funeral was tragic. I never received answers for what happened… until I went back to the garden.

Back to the hedgerows.

At first, I saw nothing more than mere police tape. But after some time, I looked under the hedge… and I saw deep paw prints. Claw-like. Much larger than any animal or pet I had ever seen. And that’s what led me to the discovery of Mog.

Invested, I went over to my neighbour’s house - the side with the paw prints - and asked to come in for a cup of tea.

It’s the sort of thing us widows can get away with, a silver lining. Everyone is entrenched in forced sympathy, they almost feel inclined to follow our every request. The tea was fine, Lukewarm. The house had a strange, antique almost stale scent - as though it hadn’t been lived in before, and everything had been left to sit and rot.

When I asked to go to the loo, I was met with confused looks. Uneasy disbelief. It was almost as though they had no idea what that was.

“The bathroom,” I clarified.

They still looked confused - as if I were speaking the native tongue of an obscure, unidentified country.

I told them I was tired and I should leave. That’s when I noticed their cat - or a cat-like creature.

It had the regular cat body 1 all four legs, long tail - but its face was most peculiar. It had the face of a man, with sharp teeth and three tongues.

I stumbled back in sheer horror and let out a blood-curdling scream before running back into my cosy cottage.

I have not one single explanation for what I saw - other than something completely alien.

I am next-door neighbours with aliens.

That night, I crept into their house through a broken window round the back of their garden. I had nothing to lose, and I was almost certain that demon of a creature murdered my husband. As I crawled into their house, I saw the bodies of my neighbours - almost suit-like. Unzipped.

My neighbours were puppets of flesh.

And this cat, this thing, was roaming the house, armed with knives and obscure weaponry.

It all happened so fast.

One minute, I was a grieving widow, drowning the sorrows of my dream life in a bottle of Malbec and sleeping pills - and the next, I had broken into my neighbour’s house convinced of an alien takeover.

Without thinking, I took the closest thing to me - a candlestick - and I rammed it into the back of its head, terrified of what this creature may have done to me.

But as I heard it screech and whine for help, its body twisted and warped into my next-door neighbour Carl - who had previously served me tea.

The “suits” were nowhere to be found.

Anabeth walked through the living room door in a fit of pure horror, crying, yelling at me. That’s when I looked down and noticed my sleeping medication…

And the stained shirt of red wine.

My advice to you is:

Don’t mix your medication with alcohol.

It may relieve your temporary troubles… but the hallucinations do, in fact, feel very real.

Here I sit in the mental hospital I once ridiculed as a child, terrified to step in front of, a body lays in my conscience, the blood covers my hand and pours from my soul. I am the monster I was raised to control, I am the alien living next door. I am lady Macbeth, Macbeth and the witches all conspiring into one devilish entity and now I look back at that dark day 2 weeks prior to now and I remeber the dirt on my shoes in the house the strawberry plants in my hands and the knife in the sink, being cleansed of my sin.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned yet this sin was given to me by you, I can not take responsibility for who I am or what tricks my mind plays on me. I have been taken over by the devil or as they refer to it. “pschosis”.