Perfect Day

Helen felt amazing. Only three days into a week off work, she had so much time for activities. The spa visit had thoroughly pampered her body and the morning meditation had rested her mind. Her chakras were beautifully balanced after a healing session and she was even wearing a brand new fluffy jumper. This was the result of a little retail therapy – made necessary, as she was a little underdressed for the chilly air.

She almost floated across the ground as she left the shopping centre, turning onto the high street. It was a regular Wednesday afternoon, so the pavement was mostly clear of people. A woman, likely an over-tasked mum, was hurrying for a bus, children’s Halloween costume under an arm. Helen smiled the smile of someone without such things to worry about, adding a spring to her step as she headed for her favourite cafe. They had two easy chairs, an open fire, and the best hot chocolate in town. Also, they didn’t hurry you out of the place. Helen had a dodgy romance novel half-completed, the raunchiest bits yet to come. A couple of hours of reading and people-watching sounded like the perfect way to round off a perfect day.

A gust of chilly late-autumn breeze flicked some of Helen’s long, blonde locks in front of her face. She choked, hating the feeling of hair in her mouth. Pulling the offending strands aside, she almost trod on a tiny black cat. She stumbled as she stepped to one side, coming to an unsteady stop.

The cat remained seated, but the head followed Helen with a pair of piercing green eyes. Barely over eight inches high, the cat seemed comically small, yet its wide, unblinking stare gave it an almost Disney-like appearance.

Helen crouched down, the skirt of her yellow print summer dress puddling out around her. “Hello, little one,” she said, in a sing-song voice.

The cat blinked a single time. Slowly.

“Will you scratch me if I pat you?”

Another blink.

Helen bit her lip and risked it. The cat appeared to enjoy being stroked, pushing its head into her hand as she scratched behind an ear.

As it closed its eyes and twisted its head, so Helen could see a thin black collar. Dangling from it was a tiny silver five-pointed star. Helen automatically reached for the star but snatched her hand away when the cat hissed sharply.

“Sorry,” she said.

The cat blinked once more before standing and stretching. A quick shivering shake later and it wrapped itself through Helen’s legs, purring as it did so. She smiled and stroked it as it passed.

Suddenly, it leapt away, stopping a few meters up the street. It turned back and looked Helen in the eyes.

“What?” she asked.

No response. Just the green-eyed gaze.

Helen took a step forward.

The cat moved as soon as she did. It trotted another few meters away, coming to a stop once more.

Helen’s head tilted to one side. “Am I supposed to follow you?” she asked, glancing around, expecting to find a passer-by looking at her strangely. The street was empty, save a man standing at the bus stop on the other side of the road.

A loud meow brought her attention back to the cat.

“Oh,” she said. “You have a big voice, don’t you?” She put her hands on her hips. “What am I supposed to do? Follow you?”

As if it understood, the cat appeared to nod, before turning and trotting across a few more paving slabs. This time, it just stopped and looked over its shoulder.

Helen pursed her lips and considered her situation. Technically, she was still going in the right direction, anyway. No harm in playing along, for now. She set off after the cat.

#

Despite her bouncy mood, Helen had to admit it was a little odd, following the cat. She was all for impulsive actions. She owned a vintage knitting machine, unused; a fondue set, used but never properly cleaned; and a six-foot inflatable puffin. Actually, the puffin was now named Steven and he lived in a corner of her living room. He was essentially her flatmate. 

Either the cat was playing a cruel game, which was not completely out of the question, or Helen was doing exactly what it wanted. She would get within a few feet and then it would dash away, pausing only to look over its shoulder to make sure she was still following.

After only a couple of minutes, they arrived outside the cafe and Helen came to a stop.

“Right,” she said, pointing at the cafe entrance. “This is me. I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to play with. Don’t think they let animals in.”

The cat looked at the cafe and then back at Helen. It was eerie, like it completely understood what she had said. It meowed, loudly.

Helen put her hands on her hips again. “I’m not coming.”

Green eyes stared, unblinking, deep into Helen’s soul. She resisted.

“Nope. It’s no good looking at me like that.” She pointed at a plush purple chair, visible through the cafe window. “See that chair? That’s my home for the next few hours.”

The cat had still not blinked. The wind ruffled the ink-black fur, letting the tiny star catch the sunlight. Something about that glint of light drew Helen in. She almost fell forward as she tried to zoom in by squinting.

With a sudden move, the cat sprung away once more. Again, the glance over the shoulder, a clear instruction for Helen to follow.

She looked at the inviting cafe. She could even see the powdered hot chocolate in the jar. Tearing her gaze away, the tiny cat was still staring at her. She could always come back later. Right? The cafe didn’t close till late. It wasn’t like they were going to run out of hot chocolate.

Besides, she thought, what was going to happen? She’d probably just end up getting a nice walk in. It was certainly one way to get her steps for the day. Wasn’t she supposed to be more of a ‘yes’ person these days? That was what her online guru had said. Sure it was.

Today was a ‘yes’ day.

#

The yes-ness of the day had faded after another twenty minutes of walking. The cat had led Helen some distance out of town into an older residential area. She knew where she was, in so much as she could turn around and go back to town. No problem. In fact, she was about to consider doing just that.

The cat leapt onto a garden wall.

It had not done that before. Helen stopped to watch.

With a self-satisfied meow, it leapt down the other side, out of view.

“Of course,” muttered Helen. “Bet you’re home now.”

She followed the wall until it ended at an open iron gate. The stone path beyond led to a dark blue wooden door in the centre of a double-fronted detached house.

The door was open, just a few inches.

Helen watched as the cat paused on the doorstep to stare at her before disappearing out of sight inside.

Helen bit her lip again. This was now a problem. She’d been all about the little adventure, following a cat on a beautiful, carefree day. Now, the journey continued into someone else’s home.

She shouldn’t.

She absolutely shouldn’t.

But the cat had led her here. What if someone inside was hurt? Nobody left their door half-open on purpose. Did they?

For a full minute, Helen stood in indecision in front of the house. She tapped a fingernail on her teeth, looking up and down the street for anyone around.

Studying the door, she tried to glean more information.

It was just a heavy door with blackness beyond.

The windows were dark, which didn’t help.

Finally, she realised that the very fact she had not left yet probably meant she was going in. She could at least go up to the house. No harm there, surely?

A few hesitant steps later, Helen put her hand on the heavy wooden door and called into the house.

“Hello?” her voice croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Is there anyone in there? I followed your cat.”

She shook her head. “Stupid,” she muttered. “Why would anyone follow a cat?”

Her hand, still on the door, moved gently away from her as the door swung silently inward. Startled, Helen pulled her hand back, but the door continued to swing until the whole hallway was visible. Aside from the lack of any lights inside, it looked like a perfectly normal home.

Someone else’s home.

A complete stranger’s home.

A faint meow came from within the house.

Helen tried to locate the direction of the sound. She held her breath, waiting for it to repeat. Seconds passed. No sound.

Meow.

Before she even registered it had happened, Helen had stepped into the hallway, head tilted to present an ear.

“Hello,” she said again, peering into the gloom.

A few steps later, her eyes began adjusting to the lack of light. The doorway to the outside quickly became almost too bright to look at. The gloomy hallway was completely normal. A few framed family pictures on the wall, a small table near the door with a set of keys in a bowl. Hard-wearing green carpet.

Meow.

Helen snapped around, looking to where the sound had come from. Apparently, the kitchen.

As she moved into the kitchen-diner, she decided not to call out any more. It felt wrong. Something in her stomach told her she was now on the edge of a situation she could explain. Turning slowly on the spot, she took in her surroundings. Old-style country kitchen, carved cabinet fronts, four-seat table, huge wood-fired stove.

Creak!

Helen leapt forward as the unexpected sound came from close behind her. Spinning, she saw a small unlatched door she had somehow missed, possibly because it was so dark. Unnaturally so. Something clicked in her mind and she looked over at the kitchen windows. With growing discomfort, she discovered heavy black curtains preventing any natural light from entering. The light from the open front door had to make the long journey down the hall to provide the only illumination in the room.

A reality check hit Helen hard. What on earth was she doing? She turned and took two swift steps toward the exit.

Meow.

The damn cat brought her to a halt. Instinctively, she looking toward the call. The creepy little door.

Of course.

Her new angle revealed the soft glow of a source of light beyond.

Really? Scary basement in the dark?

With leaden feet, Helen edged up to the door and gingerly pulled it open.

The door ground on its hinges a little, but swung clear easily.

Stone steps down.

Terrific.

Meow. The call was much louder now.

“Hello,” she called, barely above a whisper. After waiting a few seconds, she swore at herself under her breath. “This is where I usually hide behind a cushion,” she muttered.

#

Taking the steps one at a time, Helen descended. Surprisingly, the air became warmer, perhaps even a little thicker. By the time she reached the bottom, the woollen jumper was feeling like a mistake.

Turning and ducking under a heavy wooden beam, she found herself in a cellar storeroom. There were shelves on two walls, a few boxes, and what looked like a chest freezer. A tiny green light showed it was operational.

Two oil lamps provided the warm glow that had brought her down here. They were mounted on the far wall, on either side of a low archway. Within the arch hung a thick curtain of either black or very dark purple.

Movement caught Helen’s eye as the cat, almost invisible in the gloom, slipped under the curtain into the space beyond.

‘In for a penny,’ thought Helen.

She approached the curtain and stood for a moment, ears straining for any sound. After a moment of absolute silence – besides her own heartbeat – she swallowed deeply, pulled the curtain aside and ducked through the arch.

The sight of another woman immediately startled her. She seemed just as surprised.

“I’m sorry,” said Helen.

The other woman was just into her thirties, short hair, tight jeans, white t-shirt, rucksack over one shoulder. A floral tattoo covered one forearm. “No. I’m sorry,” she stuttered.

For a second, both of them stood in embarrassed silence. Helen took that moment to take in the room.

Oddly, it was three-sided. She had entered through her archway, apparently in the centre of a wall. The other woman was to Helen’s left, a few steps in front of an identical curtained arch. The final wall also had a matching portal. Other than that, there was no decoration beside six more lit oil lamps, two per wall.

Nothing. Just stone. Bare stone.

The only feature was a set of three dark metal poles set in the ground in the centre of the room. They were angled and touching in a way that reminded Helen of a stand for an incense burner she had next to her bath.

The other woman stepped forward. “I, um, don’t know how to explain this. I followed your cat here.”

Helen’s eyes went wide. “No. I followed your cat here.”

The woman shook her head and frowned in confusion. She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by movement from the third arch.

A young girl stepped confidently through the curtain. She was perhaps seventeen, carrying a shopping bag from a clothing store in one hand, a yellow bubble tea in the other. A massive afro framed her small face, on which was a smile that lit up the room.

“Oh,” she said. “I guess it’s your cat?”

Helen looked from the girl back to the woman. She could see the fear growing in her eyes. She felt it behind her own.

The girl took in her surroundings. “Bit dark in here, isn’t it?”

The room abruptly shifted on its axis.

For a second, Helen thought she was standing at right-angles to reality. Just as quickly, everything snapped back.

Blinking twice, it was a few seconds before she registered the three new figures. Three tall feminine shapes stood motionless in the centre of the room. Each faced an archway. Each wore a featureless black gown. Each one was bald with alabaster skin. Around each neck was a tight black choker. Attached to each choker was a small silver five-pointed star.

Stunned into immobility, Helen lifted her gaze to the face of the creature in front of her.

Green eyes locked with hers. Pupils vertical slits of darkness.

Silence occupied the space.

Helen’s heart beat loudly in her ears.

As one, the three figures spoke.

“Meow.”

Darkness.