paws to follow

I had been up late, trying to finish my homework, completely absorbed in my work. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed until the stillness of the night finally made me realize how late it had gotten. The house was so quiet, the kind of silence that made everything feel suspended in time. Suddenly, I heard it—a faint, almost distant sound. At first, I couldn’t quite place it, but then it became clearer: the unmistakable sound of a cat meowing.

I lifted my head from my desk, trying to make sense of the noise. I glanced at the clock, and my heart skipped a beat—it was 3:00 AM, the witching hour. The sound of the cat’s meowing was still there, but strangely, it seemed to be getting louder and closer, as if the animal was approaching my window, which confused me. I lived on the second floor of my house—there was no way a cat could be outside my window at this hour.

But the sound kept growing, closer and closer, until it felt as though the cat was right next to me, right outside the window. I got up from my chair, my curiosity pushing me forward despite the growing unease I felt. With each step toward the window, the meowing became more intense, more urgent.

When I finally reached the window and looked out, what I saw froze me in place. There, floating in mid-air right outside my window, was a cat—suspended in the night, its eyes wide and glowing. I couldn’t believe it. I was beyond shocked, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. The cat just hovered there, motionless, staring right back at me. My heart raced, and my mind scrambled to understand how such a thing was even possible. It felt like the whole world had shifted into something surreal, something impossible.

The cat’s amber eyes never wavered. It didn’t blink. It didn’t move, aside from the slight sway of its tail. It was as though it was waiting for something—or someone. For a long moment, I stood there, paralyzed. But then, without warning, the cat gave a soft meow, as though calling me to action. Its body shifted slightly, floating down toward the street, still hovering just above the ground. The glowing eyes never left me, as though inviting me to follow.

Against every instinct that told me this was unnatural—wrong, even—I found myself opening the window. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but there was something about the cat that compelled me to follow it. I leaned out and watched as the creature landed silently on the wet pavement below, not a single footstep to break the stillness of the night. It turned its head, meeting my gaze one last time. The amber eyes gleamed. And then, without a second glance, it began to walk away, down the dark street.

I hesitated for a moment, my pulse quickening. What was going on? What was this cat? But in the same breath, I realized I didn’t have any answers. There was only one thing I could do—follow it.

I grabbed my jacket, pulling it over my shoulders as I rushed down the stairs, my footsteps quick and light as I made my way to the door. When I stepped outside, the cold air hit me, and the world seemed to contract into a narrow, foggy tunnel of shadows and dim streetlights. The cat was already several paces ahead, its dark fur blending with the night. The only thing that stood out were those glowing amber eyes, flickering in the distance, always leading me onward.

The streets were empty, as they should have been at this hour. There was something unnerving about the silence—the kind that settled into the bones. No cars, no people, just the rhythmic patter of the rain against the pavement. The air smelled like wet earth and leaves.

The cat didn’t look back. It kept moving with purpose, its tail swishing with an almost deliberate rhythm. Every time I thought it might turn a corner, it didn’t. Instead, it simply walked ahead, as if it knew exactly where it was going. There was no hurry in its pace, no sense of urgency. It moved with a calmness that only deepened the unease gnawing at me. Why was I doing this? Why couldn’t I turn back?

I followed, my feet taking me deeper into unfamiliar streets, past alleyways I didn’t recognize, until we reached a part of the city I hadn’t seen in years. The houses here were older, and run-down, their windows cracked or boarded up. There was a heaviness to the place, a lingering sense of something forgotten. The streetlights were few and far between, casting long, erratic shadows across the broken sidewalks.

Then, just as I thought I might lose sight of the cat, it stopped in front of a large, crumbling building. Its door was slightly ajar, the wood warped with age. Ivy had overtaken much of the exterior, and the windows were clouded with years of neglect. It was hard to believe a place like this could exist in the middle of the city, surrounded by more modern buildings.

The cat turned and looked at me again, its glowing eyes shining brighter now, as though urging me forward. I approached the door slowly, feeling my heart thud in my chest, each step a battle against my growing dread. The cat stepped inside without hesitation, vanishing through the threshold. I stood there for a long moment, my mind racing. I had no idea what I was about to walk into, but I knew there was no turning back now.

I reached for the door, pushing it open with a creak that echoed through the stillness. The inside was dark—impossibly dark, the kind of darkness that swallows everything. There was a musty smell to the air, a faint hint of something old and forgotten. My eyes struggled to adjust, and yet, I could still feel the pull of the cat, like a thread drawing me deeper into the building.

Then, I heard it: a soft, rhythmic tapping. Like footsteps. Deep down I realized the cat was waiting for me. The sound of its paws on the wood was faint but distinct, and it felt like it was guiding me, not to something physical, but toward something far greater. Something I wasn’t yet ready to understand.

I took another step forward, heart pounding, I was already too far in. There was no turning back. Not now.

The cat was waiting.

And I was already walking toward it.