The Cat.

It was a little before ten, right after I biked when I went to our terrace to watch for the stars and feel the early blow of Christmas season. Out of nowhere I noticed a silhouette in the far corner of the terrace, perched on top of the marble.

There was no light in the terrace so solid forms was in silhouette. I came nearer and realized that it was cat. A black cat with white fur on its chest and a fancy black bow tie. A black bow tie? Probably a lost cat. Funny looking cat though.

The cat sat so stiffly like as if it was a statue. I almost had the urge to clap in front of it just to see it move and confirm to myself that it is indeed alive.

I shook my head.

What a silly thought, I told to my self.

"I have been waiting ..." someone said.

When I heard someone someone spoke, I jumped a little to where I was standing, The voice was in its perfect baritone in a perfect accent I have never heard in my life. American?

"Actually it is English; and if you are observant enough as you claim to be you know that it is I who had spoken". The voice said so flawlessly.

I slowly turned my head to where the cat was sitting and looked at the it curiously. It didn't move from its position, not even blinked but it looked at me so straightly in the eye and I suddenly felt a rush of cold wind touched my spine...

-- written Nov 7'10; 11:07 PM