Curiosity Killed
The Cat?
by Michael S.
Collins
The Cat sat
alone on the mat, purring happily. Grooming
itself. Guarding its treasure. The dark corridor
gleamed in its minds eye, and the beast watched
the shadows as they frolicked alongside each
other. Its eyes burned fiery green into the
darkness. Waiting.
From the other
end of the corridor, He could see it. He could
see the cat. It was waiting for him. The eyes
looked hungry, like a starved panda in a shopping
mall. The man crept down the corridor, hiding in
amongst the shadows, hoping that they would keep
him away from those eyes. He could see the eyes.
He just hoped that they could not see him.
His pulse
fizzed faster than the gin and tonic in his hand.
The other hand held firm onto the wall. The
shadows made their acquaintance with his and
tried to tip the gin and tonic out of his hand.
The man stood firm, back up against the wall, and
watched the Cat's eyes, staring back.
It was
watching. Hungry.
And yet it's
treasure stood at its paws. He only had to reach
it, and he was safe. The man took one step
forward. Silence. The Cat would never know what
hit it.
A loud sharp
piercing noise screamed through the dark. It
sounded like a TARDIS taking off, for that was
his ring tone. The man flipped upon his mobile
phone, the bright light shining down the Corridor.
A text. From a
friend.
“Dear
Curiosity, you found out how the cat has nine
lives yet? Matt.”
The Man,
Curiosity, fumbled his phone back into his pocket
and looked swiftly down the corridor. The eyes
were gone. The cat was gone with them. To where.
And then
before he could even let out a scream, it was on
him. The text was left unanswered. And the Cat's
eyes, well, let's just say they weren't so hungry
anymore.
After that,
the Cat sat on its mat, purring. Grooming.
Because, you remember that old adage, don't you?
The Cat killed Curiosity.
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