Echo Waves

My friend Mike asked me if I wanted to go to a party of a girl he knows who just got a new kitten. I said yes, and he drove us to the party. It was a small apartment in New York City. As we approached the building, I noticed the dim, flickering streetlights and a strange, eerie silence that hung in the air. We knocked on the door, and the girl let us in. The atmosphere was immediately unsettling—no music, everyone was seated, and no one was talking. The faint smell of disinfectant lingered, and there were nervous glances exchanged among the guests.

Mike asked where the kitten was. The girl said, "In the closet."

Mike asked, "Why?"

She replied, "Well, as you guys were coming into the building, you must have seen the ambulance and the police?"

We hadn’t seen any emergency vehicles.

"Well, the kitten was walking around and passed by the couch where you guys are sitting. There was a girl sitting to your left, and as the kitten was walking by, it stopped, looked up at her, and then jumped up and dug its two front claws into both sides of her face! She stood up, fighting to get the cat off her, but it was also tangled in her hair! She was flailing her head around, and her blood went everywhere! Look here, on the wall, and here on the floor, and the door! I haven’t had time to clean it up. It was horrific! I had to call 911. They took her away on a stretcher! That’s why it’s so quiet in here—everyone is in shock! It happened moments before you guys arrived."

Mike said, "Oh, but the poor kitten must be scared in the closet."

Just then, another girl arrived and sat next to Mike on the couch between us. She started talking with the host. Mike said he was interested in seeing the kitten and that he was going to let it out of the closet because it was probably scared and lonely.

The host pleaded, "Please don’t let it out."

Mike, showing a mix of overconfidence and disbelief, insisted, "It will be okay." He opened the closet, picked up the kitten, sat back down on the couch, and stroked its back. "See, it’s okay, it’s fine now."

The kitten jumped down on the floor and looked up at the girl between us. Then, it jumped up and started scratching and biting her face! The girl's screams were ear-piercing, a blend of agony and terror. The kitten made a low, guttural growl, a sound that seemed far too menacing for such a small creature. It was a relentless, savage attack—claws raking down her cheeks, fangs sinking into her skin.

Blood splattered across the room, hitting the walls and floor, and the girl's screams echoed through the apartment. The sight was grotesque; her face was a mess of blood and deep, jagged cuts, her eyes wide with fear and pain. She flailed wildly, trying to dislodge the kitten, but it held on with a ferocious grip.

The host yelled, "Oh no! It’s happening again! I told you not to let the kitten out! Oh my God, I’m calling 911 again!"

Panic spread like wildfire among the guests. Some screamed and bolted for the door, their faces pale with horror. One guy tripped over a coffee table in his haste, while another girl was sobbing uncontrollably as she backed into a corner. A few guests tried to help the girl being attacked, but the sight of the vicious kitten and the blood made them recoil in fear.

I grabbed Mike’s arm and said, "I’m leaving, and you should too since you’re the one who let the kitten out of the closet! I’ll be downstairs waiting for you."

We hurried out of the apartment, the girl's screams still ringing in our ears. As we reached the street, we saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles approaching. I turned to Mike and said, "We need to get out of here before things get worse."