"COME BACK HERE! You pest! " An angry middle-aged fat woman with thick yellow-colored eyeshadow and smudged pink lipstick shouted like a tortured walrus. She's holding her dirtied sandals as she runs.
She almost slipped on a dirty puddle a while ago as she chased a white furball with gray patches.
But the culprit never stopped running as his mouth secures a piece of tuna fish he stole from the raging woman. A glint of satisfaction passed through his forest-green orbs as his sensitive ears picked up a sound of hoarse breathing and gasps.
"C-Come back here! Give me back my expensive tuna! I always wanted to eat that. . ."
He heard a thud, he knew that's his cue to stop running and looked at the pitiful woman almost sleeping in the cement.
'Heh! That's what you get from eating too much and being greedy. ' The cat thought and stopped himself from smirking or else his meal would fall.
The woman started to squeal and cried like a baby as she tried to stand up. He heard that the money used to purchase the tuna came from the lady's monthly salary.
'I should have pitied you, but I am sorry, ugly auntie, but I am so hungry today and consider my continuous burglary as payment from the abuse you gave me when I was still a weak kitten. '
If he was a human, he's certain that his look could kill.
He could clearly remember when he was still a kitten. It was rainy back then and he found a nice warm cardboard box to ease the creeping coldness he felt. The box was located in a human's small gazebo. He was lucky.
He proceeded to lick himself dry and purred. He wanted to sleep. It's been weeks since he last felt this comfortable. His old cardboard box was snatched away from him by human kids, they put him inside and dropped him in a pond. He was carried away by the water. Almost drowning for almost 30 minutes.
If not because of a kind elderly woman, he had already died.
"Meow, meow, meow. " He stretched his paw and closed his eyes.
He didn't even notice a silhouette of a fat woman, crossed-arms, and snarling in his direction. "What the hell? Why is this cat here? You pest! You contaminated the box I'll use to place my newly bought pastries! " the woman angrily said and started kicking the box with him in it.
He meows loudly in pain and starts to cry. "You pest! Die! Die! " The woman continued kicking him until he was forcefully kicked out from the box. The box ruined him-bloodied and wounded.
He whimpered and tried to move his weak body. Silently hoping that the fat woman would leave him alone.
The abuse didn't stop and a pitiful wounded cat was found shivering in the rain. He couldn't even open his eyes and breathe properly because of the blood stuck on his nose.
It was a miracle that he'd survived but he wished he died at that moment.
It didn't end there, thus the abuse became a continuous cycle. Abusing the poor cat was one of the fat woman's hobbies and the abusers even multiplied.
He was beaten with numerous things.
Humans throw stones, water, even boiling water, they wouldn't care if he'll hiss in pain or he'll be bruised.
They'll use him as a toy. A game of violence and he'll get hurt.
He wondered why humans are such selfish creatures? Humans tend to be unfair and hurt others, be it other humans or other living creatures. But they will complain and act like a poor person when everything would backfire. Finally feeling the damage they had caused but never admitting they wronged.
Closing his eyes, he clearly remembered what he had done to live.
To survive, he taught himself to be agile, to be strong, and to steal from his abusers to survive. Just like any cat.
The fat woman is his favorite victim as an infamous cat burglar. Her house hosts a glorious feast every day. Obviously from that woman's physique alone, one can tell how gluttonous she is and the woman is easy to rob as cat's hell because she can't run further.
Humans called her condition as obese. But he calls it like Bob: the pig.
He dismissed his thought and proceeded to walk to a nearby alley. He needs to eat his meal as fast as possible or else other cats will try to steal it from him. That's the rule of life as a street urchin cat.
Other cats stole his meals numerous times when he was still inexperienced. They are not even satisfied if they already got his kill; they dig their claws in his skin, hurt him, and even mock him for being weak.
He knows he can't fight them back. He's physically weak; sickly-looking and skinny. . . but,
Hurt him, the hell he cares what's important is he already finished the meal.
He was supposed to be a robber, so what he stole must remain his.
He sniffed the surroundings to make sure no one was there. Cats in this neighborhood are easy to spot. Urchin like him stank with odor than domesticated ones.
'Those domesticated cats smelled like flowers with an attitude of a queen bee, add tch. '
He rolled his eyes as his brain pictured an image of a domesticated cat booming with an attitude he met a week ago.
He jumped in the garbage chute and placed his hunt there, licking his lips as his sensitive nose smelled the amorous aroma of the fish despite the awful rotten garbage present.
"Itadakimasu!" he mimicked what he had heard on a human's television and then he started ravishing his meal. . .
Fast.
If there is a monster living inside of him, surely it is his appetite. It's already two in the afternoon, approximately four hours since his last meal and now he wants to eat again.
He licked his paw and yawned. "I am hungry," rolling on the cold cement of the alley, he meowed and started to rub his tummy as it started to complain.
"It's time to hunt for food again, me is lazy. " He started to stretch his limbs as he moved his tail left and right. He doesn't want to go. He wants to visit the cat dreamland instead.
Hearing his stomach rumbling again, he started to sharpen his nails in the cement as he started to contemplate and decide.
"Lazy? Or no food? " Lifting his head towards the sky, he put his paw on his chin and started thinking. Eyes wide, mouth open.
"Lazy? " His tail wiggled to the left as he thinks. "Food?" It moved to the right.
In the end, he found himself walking straight to the direction of a nearby house, not far from the alley he's staying in.
Jumping from the gate, he set his eyes to the small apartment. "I hope there's food. The owner is crazy sometimes. "
He knew the owner of the house. A teenage human with a haggard appearance. He almost ran from fright yesterday when he saw this human; messy hair, eye bags, and swollen eyes. He looked like someone who is a 'drug addict' according to human vocabulary.
He went inside the house using an open window and began to scan for food. "It's quiet here, the owner is living alone? "
Aside from the serene atmosphere, the whole house seemed like a garbage dump. Things are scattered everywhere; clothes, plastics, rotten food, and crumpled paper.
"Messy, crazy owner," wiggling his tail, he mumbled and rolled his eyes.
"Where's the kitchen? " He walked across the room, careful not to hit the scattered trash.
"Come on, mind! Think about a new plot! " Anthony whispered as he tried to scribble ideas on his notepad.
He slumped on the dining table and sighed. "Damn, " he cussed.
He crumpled another piece of paper and threw it on the floor. Scratching his head, he picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip.
"Magical girl? " He wrote again. "But what about her? " He started to illustrate how his character would look like in the piece of paper.
He started to grin and hummed happily. "This time, Mr. Pat So will like this!" He nods as he adds a staff feature on his notes.
"She'll be able to transform using her staff and then she'll have a. . . " Putting his pen on his chin, he started to think again.
He puffed and scratched his head again. "I think I should eat my burger first. It will help me think. " Using his left hand he started to search for his burger while finishing his illustration using his right hand.
Instead of his burger, he groped something furry. Confused, he groped it again and started pinching it. "Why did my burger become hairy? " he questioned himself but still he didn't dare to look at the direction of his burger.
He pulled one of the hairs and his burger twitched. He rubbed his eyes and slapped himself. "Anthony, see? Too many fictions make you hallucinate. " He pinched his burger again and as he was about to get it-
It meowed.
"Why would a burger meow?" He rubbed his head and blinked his eyes repeatedly, making sure he heard it right.
"Anthony, you're just sleepy. Yes, you're dreaming with your eyes open." Convincing himself, he retreated his hand and decided not to eat his burger anymore.
"Idiot, " he heard a voice say and another meow followed.
He saw a cat walking straight in his direction from where his burger was. Moving its tail, it hit his coffee cup; spilling its content on his precious notes.
He saw how his illustration got soaked and how his written ideas vanished in an instant. He felt his blood boil as he gripped his knuckles, glaring at the creature who was looking at him boredly.
If there's one thing that could make him mad-It's ruining his art! His writings!
"You wretch!" He grabbed the dish cover on the table and entrapped the cat with it. The cat didn't even try to run away from what he did, which is unusual.
He smiled triumphantly and eyed the entrapped cat. "So it was you? You ate my burger and soaked my notes! "The cat just looked at him, not even blinking, expression bored and eyes looking like it's pitying him.
The cat opened its mouth and meowed. "You're a shit, " it said.
Anthony blinked his eyes, shocked at what he had heard. "W-What? " His mind started screaming, telling him the cat just talked. His heart throbbing and he started to sweat.
The cat rolled its eyes. "You're a shit. " It repeated.
Anthony saw darkness and fell to the floor with a loud thud.
’DID you ever find something that seems real but you aren't sure about it?’A question flooded on a young man's mind wearing a cheap orange shirt with ’on sale’ print on it, his hair tied in a man bun which doesn't seem like one. Anthony stared blankly at the unmoved coffee cup he had ordered from a nearby coffee shop. He sat on one of the tables outside the shop and some other people who were unfortunate enough to have a seat inside, the coffee shop was buzzing with customers that day and he wasn't fortunate enough to go early.He's up all night during weekends and sleeps at dawn.His face is painted with pure concentration as he starts to think while holding a book he bought entitled, “How To Write Fictions: A Dummy's Guide.”It's been thirty-five minutes since he opened it but he's still not finished in chapter 1. He's still at the first three words,
His whole day was uneventful. Eat. Write. Clean his house. Sleep and now watch. It's already 10 pm and he's still slumping on his crimson-colored sofa, eating junk foods and a piece of cake he had brought in the coffee shop to celebrate that he somehow passed his exams yesterday. His eyes focus on the screen of his laptop watching a shady looking guy being arrested by a tall bearded guy wearing an oversized coat and a hat. The screen turned black and credits started to roll with an annoying OST of the movie playing in the background. He frowned as he started to chew the cake he's eating. ”That was it? What a bad plot! I thought the writer of the book from where this is based is famous?” Still frowning, he closed his laptop shut. ”And... my agent did tell me that I should be like this writer. Is he still okay in the head? The scenes are all predictable and clichè, ” he added as he opened a bottle of soda. He took another bite
THE classroom was chaotic. The buzzing sound of exhilarating students who hoped to excel or stay at the ranking gossips among each other, some are terrified, biting their nails, sweat dripping on their foreheads; silently praying to stay at their ranking or some just want to have a passing mark or else their fate will be served at their doorsteps: to take the heinous subject again and face the wrath of their parents. Some of them even started to do the sign of the cross as the ever frowning face of Mrs. Fhart, their homeroom teacher, and major scanned on her laptop. Any moment from now, the devil would call their names and they'll know their verdict. The punishment of not studying is whipping them hard. Should they just study and refrain from procrastinating, maybe their fates would be good. Apart from the frantic students are the students who don't care much, unresponsive to the commotion, doing
Awkward silence contaminated the air of two individuals seated on a mauve colored mahogany table, facing each other. Each has a cup of coffee on hand. One of them is a raven-haired lad, golden orbs shining as he stared at the other lad with a chestnut curly faded hair, square-shaped face with refined features; a pointed nose, slanted eyes with an expressive silver orb. The other lad wears a plain gray shirt with a graffiti font word, "Checkmate" printed on the shirt. Anthony couldn't just believe he saw this guy in the flesh! Who will not be awed? When one of the most famous and very skilled writers of best selling romance novels is staring at him, he even offers him coffee and advice for his novel! Just wow. Did luck finally pitied him and showed? Anthony is in a complete starstruck and he couldn't even open his mouth to speak, not even a single word. He just stared like a fanboy he was. It's Sai
'HE hated it here'. A thought lingering Aegir's mind as a visible scrawl imprinted on his lips. He felt his skin getting itchy and irritated his fur glistened in sweat as the sweltering heat torture his being. Why the hell is the sun so hyped today? The heat's making him lazy. But he wants to eat and his appetite shouldn't be neglected. He waved his tail from left to right as he wandered around the busy streets of New Gorgon, finding a place where there was plenty of food. He's sick of eating scraps and chasing mice and birds that will tire him out, the old fat lady he used to steal food from always eats delivered food from fast-food, never leaving her house like she's scared of something that she wouldn't even bother to buy groceries. Call him choosy
A visible frown decorated Anthony's face as he grudgingly sat on a white and red satin-decorated chair, on his lap was his infamous writing notebook and a black pen.He wanted to write again, but how can he do it if he couldn't concentrate? He doesn't want to be here! To be in a lavish room decorated with satin and ribbon, attended by people who wore branded clothes and expensive jewelry; drinking wine in their glasses, chit chatting as they waited for someone to step in the small stage in front and deliver a speech in the gemelina wood podium.He doesn't belong here. Why would an awkward mess with raven uncut hair, wearing only a cheap synthetic leather brown jacket and a pair of denim jeans that he got from a bargain shop be here?"Auntie, can I go home a
A sing-song voice could be heard in the dead of night. Slow footsteps kissed the asphalt road of the heavily silent streets of Yaki. Only the two blinking street lights gave hope amidst the blinding darkness and only the human carrying the said tune gave life to the emptiness. Humans living in the area were already slumbering on their beds as time pointed its hand at 2 am, already past midnight. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of clicking added to the serene band. A man could be seen hovering his hands over his phone. He stopped singing. Fast tappings could be heard, then he stopped as he pressed a red button. "You're dialing Idol Saint..." "The number you have dialed is unattended. Please try again later. " "C'mon, Saint! Answer the damn phone! I changed my mind, I still don't want to go home. I need someone to talk to. " He dialed the number again only to receive the same reply. He tsk
ALL he could do was to shake in fear. He wanted to meow and cry but he couldn't. He should remain silent, praying that the darkness in the alley could conceal him from them; the darkness would somehow make him forget that beside him were two bloodied cadavers. He also hoped that they would not notice him as they did to the kittens weeping inside a plastic bag. Why did he choose to hide here from the dog? This is too much. 'Someone, save me. ' The air smelled rusty, from all the blood that had spilled. Shards of debris and garbage scattered to the ground from the broken wall and garbage chute. The clang of two metals colliding continuously, creating tension. Each blow promised a threat of death to each other as they swung a huge sword made of platinum; sweating and grunting heavily due to the weapon's weight and force needed to exert for defense and offense. It's dark and no