My Room
by Anthony J. Rapino
I have forgotten everything but this circle of artificial day. One naked bulb hangs in my solitary room, humming a yellow hue. Shadowy crevices hide hard edges. From the secret corners, sound comes. My twilight hearing acute, scampering quickness still eludes me in hidden pockets.
Reflective eyes give away location. I leap into the abyss and grasp fur. Teeth tear me, screams rise like sirens.
Blind and panicked I clutch the head and twist. It is quiet; I am safe. I drag the body, and in the light, the shape is familiar.
Then I remember--I have a cat.
Anthony J. Rapino is a regular contributor to Dark Scribe Magazine. His newest fiction can be found in Nossa Morte and Scalped.
by Anthony J. Rapino
I have forgotten everything but this circle of artificial day. One naked bulb hangs in my solitary room, humming a yellow hue. Shadowy crevices hide hard edges. From the secret corners, sound comes. My twilight hearing acute, scampering quickness still eludes me in hidden pockets.
Reflective eyes give away location. I leap into the abyss and grasp fur. Teeth tear me, screams rise like sirens.
Blind and panicked I clutch the head and twist. It is quiet; I am safe. I drag the body, and in the light, the shape is familiar.
Then I remember--I have a cat.
Anthony J. Rapino is a regular contributor to Dark Scribe Magazine. His newest fiction can be found in Nossa Morte and Scalped.
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