The beast

By Abhirup Senapati

In the darkness, someone was watching me very closely. Its eyes were yellow and glowing. Its teeth and claws were honed by the ages of survival. Ages of lurking among the human race, always silent, always close. The thing leaped, rising many times at its own great height. Once it had ascended, it stalked along the ledge, silent as a tomb, knowing what it must do.

From this great height, the beast had only to touch its prey, and the poor doomed thing fell through the air, coming to rest with a loud crunch.

The human, asleep, oblivious, woke up with a start, but it was too late. He ran and cried out, “No kitty! Bad kitty! That mug cost me a thousand rupees!”

“Meow” was the beast’s only reply. She had succeeded in destroying its prey.