Maine Coone

Anne was mildly drunk when she let herself in. It her a moment longer to operate the key and lock. The door stuck slightly, and she had to use her weight to open it. It took her a moment to adjust her eyes to the brown darkness as her right hand searched for the wall for the light switch. She gave it up after a moment, squinting into the entryway, focusing on whatever blocked the door.

Realizing that her grandmother's form blocked the door, she straightened and listened intently, possibilities running quickly through her mind. Easily, this time, she found the light switch, and that it was useless.

“Grammy?” she whispered.

She stepped over her grams form, whispering to her, again. Terror clouded her thoughts. Should she touch her gram, roll her over? Call 911? Even go into the condo? Perhaps her gram fell while fixing the broken light. Anne peered into the darkness, feeling watched. Paranoid. Her nostrils flared while a tick twitched in her upper left eye.

Out of the darkness a hurtling figure leaped onto her face. Screaming, she tried to stand, to pull the creature off her. She felt her cheek rip and warmth gush down her chin. In her hands, her gram's striped Maine Coone clawed and writhed. It's back claws tore into her stomach and its forepaws found their mark, sinking deep into her shocked eyes. She screamed, unaware of everything except disbelief. The huge cat sank his teeth into her jugular, his jaws clenching and sucking long after Anne died.