It was 2AM on a Sunday night when I heard the yowls for the first time. I downplayed it at first, of course. Who hasn’t heard cats going at it before? No one, that’s who. Kicking my bike into a higher gear, I cruised by the source of the sound and looped around the roundabout at the end of the driveway, executing a smooth turn without lowering my speed. The wind was in my hair and it was turning out to be a great day for my daily night cycle.
That was, until I passed by the row of bins again. The sounds had intensified, and I could tell that they were coming from outside the condominium. That figures, I thought to myself. Management would never allow stray animals in here. Amazed by the clarity and intensity of the howls, I took out my phone and recorded a short clip, before chuckling to myself and pushing away.
However, they were still there the next day. The same sounds, softer this time, but unmistakably the same pair of rascals. My curiosity getting the better of me, I decided to try to look for them this time. I wasn’t into cat voyeurism, but I had never actually seen them doing it before in person, despite having heard so many instances of it.
Taking the short path off the roundabout that ran parallel to the outer walls, I cycled towards the side gate that the garbage disposal truck used. It would no doubt be locked at this time, but I might be able to peek outside and get a glimpse of what was going on.
Squeaking the bike to a stop (the walking path leading to the gates was a steep incline), I was disappointed to find that the sounds had abated in the time it took me to circle the roundabout and arrive at my destination. Only a few low growls petered weakly out of the bushes across the road, lit dimly by the sickly yellow glow of the streetlights. What was odd, however, was the direction of the sound. My ears clearly pointed to the source being those bushes, yet somehow it felt as if the sound was right there with me, behind the very gates I was peering out of. The fact that I could not see any movement at all in the bushes did nothing to help with the weird feeling of dissonance I was feeling.
Brushing off the feeling towards the back of my mind, I gave my surroundings a cusory glance as I got back onto my bike. Nothing. Just another incline back up to the walking trail on the other side, and a row of bins that lined the wide gravel road at the end of the wide driveway. Surely the cats have had their fill of fun by now, I huffed to myself as I inched up the incline. Hopefully they don’t bother me again tomorrow.
I was wrong.
The sound was back the next night, and clearer than ever. To be honest, it was starting to get on my nerves too. My deep night bike rides were supposed to be silent, peaceful, a time for me to escape from the stress of the day and just cycle. And now it was being ruined by some horny felines. I resolved to get to the bottom of this. Maybe giving them a little scare might break them up?
The sounds could clearly be placed this time, emanating from the row of bins that I had observed the day before. That was just at well, it meant I did not even have to leave the condominium to deal with them. Angrily grinding my bike to a halt in the semi-darkness, I rang my bell at the base of the incline.
Silence.
The sounds had ceased just as abruptly as I had begun. Good riddance, I echoed mentally as I dismounted. Now to find them and break them up once and for all. However, I had taken but two steps when the hairs on my arms involuntarily stood on end - all of them. I came to an abrupt halt as an irrational surge of fear locked me in place.
It was then that I noticed the cat. Loafing on one of the green recycling bins, it had been watching me the entire time. I had not noticed it, not only because my eyes had not fully adjusted to the darkness, but because I had been so fixated on locating the source of the noise on the ground. Looking at it more carefully, I was struck by its posture. Somehow, it gave off the air of a protector, a watchful guardian, even though outwardly it looked completely relaxed.
While all this was running through my head, the mystery cat got up and hopped over to another bin, having deemed me as harmless. The familiar yowls resumed, and the feeling of sensation rushed back into my body. Taking a breath, I stepped back towards my bike and rang the bell once again, prepared to chide myself for letting my imagination get the better of me.
The cat swiveled its head to stare at me again. The sounds coming from behind the bin paused yet again. The breath in my lungs hitched as our gazes fell on each other.
A small eternity passed as I stood in place, two pairs of eyes locked in concentration. It would’ve been comical to any passer-by, a stranger holding up a bike having a staring contest with a cat. But it felt surreal to me, somehow eerie and unnatural in a way that defied explanation. When I could move again, I hastily mounted my bike and exited the scene. It certainly felt as if I had crawled away with my tail between my legs, even though that was technically impossible.
When I arrived back at the safety of my apartment, though, fear gave way to anger. How could I have been put in my place by a mere cat? Even worse, I had let it get in the way of finding the real troublemakers! I pulled out my phone as I admonished myself inwardly, navigating to the recording from the first day. I would listen to it and convince myself that these were just ordinary cats doing ordinary cat things. Pulling out my headphones, I slipped them on and pressed the play button.
I could not have been more wrong. As the yowls and howls filled my ears, I was once again struck by how unnatural it sounded. Yes, it did sound feline in origin, but something about it sounded…primal. Almost…yearning in its intensity. Rolling my eyes at myself, I hit the pause button. I must be going off the deep end, I reasoned to myself. Too much work is causing you to hear things that aren’t there.
Still, I clipped a flashlight onto the front of my bike. If I ran into those bastards again, I would find them and settle this once and for all, creepy cats be damned.
My wish would be granted the very next night. The all too familiar sounds grated on my eardrums as I neared the roundabout. Swinging the bike around the bend, I pedaled furiously down the path. My righteously furious self was determind to redeem itself, a move that would shortly prove foolish.
The sound of my brakes squealing noisily added to the commotion as I came to a stop on the gravel driveway. Unclipping the flashlight from the bike, I cut through the darkness with a flick of a switch as I walked towards the bins. Sweeping the beam across the top of the bins, I noted that yesterday’s mystery cat was nowhere to be found. Haha, maybe he finally got a turn with the female-
My train of thought froze in place as the light landed on something wholly unreal. The mystery cat from yesterday was mounting something. It had the shape and size of a cat, but it was clearly not a cat, because its skin was pink and hairless.
That in itself would’ve been scary, but what was truly frightening was that the mystery cat was being shrunk right in front of my eyes. There’s really no better way to describe it, the poor cat was being preserved by the second like one of those shrunken heads. One could almost hear the dry, brittle sound of skin stretching over the victim’s frenzied howls as it deflated like a balloon.
It must’ve been less than a minute, but to me it felt like an hour had passed before the sound petered out, and the ungodly creature’s victim stopped moving. With the abscence of noise came some of my wits, and I breathed out a raspy “what the…?”
The creature, or whatever that thing was, must’ve heard me, because it crawled out from underneath its poor victim and scampered away. However, in doing so, for a brief moment I could catch a glimpse of it, and that moment shall haunt me for a long time.
No, it was not because it looked grotesque or gory. It was because of the overwhelming wave of pure, unadulteraed fear that swept over me as soon as its body was visible. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, a mixture of panic and dread that compelled me to turn away and flee, yet paralysed my very being simultaneously. Oh, I would never wish this sensation of trepidation and hopelessness on anyone, I was sure that had the creature stayed in view for much longer my knees woould’ve buckled in sheer shock. As it was, I only ever caught a glimpse of it, a blur of pink flesh that scurried under the bin. Its rapid departure also signalled the going of my paralysis, though my hairs remained on end as I turned and fled as quickly as I could. spraying gravel behind me in my haste to escape.
I am ashamed to admit that I seriously contemplated taking a day off, having been so utterly petrified by what I had witnessed the day before. It took all of my courage to drag myself out of bed, then downstairs. I felt silly as I walked out into the bright sunlight. Nothing bad can happen in broad daylight, right? I reassured myself hesitantly as I walked towards the side gate.
I would come to regret my decision almost immediately, as the little truck that towed away recycle bins came screeching around the corner. On top of it lay the mystery cat from the night before, now, a husk of its former self. Even though it was a scorching day by all rights, the blood in my veins froze as the pitiful bag of skin and bones came into focus.
The feline’s face was frozen into a permanent snarl, one that belied unspeakble terror and suffering even in passing. The eyes were wide open and glassy, and the mouth was perpetually wide open in anguish, as if its soul had escaped through that very orifice during its last moments.
In case it wasn’t immediately obvious, I no longer go cycling after dark.