I'm Going to Kill You, Boy

I wasn’t a strange child but I didn’t get on with the other kids at my nursery (except for a girl who I was found talking to occasionally under a table apparently but I have no recollection). The few memories I have of interacting with the other children were discussing dreams, most of them were very tame but after I described mine, they tended to leave. They aren’t any more horrifying than most other people’s dreams but for a 2 year old, they could be considered strange. A vivid one I remember was my mother dropping me off to see a doctor. It was in an antique shop because why should dreams make sense? After a while there was an earthquake which shook everything, the doctor told me to sit on a table, only to turn into a witch and banish me into a pit of eternal darkness. I really do hate it when that happens.

I’m afraid stories of weird literal witch-doctors aren’t what I'm here to discuss. Starting around this time I used to have recurring dreams set in our old house where a black cat would roam. I always knew it was evil, I’m not sure why but it always seemed to be a butch cat that could kill me with one swift flick of it’s paw. The dreams mostly went the same, I would see it in the hallway and run upstairs. The first few times, I would literally get bored and leave my hiding spot only for the cat to find me. Every time it would circle me, not in the friendly manner where it purrs while rubbing against your legs. No, it would walk around me, humming a low tune then stand on it’s hind legs, ending the dream by swiping at my neck. The later dreams became more frantic: I would run, it would slowly catch up to me and end the dream the same way. 

There was no real cause as to why I had this recurring dream, it just kept coming and going. The other children would usually show their interest in there being a cat in my dreams, sadly their expressions would change when they realised it wasn’t the type of friendly moggy they were used to.

Then came the final dream. Everything was different right from the beginning, I started in the kitchen which led to the hallway making me think there was no way I could get past the cat or up the stairs. Strangely, the feline in question wasn’t in the hall. I looked around only for a door to violently open. My older sister who I’ve rarely dreamed about was in the bathroom, she screamed for me to run in there because the cat was coming. I went to run but tripped. Then I heard the hum. It stood tall in front of me, it’s tail swayed excitedly and it’s eyes glowed with a lust for blood. It actually smirked at me, I was shocked of course but the fear slowly ran through me. I wasn’t frozen but I didn’t want to move or intimidate it. 
“I’m going to kill you, boy” It said in a deep voice.

It laughed at me as I paused, my sister continued screaming which wasn’t helping my nerves. After a few seconds she slammed the door shut, I was on my own. The cat began to circle me but I moved in front of it’s path causing it to turn around. There was a strange circular hole in it’s side, right above it’s hind leg. Inside was a constantly spinning array of sharp rusted-red metal that emitted sparks and a horrible screeching sound. I very quickly came to a stupid decision but in hindsight, it was the right call. I shoved my hand into the hole and the cat’s expression changed immediately. An awful howl of pain and terror filled my ears for what felt like hours. When I removed my hand, it was dripping with blood. I’m still not sure whose it was, mine or the cat’s. It desperately tried to limp away; it was too weak so it fell down. As soon as it’s head hit the floor, I woke up.

It’s been decades since that particular dream and I’d like to tell you it was the last time I saw that infernal feline. Truth is, it was until the night before last.

I was in my current home, a small flat in one of the eastern counties of England, I walked out of my room into the shared kitchen area. As I walked down the corridor, I heard a scraping sound. I thought it was one of my flatmates finally washing their pots and pans. When I turned the corner into the kitchen, there it was, sitting on the counter in a pool of a dark liquid. I didn’t think anything of it at first, this being the logic of the dream. However, it was staring directly at me; it’s dull red eyes following me as I walked across the room. I felt uncomfortable and picked up a discarded sock someone had left on the floor (an oddly common occurrence). I threw the sock at the cat only for it to jump into the air and land on the floor as a full-size black panther. It growled at me with a gleeful grin.
“Hello boy!” it’s voice was much more savage than before. It laughed as it edged closer to me, this time I did freeze out of fear.

Thankfully I woke up before it could kill me. I’ve written these accounts down for a reason. What is this thing? Why was it constantly trying to kill me as a child and why has it come back now? Being a student, I feared debt, failure and loneliness. Now I know, something stayed with me since childhood. Something that actually warrants and demands fear.