Some things are not what they seem.
She heard the creak of a steel chair against broken floorboards painted in chipping yellow. A coppery smell and flashes of red before her eyes were accompanied by a spiraling wail that shifted into a low groan that came back again in a matter of seconds. It had been such a lovely day before then, all warm sunlight and the sounds of some tune about a dry county in Kentucky. But then the sun had gone down crimson. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight” echoed in her brain in her father’s rough vocal tones, bringing up the smell of the sea and crabs and his cheap cologne to her mind’s nose. The moon had come up orange and she’d tried to go inside to the glow of a television and the ‘ding’ of a microwave as it cooked one of a thousand meals.
But then the darkness had swept over her eyes, and a smell like chloroform mixed with oil and a dying fire had filled her nose. She remembered nothing more until the sound of the chair and the smell of copper brought her back to logic and sanity. This brought forth a sight that made her skin grow cold and her pupils widen. Before her was a strange beast. Its fur was black and streaked with dark brown, and she soon realized it was dried blood. The eyes were thin and blue, filled with hate, and glowing with something not of this earth. That was all she saw. A final gurgled sound erupted from her, and the beast fled back into the woods, sated for now.
“Oh, Rufus! There you are,” the old woman cooed, watching her cat emerge from the woods, eyes blue and bright. “Oh, but you’ve been in the mud,” she observed as she scooped him up, seeing the dried brown streaks. She took him inside to clean him, flicking the light switch as she hobbled inside.