Headed Home

Well, here's my first one. I hope you all enjoy it. It's kind of short, but I think it was made well enough.

It was late at night, and I was on my way home from the night shift at the ramshackle diner where I worked.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow. I turned to it. There was a cat in its place. I smiled, and pet it. “Hey, little guy,” I say to him, “you scared me for a second, there.” I got up, after a bit of petting, and turn. There’s a second cat. I stroke his back as I start walking again. The two cats begin to follow me. I heard a violin chord, and looked around. There were a lot of cats. This was a bad neighborhood, but I didn’t realize it had so many stray cats. I kept walking, guessing they were following me because I was an unfamiliar face. The violin again sounded, and began to play a melody. Normally, someone would have yelled some manner of obscenity out a window, but either no one else heard it, or they didn’t mind. By this point, I was nearing my house. I think. The street didn’t look familiar as I walked forward, but whenever I looked back, along with increasing numbers of cats, the street was the same as I was used to. Even to the sides, the houses were the same as they should be. I kept walking, guessing I took a wrong turn somewhere and would get to a familiar street. I reached an intersection, and, for a split second, I think I saw someone else on the empty streets. I looked up for a street sign, but found only an empty pole. “Damn it. They stole the sign again.” I say, but begin to run after the man I thought I saw. Every time I turned a corner, I saw him turn the next. Eventually, I reached a cul-de-sac. But he was nowhere to be seen. I turned, and there he was. Me, surrounded by the swarm of cats. “My cats are hungry.” I – he- whatever, said to me. “And you… you don’t belong.” The violin music stopped. He was holding a bow and violin in his hand. He pointed to me with the bow. The cats began to run at me. I began to run as quickly as I could away, jumping over fences and running through yards. I’d stopped caring about where I was. I’d stopped caring about what was going on. I stopped caring about who I was. I just cared that I was being chased. Everywhere, though, more and more cats were added to the swarm. I saw the doppelgänger of myself often, playing a silent tune on his violin. Eventually, long after I cared about him or even if he existed, I crashed into a door. My door. I quickly scrambled inside. The cats still stand at my door. I haven’t been outside in days. And there’s a haunting song echoing through my small apartment.