Kittens

I woke up just before the phone rang. There it was again, that sixth sense trembling throughout my body, that same wrench in my gut when something as yet inexplicable has been scheming to go awry. My body always knew, and it was warning me again. Two years prior, the fire that would consume our home burned first within my young flesh; a vague hot feeling of unease rose within my physical being like boiling water, before becoming that blazing apparition forever etched in my recurring nightmares. But there was no fire here tonight - just the disaccord of the shrieking phone amongst the stillness of the streets after a midnight rain.

I dared not touch that screaming messenger beside my bed, instead trying to shield myself beneath my blankets from the inevitable terror of the night. The ringing suddenly stopped, and saturated the air with pensive silence. My father's low and rumbling voice shook the windowpane behind my nightstand, escalating in pitch and intensity until it rattled as a cold metal cage filled with rabid, hungry rats. I fixed my gaze upon the shadow approaching beneath my door, counting my rapid heartbeats in time with the heavy footsteps drawing near.