The Cat to the Rescue
I bought a one-bedroom flat in an old part of town. The area wasn’t ideal, but I was on a budget, so I chose from what was available. The flat was spacious and bright, with high ceilings. However, the entrance was filthy and rundown, and there were hardly any young people around. Still, I was thrilled because it was my first major purchase.
After spending years in a dormitory, I had forgotten what having my own place felt like. Over time, the flat started to feel cold and very empty. It was indeed sparsely furnished, and I hadn’t even bought curtains yet. I planned to gradually acquire the necessary things.
In the evenings, the flat echoed with my footsteps, which unnerved and sometimes frightened me. But I couldn’t afford to buy all the furniture and do renovations at once.
One night, I woke up feeling like I couldn’t breathe, as if something heavy was pressing on my chest. Breathing was difficult. I tried to get up but couldn’t, as if I was pinned to the bed. Scared, I turned my head, trying to shake off the sensation. Eventually, I could breathe freely again. As I gulped in air, I heard the floorboards creak, as if someone was leaving the room. The old floors would creak as the boards moved.
I looked around in fright but saw nothing. My colleagues at work suggested it might have been sleep paralysis. Some even advised me to see a doctor, but I decided to wait and see. Maybe it was just a one-off occurrence.
However, a couple of nights later, it happened again. Once more, I was struggling to breathe, and then someone seemed to flee the room. This time, I heard a faint tapping sound, as if the person had very long nails. Despite this, I didn’t go to the doctor. For two weeks, life was quiet until the strange sensation reoccurred. This time, alongside the heavy feeling, there was a choking sensation. I was gasping for air, nearly losing consciousness. Eventually, it stopped, and I heard footsteps again.
The next morning, I discovered strange marks on my neck—bruises, as if someone had really tried to strangle me during the night. Terrified, I refused to return to the flat.
I stayed with a friend for two nights. Concerned, she took me to see a psychic, who insisted that someone had put a curse on me and promised to remove it. Together, we went to my flat, where the psychic performed a ritual for a long time. She assured me the curse was lifted, and I could sleep peacefully now. I paid her, and she left.
I went to bed feeling at ease, but that night, I was choked again. I awoke to the same heavy feeling, struggling for air. Grabbing my throat, I felt rough, cold hands around it. I tried to scream, but it was useless. When I attempted to pry the grip open, I heard a hissing sound. Fully aware I was being strangled by something perched on my chest, I fought back. After a struggle, the entity released me and raced from the room, its nails clicking on the floor.
Terrified, I dashed out of the flat and stood on the landing for several minutes. Then I decided to go back in. I couldn’t sleep, so I turned on the lights and sat in the kitchen till morning.
At work, everyone noted how pale and exhausted I looked. I didn’t tell my colleagues what happened, just blamed it on being over-tired. Afraid to return to the flat, I asked my friend if I could stay with her. However, I had to collect some belongings first, so after work, I headed back to my place.
While climbing the stairs, I met my neighbor, Mrs. Harris, carrying a box. The elderly woman stopped me and asked if I wanted a kitten.
I peeked inside the box and found an adorable white kitten with kind eyes. Mrs. Harris explained she’d found it near a shop and was trying to find a home for it. I don’t know what drove me, but I agreed to take the kitten. Perhaps I was scared to return to the flat alone, even for a short while.
With the kitten in my arms, I unlocked my flat. The rooms were silent. I set the kitten down and went to the bedroom to gather my things. A few minutes later, I heard my fluffy new friend hissing loudly.
I dashed into the kitchen. The kitten was standing in the middle, fixedly staring into a corner, loudly hissing with its fur standing on end. I couldn’t understand what was happening.
Undeterred, the kitten approached the wall and began clawing at the old wallpaper from the previous residents. I intended to stop him but then recalled many stories where cats sensed otherworldly presences.
Together with my furry companion, I started tearing off the wallpaper. In the corner, I noticed a recess covered with old newspapers. Removing those, I uncovered a peculiar bundle. Opening it nearly caused me to faint. Inside were bones, feathers, salt, and a small photograph.
The photograph showed an old, hideous woman with completely pale eyes, as if she was already dead when photographed. I was aware of such customs to take photos of deceased relatives, as living images were scarce.
I took a plate and burned the contents along with the photo. A foul smell filled the kitchen, forcing me to pinch my nose. My cat silently watched the burning. I could hear the sound of skeletal footsteps behind me, as the entity thrashed in agony, darting around the flat.
Soon, it was quiet. I had burned everything to ashes. I opened the windows to clear the stench, gathered my belongings and the cat, and headed to my friend’s.
After spending a night there, I returned to my flat. I noticed the rooms felt warmer, and the echo had almost disappeared. Maybe the issue wasn’t the emptiness but the presence of someone constantly trailing me.
A month later, I ran into Mrs. Harris again. After thanking her for the kitten, she said something peculiar:
“I always noticed that tenants in that flat would struggle to sleep,” the elderly woman sighed. “It seems it was all due to the lack of a cat. Animals are our greatest healers.”
I pondered her words, intending to ask what she knew about the flat, but when I opened my mouth, Mrs. Harris had already gone.
No one disturbed my sleep again, and beside me always snoozed my fluffy guardian.
