Excerpt:
A cat
appeared at the threshold of the doorway.
A cat? A
black cat? Are you fucking kidding me? How cliché.
Roger
moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed, only he didn’t.
Body won’t
obey. What the fuck?
You’re
dreaming. Simple. Sleep paralysis. Told you.
This is no
fucking sleep paralysis. This is happening.
Nonsense.
The cat
arched its back and rubbed itself against the doorjamb in a way that sent a
shiver of dread through Roger.
Sexual.
Can feel the lust pouring off the thing…
The cat
stretched, yawned lazily, the yellow slits of its eyes glaring in the dim light
coming through the gauzy curtains covering the bedroom windows.
Those
eyes…
The cat
seemed to grin at him as if sensing his discomfort.
It walked
lazily over to the side of the bed, coiled itself, then leapt up. It sat for a
moment, staring at him, tail twitching, unblinking eyes staring into his, lips
turned up to reveal its sharp little teeth.
Those
eyes…reaching deep into me, reading my secrets, measuring the weight of my
soul…
Nonsense.
The cat
stood and put a paw on Roger’s leg.
Cold shot
through him and he would have gasped if his body had allowed him.
The cat
grinned up at him, yellow eyes glittering, lips curled back, and took another
step.
It walked
up Roger’s legs, the weight of the thing tremendous, out of proportion, the
cold shock of its presence icy, penetrating to the soul.
Thing
weighs as much as a grown woman…
How can
that be?
Dreaming.
That’s how. Sleep paralysis.
Wake up!
No, this
is real. The goddamn cat a familiar or whatever the fuck they call them.
Don’t be
an idiot. Wake up!
The cat
seemed to relish the confusion and pain Roger was suffering, lingering with its
paws on each of his thighs.
Then it
lowered its head and butted his breastbone.
Pain shot
through his chest and for a moment he was certain his heart had stopped.
The cat
headbutted his sternum again and he found himself staring at the ceiling,
unable to move, shadows from the streetlamp outside making ghostly shapes as
the curtains swayed from the breeze coming through the cracked open window.
The
shadows began to take shape: a ring of figures, dancing, flickering as if they
were shadows cast by firelight. Trees in the background.
Smoke?
Wood smoke and something else…flesh and hair and…
The scene
suddenly so real Roger felt he’d been transported in place and time.
Nonsense.
Wake up!
The cat
walked up his belly to sit on his chest.
Weight
tremendous. Can’t. Breathe.
The cat
stretched.
And kept
stretching, growing impossibly tall, changing, morphing into…
An old
woman, breasts stretched out tubes of flabby flesh hanging down to her soft,
sagging stomach, swinging as she straddled Roger.
Those
yellow eyes stared into his, and the creature’s mouth opened, teeth a cross between
a cat’s and human, blackened, rotten, with sharp fangs intact.
A foul
odor issued from her mouth and added to the sense of suffocation. Roger’s mind
began to fray under the onslaught, claustrophobia claiming him, panic rising.
The thing
on top of him cackled again, sending a gout of foul breath into his face.
Roger
tried to buck her off. To gag. To cry for help. To breathe.
Total
paralysis.
Going to
suffocate. Going to die any moment now.
The deep
spot in his inner self was alive with panic, yammering at him:
Wake up!
Wake up! Wake up!
The thing
on top of him stiffened.
At first,
Roger thought it was nearing an orgasm of some sort, but no…
Another presence had arrived…
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