Kitty Cuisine

Kitty Cuisine

​Her screams were high-pitched, filled with pain and trailed off into a blood-choking gurgle. She died quick but lasted longer than the others had, five minutes. I counted the seconds. I always do. I wanted to know how long I’ll have to suffer when it’s my turn.
​I saw and heard what killed her. The shadows on the walls were of cats, dozens of felines nipping and kneading at her flesh. Their meowing sounded starved.
​I could tell she was being eaten alive as the cats’ pangs of hunger went silent. By watching the shadows, I could tell they were gnawing on her neck, limbs and torso. She tried to fight back by flailing her arms and kicking her legs but there were too many cats to fight off.
​Her screams and cries faded. I could tell she died. All I could hear now was the cats fighting over pieces of flesh and their content purring as their stomachs became full.
​After the attack, a man wearing a butcher’s apron exited the room. He pushed a dolly with a metal barrel on it. I don’t know its contents. But I think they were the remains of that girl. Strands of hair flopped over the edges and blood dripped down the sides.
​The man returned and dragged the guy next to me into the room by a leash. The guy tried to break free but he failed. He knew what was coming, those bloodthirsty cats.
​And I know why we were being dragged into that room and fed to the cats. A light above the door lit up a metal sign below. It read, Kitty Cuisine: Recipe Testing Room.