It was another Saturday night, bleeding into the early hours of Sunday. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I was just a child. My parents, my godmother, and her husband were having some drinks on the terrace of my house. At that moment, I noticed a small cat wandering in front of the house diagonally across from mine. Since I've always loved felines, I immediately jumped down from the terrace to go and catch it.
When the animal realized I was approaching, it turned to look at me. Just as I was about to touch it, it bolted down the middle of the street. I decided to chase it and ran after it. There wasn't a single soul on the block; it was only lit by the streetlamps. To the right, all the houses were closed, with only their terrace lights on. On the other side was a large soccer field, surrounded by some overgrown weeds. I can’t recall if the field lights were on or if the pitch was shrouded in shadows. The only sound in the street was the rustling of tree branches swaying to the rhythm of the wind, and on the ground where I was running, I could see their shadows moving.
I kept chasing the cat until I reached the corner where there was a store. The little feline turned the corner, and I decided to keep following, so I did the same. Next to the corner store, there was a house with iron bars. The cat slipped inside, and I stayed just outside. Suddenly, the cat stopped, turned around, and stared directly at me. What was terrifying was that its eyes were wide open, and they had turned a deep, glowing red. At that age, I was terrified; I flailed my arms and let out a half-scream. Immediately, I turned back, shouting and running all the way back home along the same path I had come.
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