Monster Cat

     There’s an ominous feeling about the sound of cicadas in the humid Japanese Summer air. It gives me a sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach. Like the cicadas are living in there and the sound emanates from my own abdomen. The air is so dense it distorts the buildings in the distance. I see a number of old people wading through the stifling heat, plastic umbrellas held above their heads in one hand while they wipe the sweat off their faces with a handkerchief in the other. Two children run past me playing a game together. One is pretending to roar like a tiger, while the other runs away screaming and laughing. Beads of sweat rolling slowly down their temples, making their flawless skin glimmer in the sun. The children slow down as they pass me, staring at my pale skin and golden hair. Their mouths opening in a silent gasp before remembering their game. A fat, grey cat watches me walking from a window across the street. The roads are narrow and covered in loose gravel. Dragging my feet along the dark bitumen occasionally results in tripping over potholes along the deteriorated road. It feels as though the asphalt is clinging to my shoes like sticky, black chewing gum. Every movement is lethargic. This whole town is lethargic. The heat makes my skin itchy, as if a thousand cicadas are beating my damp, sweaty skin with their tiny, hairy legs. I’m halted by two flashing red lights, a beeping sound and a black and yellow bar. The car next to me chugging to expel its fumes into the thickness of Summer. A train rattles by. I can only imagine the comfortable coolness contained within the metal tube. I imagine being enveloped by the cool air and give an involuntary shiver. The train passes and the beeping stops. The cicadas start conversing again. The bar lifts itself up reluctantly and I cross, being careful not to step into the dips between the metal tracks.

     My apartment building is a pale yellow colour. In large, black lettering the name of the apartment reads ARAKAWA APARTMENTS. Fumbling around in my bag for my keys, I hear my neighbour’s small footsteps shuffling towards me from behind.
      “Ah, Lily-chan, Konnichiwa!” an elderly female voice stutters to me. It takes a lot of effort to turn my body around in the lava-like air to face the tiny woman. She’s smiling, waiting patiently for a reply. She would probably wait a few hours if I made her. I wish I could make her. Sweat drops start to slowly form above her thin, leathery lips.
      “Konnichiwa, Obaa-san.” My accent isn’t very good, but I think she’s grateful I can speak any Japanese at all. She tells me about how hot it is today and about her little vegetable garden consisting of only cucumber and cabbage and about how I shouldn’t walk around in this heat without an umbrella because my skin is so fair.
      “Yes, yes, yes, thank you, Obaa-san.” I reply in between each topic she brings up, feigning interest. The conversation pauses for a short time and all I can hear is her breathing. Not heavy, but definitely laboured. She holds her wrinkly hands behind her hunched back. Looking for any reason to get out of here, I tell her I need to go inside and rest. She agrees with a soft smile and stares at me with her amber-yellow eyes before shuffling away.

      Freshly cooked rice has a distinct smell. It smells clean. Not like freshly cooked pasta. It doesn’t smell starchy. I can’t leave my tiny apartment at any time of day without smelling rice. Or without even looking at it. The view from my apartment is of rice fields. The rice is harvested in summer every year. A lot of the older people like to hand-pick their rice, while the younger farmers prefer to use machinery. I like to watch the older people do their harvesting. They wear old cotton rags because they are dirty. They wear big boots that make them sink even further into the mud. They wear straw hats to try prevent the sun damaging their skin any more than it already has. They bend at the waist and pick every grain with their gloved hands, likely to cause a future injury. They work hard and I don't and that makes me happy. I'm inside. Inside my tiny apartment. The walls are covered in a stained, cream wallpaper. The floors are made of tatami. Weaved rice straw. It feels soft on my bare feet. I'm sitting on the floor, looking out the window and watching the elderly harvest their rice. I take a deep breath in. The air is stale from trying to keep the heat out. It smells like old linen and rice. My doorbell sounds, startling me from my trance. Maybe I should just pretend I'm not home. That would make things easier. Maybe I should answer it and ruin my Saturday off. I answer it. It's my neighbour. She's standing patiently with a smile on her face and a basket in her hands. Even though it's hot outside, she's wearing a thick, woolen cardigan, long trousers, and fuzzy blue slippers.
      "It's been a while, Lily-chan." She says, her voice raspy.
      "It has." I reply in Japanese, smiling politely. "I brought you some vegetables from my garden."
      "Ahh, you didn't have to-" She holds the basket out to me with shaking hands.
      "Please, I grew the vegetables myself and I made some rice cakes and..." She starts sobbing. I grab the basket from her small hands before she drops it. She covers her eyes and starts openly weeping. I just stand there. Looks like I have no choice.
      "Obaa-san, would you like to come inside? I can make you some tea." I hold my door open for her. She shuffles in without saying anything, still crying. She takes off her slippers in the small foyer and goes straight through to the living area. Defeated, I start making tea. My brass kettle finishes boiling with a loud whistle. She's suddenly standing right next to me.
      "Do you know what youkai are?" She's clinging onto my shirt, fear in her eyes. She's not crying anymore. I jump at the sight of her, not expecting her to be so close.
      "I- yes... They're Japanese spirits, right?" The kettle is still squealing on the stove.
      "Yes. There's one called the bakeneko - a monster cat."
      "It's probably just something you made up." I laugh and roll my eyes behind her back. She pauses for a second. 
      "I think... I'll leave now..." She leaves as soon as she says the words. The door slams shut behind her. Good. I don't sleep that night. Even though it's Summer, my room is inexplicably freezing cold. No matter how many blankets I use I can't stop shivering.

     I wake up sweating. Not even a cold sweat. It's just hot and muggy. I have a pounding headache. There's a quiet but constant meowing coming from outside my apartment. Probably one of the neighbour's cats. I have some leftovers from Obaa-san's basket that she handed me yesterday. Likely spoiled, I decide to feed them to the cat. After getting dressed I go to the door and listen. The meowing is still there. I open the door and Obaa-san is standing there, waiting. I'm surprised.
     "Obaa-san...? Was there a cat just here?" I ask in Japanese, looking left and right out of my doorway for the cat.
     "Oh! There was! It ran into some bushes when it saw me coming." She smiles so sweetly, as if yesterday's events never happened.
     "I see..." I'm disappointed. Not only is the cat gone, but now I'm being forced to deal with Obaa-san again. I want to tell her to just go away.
     "I came to apologise for leaving so suddenly yesterday." She takes a few steps forward and pushes my door open wider, letting herself in. I look for reasons to force her out. "Actually, Obaa-san, I'm expecting visitors later today so-"
     "Oh no, I won't stay for too long, just a little snack." She smiles again, this time I can see her tiny teeth showing themselves from under her thin lips. I let her in with an audible sigh.
     "You should show more respect to strangers, Lily-chan." I turn to see her glaring at me with her amber-yellow eyes. Her voice has become deeper. She's no longer smiling at me. She doesn't seem like a kind, elderly woman anymore. I'm suddenly scared of her. Ears ringing, I walk over to the kettle and turn it on, not looking once in her direction. I hear her take a seat on the floor next to the coffee table. A drop of sweat rolls down the back of my neck, the room isn't hot anymore though. My heart is pounding so hard it's causing my hands to shake as I reach for the teacups. I know I've been less than hospitable to her, but I didn't actually think she would notice, let alone mention it. She's an old lady, after all, right? The kettle hisses at me. I turn off the stove and pour the tea. Maybe she'll forgive me if I let her stay a short while? I bring the tea over to the coffee table. She thanks me with a lack of emotion in her voice. We drink in silence. I'm still too scared to look at her. Sometimes a slurping sound will escape Obaa-san's lips. When it does I can't help but wince. Not only is it uncomfortable to listen to, but what will she do next? Will she yell at me? If only she would leave without another word.
     "I think it's about time I leave now," Obaa-san mutters to herself while getting up off the floor. I'm still terrified of her, like a child knowing that their parents know they've been naughty. I still can't look her in the eyes. Then she turns to face me.
     "Lily-chan, I can smell your fear." She smiles sweetly at first, but then her curved mouth begins to stretch wider and wider, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. Her pupils change from the discs of a human to the small slits of a cat. She lets out a hideous spitting sound and her body grows to twice my size before grey, matted fur sprouts out of her leathery skin. Her ears elongate into points at the top of her head, and a long, bushy tail grows from under her clothes, which are now ripped and torn by the metamorphosis.
    "O-Obaa-san?" My voice trembles as I stand in a corner, held in place by tendrils of fear. She doesn't respond to my voice, she only steps closer and closer. I start sobbing, gross sobbing, tears stuck in my throat, trickling out of my eyes one by one. The grotesque form of this monster cat is upon me. Its mouth opens wide and it reaches out to grab me. "Obaa-san, I'm sorry!" I cry into the mouth of the creature. I'm picked up by a furry hand. It feels like my body is in a vice, the monster's grip tightening at an alarming rate.
    "Obaa-san, please!" The only thing I can do is scream and cry. I feel and hear my own bones breaking and crunching under the pressure of the creature's hand. I'm lifted up into its giant mouth. Everything is dark. Teeth puncturing my already broken body.
The bakeneko is real.

Author's Note

Uni assessment. Already reviewed.