My eyelids fluttered opened, the fan turning in circles above me. I slowly extended one arm to the right, moving my elbow back and forth to loosen the stiff joint. Whilst doing the same thing with the other arm, I looked around the room I was in.

Bright, pink curtains hung from the windows, keeping back most of the shining light from the world outside. I cracked my neck, it stiff as well, and gradually got to my feet. They felt like jelly, almost like they couldn’t hold up my weight. This was odd. Shaking slightly, I made my way to the window.

Kids were running around outside, dragging their little dolls or broken stuffed animals behind them through the mud and grass. Exhausted parents watched on from porches, rocking slightly in their chairs as they sipped on their glasses of tea, grateful for a break from child-rearing, An old woman walking her dog stopped, watched the children, and smiled as she went on, probably remembering the time when she had her own little ones playing in the yard.

I frowned. I wanted to be out there with those kids, I didn’t know why, but I had a desire to join them. They looked so happy, laughing and galloping through the ankle high grass. I wanted to feel the sunlight on my chest, I couldn’t remember the last time I had had that feeling. Strange, I couldn’t really remember anything from before I woke up.

A loud thump sounded from downstairs. I heard a child’s voice, yelling, “Mommy! I’m back from Angela’s house!” Another sound, footsteps I think, greeted where the voice had sounded from. She said something, but I couldn’t hear through the muffling door and floorboards. Shortly afterwards, I heard the pounding of feet on steps.

Someone was coming to wherever I was. Did they know I was here? Why would they leave me in this room, instead of taking me to Angela’s to play? I got angry, and started to grab the little trinkets in the room and throw them around. Little china teacups shattered against the wall, while books got knocked all over the floor. I tore through the perfectly made bed to my right, pillows and stuffed animals flying everywhere.


I grabbed one of the stuffed puppies. It was cute, I admit, huge button eyes and fluffy fur. But I had a hunger inside me, I wanted to kill. Grabbing the head, I pulled and bit the neck as hard as I could. Fluff filled my mouth, making it dry, but I kept tearing and pulling until nothing but shreds was left of the little thing.

Not good enough, I thought. I still had the urge. Turning around the room, I saw a little cage stationed on the desk. I went over deliberately, turning my head slightly to see past the little bars. A little creature squeaked, this one covered in real fur. I licked my lips.

A banging from down the hall could be heard as I held the little thing. It squirmed as I leisurely pulled its neck farther from the adjoining shoulders. It was being loud now, annoying me slightly, but I kept at the pace I was going. Once there was enough room, I lunged down and bit into the flesh. The thing screamed, convulsing in my hands, but I continued to dig farther down. A liquid ran over my mouth, which surprised me; the puppy hadn’t had this weird substance inside of it. Soon, it stopped moving, and I leaned back, looking down at my prize. Torn flesh and bones were clumped together with red thickness, a little mass in my paws.

The door next to me slammed open, hitting against the wall with a lot of intensity. “Fluffy,” the girl chirped, “I’m here for that tea party we arranged with Mr. Biggles.” She stopped, staring down towards me, a wave of shock and fear flying over her face. Eyes wide, she screamed, not the happy yell she’d used to call to her mom, but one of horror.

Behind her I saw myself in a large, hanging window. Beady eyes surrounded by a big mane starred back, little droplets of red falling from the stitched mouth. I was nothing more than the puppy, a figure of fuzz and fur. The girl then fainted, her face absent of any color, and I dropped the bloody thing I was holding.

Pounding could be heard heading up the stairs, so I knew I didn’t have much time. I ran to the window, jumping on the chair, then the desk, and onto the ledge. There was a crack between the window and the wooden windowsill, so I slipped my paw inside and pushed with all my might upwards. Success, the window flew open with the force. Wind whipped through my hair, and I gulped looking down. It was a lengthy drop from here.

Leaping, I was pounded on all sides by the force of intense wind. Falling was all I could think about, and the pain I would fell once I hit the ground. I spun and swerved closer to the pavement, when I finally landed square in the middle of the street.

My back ached from the fall, a little stuffing falling out of a cut, but I stayed still. I hadn’t really thought past what would happen once I’d hit the ground. Before I jumped up to make my next move, I heard something coming towards my form on the pavement.

“Oh mom, look!” a voice sang out beside me, “It’s a little lion! Can I keep him, pleassssse?” She emphasized the last word, obviously begging her mother. Shadows covered my unmoving beady eyes. I stayed still, not wanting to frighten another child.

“It’s filthy,” another, more womanly voice stated, “I’d have to wash it and stitch the back up, and get that awful paint of its mouth. But I don’t see why not, if you really want it.” I felt a little hand close around mine, and was lifted into the air. As I bounced, I looked out over her shoulder, seeing a tiny squirrel running across the lawn; I felt that urge once again.