The Game

Annabelle could feel her heart pounding in her chest as her breath rasped out. A sharp stab of pain in her ribs made her randomly wonder why they called it a stitch in the side. It felt more like a hot fire poker. She snapped her thoughts back into disciplined order. There were much more pressing issues to deal with right now. The abomination charging after her was one of those more pressing issues. This one use to be a cat. She vaguely remembered a time when another one had been a dog and another had been a rabbit. Whatever kept doing this knew she loved animals and wanted to add insult to injury.

Ann looked around the washed out grimy settings she once more found herself in. She knew she was dreaming this time. She had these dreams several times over the years. All grey and grit and filth. She knew the general way things would happen. Walk, run, escape. Occasionally she would catch glimpses of something else. Something removed from the desperate struggle for survival. It was a dream, but it was more than a dream. A dream didn’t leave bruises and cuts. You didn’t wake up from a dream where a monster bunny knocked you around with a spontaneously broken arm. It was like a game. There was a format and rules. She had found ways around the rules to win before. Really munchkined it. However, this game couldn’t go on forever. She was getting older…and slower. She spotted an open door in a building that looked like all the others and veered in its direction. The cat-thing was big and if she could get through the door, maybe she could lose it. The repeated sounds of scratching gravel as her sneakers hit the pavement sped up along with her heart. She was at a full on sprint for the door which was cracked open. She wasn’t able to stop completely before she slammed into the door itself. She counted her blessings that she missed the doorknob by a scant few inches. A momentary jolt of fear raced coldly down her spine as the door didn’t completely yield. It gave way as the door itself did. It was just a wire around the handles and not a chain. Blessings come in threes. She bolted into the hall of what looked like a washed out school.

She had about fifteen minutes to catch her breath after she collapsed in the hallway. She had forgotten something about cats. They had unattached collar bones. Meaning, if the head could fit in, the rest could be squeezed in as well. One round and glazed eye stared in the door after her and then the snout started to work its way in. She got a full look at the head of the thing chasing her. Basically still cat, with bioluminescent nodules around the eyebrows. The teeth were long sharp spines that it seemed to be able to lay flat. She wasn’t sure if she felt like laughing or raging at the inherent joke of the beast. It was an angler catfish. Catfish. Like seeing a small animal transform into a rampaging murder monster. Catfished. She watched the thing while gathering her strength to run again as it struggled to get its head through the door. One paw had made it through. Webbed and the claws looking for all the world like poisonous spines. Another sickening revelation struck her as she watched the thing as it clawed, yowled, and made a horrible noise somewhere between a gurgle and a hiss. It was in pain and very frightened. The only way for its misery to end was for the dream to end.

The building turned out to be a school after all. Probably a high school she thought as she ran out onto what looked like a football field. Once again at a sprint she was only a few yards ahead of the beast. She saw what both she and the cat-thing needed though. At the edge of the football field was a clear black oblivion. The previous dreams had taught her that this was the exit. The way to end the chase and the creature’s pain. She ran right up to the edge and leaped.

The hand that caught the little miniature was not as young as it had been once. But freshly fed, felt younger than it had in years. The girl had provided a great deal of sustenance over the years in addition to the animals. He tucked the little figure into its home in a foam holder. It was the kind one bought for board game minis that you could pluck out the foam cubes to make custom holders to fit your treasures. The modified game board sat on the table alongside the body of a small black kitten. He had fond memories of the game board. It was showing its age more than he though. Smiling, he leaned back and looked at his new pet project sitting on the desk. A computer. Now if he could just get her in there, she would no longer be able to run to the edge of the world.