Nightshade

It seemed every night I awoke to a scratching sound under my bed. I always leaned over the edge of the mattress, attempting to catch a glimpse of whatever it may have been clawing away at my wooden floors, but it was never anything there. Though my sister told me I was hallucinating, quickly, I began thinking it was my cats. They held a record for ruining my clothes and furniture routinely, so it's not like they were innocent.

Coincidentally, whenever I awoke from my slumber in the morning, each would be laying in my bed, stretching in their grotesque manner as I opened my eyes.

With every passing day, I began growing increasingly paranoid. I was positive they knew I was onto them. I could see it in their cold, lifeless eyes. Each would glance at the other anytime I looked back at them as I prepared for work. They were plotting against me.

So I began scheming against them. At first, my attempts were subtle. I would leave out Lillie's on the dining room table, knowing they were toxic to cats, in hopes they would devour them as they did every and anything else that was mine. But, they didn't so much as look in the direction of the Lillie's. No, they were too smart.

I began growing tired of their constant mocking. They paraded around my room as if I was some type of imbecile, incapable of outsmarting them. I couldn't let the cats get the upper hand... So, after countless failed attempts at getting them to eat the Lillie's, I then upgraded to leaving out what most cats found irresistible: tuna. Though to us humans it is not toxic, if a cat consumes too much of it, they befall to mercury poisoning.

Unfortunately, even the tuna went unnoticed by the cats. They just stared upon it as days passed without even the slightest bit of food filling their bellies.

Something wasn't right about those cats. I mean, why would a cat willingly starve when food was readily available to them? They either sensed my devious intent or they simply didn't have an appetite. Either way, they sure as hell didn't budge. So after trying everything I could to rid of the damned cats, I made a trip to the attic; The attic that housed my .22 long rifle.

As I searched my attic for the rifle, I came across a box I had long forgotten about. It was the box the two cats were in when I found them on my doorstep. Curious, I opened the box, locking eyes with what was inside. Slowly, everything began to make sense. The markings on the box, written in what appeared to be a language I had not taken in years, suggested the cats could not be destroyed. I skimmed through the dialog, ignoring the grass at the bottom of the box before coming up with a sinister plan.

Hastily, with my newfound courage, I walked down the attic's stairs toting a rifle in one arm, and the box in another. I called for the cats once I sat the box on the ground, awaiting for them to approach but neither so much as purred. Instinctively, I walked into my room and found the two laying on my bed, stretching as they always did.

"I'm so happy you two are in here together," I said, aiming my rifle at each of their heads.

They both seemed to glare at me, hissing as I applied pressure to the trigger.

Boom.

One down.

Boom, boom, boom.

The other tried to run, but he wasn't quick enough.

Eagerly, I approached the two dead cats, a smile overwhelming my face. Though adrenaline surged through my body, once I kneeled before their small corpses, I noticed something odd. Not a spec of blood exited their wounds. I looked to my bedroom's wall, expecting to see blood splatter, but there was nothing.

"What kind of cats doesn't bleed," I thought to myself.

But, I shrugged off the observation as a new one arose. An overwhelming stench permeated throughout the room. Plugging my nose, I rushed towards the box, readying to throw them into it. But, once I returned, I noticed something strange.

The cats were crawling with maggots. The fresh bullet holes seeped out the disgusting pests as I slowly stepped closer. They began crawling on my sheets as I stood before the decaying cats. Kneeling, I could tell they had been dead for a while. Days, even. Their bodies were cold and stiff, well into rigor mortis. But, it was impossible for them to have been dead long enough to be crawling with maggots. I saw them stretch on my bed this morning. I saw them moving. They even scratched at my floors as I slept. But, the putrid stench in the air derived from their decomposing bodies. There was no way they could've been alive minutes prior to me shooting them. No way in hell.

So I went into shock, falling to the maggot infested bed as tears streamed down my cheeks. Attempting to wipe away the tears, I realized I was still holding the box in my hand. Naturally, I glanced down at the box, reading the writing now recognized as my sisters. On the front it read: a gift to you, Riley. Slowly, I began to remember the cats being an early birthday present. Looking into the box, with tear filled eyes, I noticed the bounties of dying flowers. But, one in particular caught my eye... The single nightshade flower hidden amongst the grass.

"Oh no," I repeated, dropping the box to the floor.

The nightshade. I had mistakenly eaten one of it's berries the day I opened the box. I remember now... They died the day I received them because I hurt them. I hurt them bad for plotting against me. It was the nightshade. My sister was right. I was hallucinating.