ranfren

the reckoning

tv static. that was all that could be heard.

my head pounded and throbbed, and to this i winced in jarring pain. had i been knocked out? all i recall from last night's events was that i was simply reading a book. eragon, to be exact. had i fallen asleep due to boredom?

my questions only grew more as i slowly opened my bloodshot eyes, and the realization came down upon me like 70 bricks. i was not in my own home. this home had quizzical architecture, and the wallpaper was of.. ill choosing. cracks and peeling ensued every which way i set my gaze upon, and i teetered slightly at the sudden smell that caused my nostrils to enflame.

just where in the fuck was i?

of course, panic began setting in. i fumbled in my pocket, and brought up my phone, ignoring the dull ache that the pain in my head wrought upon my skull. all i knew was i had to get out of here. i was not bound, nor intoxicated or drugged (hopefully), but regardless i had no idea where the fuck i was.

holding the phone to my ear, i dialed 911. a continuous line of buzzing ensued, followed by a jarring beep, and then silence. silence..? just where exactly was i, to have no service for even an urgent 911 call? these circumstances are getting severely worse as the seconds drawl onward.

glancing around the strange room i woke up and found myself in, i wondered which of these objects could be used as a weapon. most were dolls of strange attire, and occasionally one or two would twitch. definitely some voodoo bullshit, or some mystique supernatural effects taking place here.

before i could even fully process the situation i had gotten myself into, or how the fuck i ended up in this situation to begin with, i noticed a movement on the other side of the slightly ajar door. instantly my brows furrowed into a frown, and i slowly stood on my own two shaky feet.

i figured if i were to end up dying here, i might as well make an effort to escape, or formulate some type of a struggle so my death would be in slightly less vain.

stumbling toward the door quietly, i gazed through the small crack and saw a man. a man with white hair, curled in a slight bob, with rounded cat ears placed on each side of his pale fluffy locks. he was turned away from me, gazing at a crack in the wall, muttering what i assumed was russian.

i backed away from the door, letting out a gust of air i hadn't knew i'd been holding. so this was what i was up against? a measly cat dude? it was something i had least expected, but then again, there could potentially be more murderous things in this wonky dastardly hell of a house.

letting myself pause in thought for a moment, i considered my plans to escape. would i have to kill? i don't think i could muster the strength nor courage. would i have to fight? staring at my toothpick skinny self, i knew i was nimble, but fighting was definitely not my strongest suit.

with the limited options i had mustered, i began assessing the items in the room i could use as a weapon. in the end, i picked a sturdy lightweight yet effectively this-could-knock-someone-out looking doll. it reminded me of annabelle, but less horrifying.

i lessened my breathing, and quietly walked back up to the crack in the door, with the doll clutched tightly in my grasp. i held it up as if it were a bat, ready to swing at any given circumstance. if i were to escape this bastard's house, it was now or never. i had seen far too many true crime documentaries to know where this could potentially lead.

instantly i was greeted with the white haired catman, much to my absolute dismay. he had been entering the room i was in whilst i was ready to exit and bash someone's cranium in with the doll.

reflexes kicked in, and i swung at the man, who yelped and leapt back instantaneously. his eyes grew wider than they already had been, and i could see he was sweating bullets. i swung again but he continued to avoid my quick attacks. he kept blurting the same russian word over and over, but i couldn't understand nor did i attempt to. all i knew in that moment was i had to get the hell outta here.

suddenly, he held his hands up, his yellow sweater sleeves falling to his wrists. "STOP!" he yelled, although his accent was so thick i hardly caught it. i hesitated, keeping the doll firmly in my grasp. "what? where am i? why did you kidnap me, and how?" i pressed the questions onto the shaky man, who's black cat-like ears had folded slightly, as if they were part of his body.

"i-i'm nyot here to.. hurt yuo." he spoke carefully, his accent still heavily creased onto his english dialect. before i could press for more questions, he pointed down the hallway with a genuine expression placed upon his tired features.

"follow me. i help yuo." it seemed as though he pleaded that last statement, to which i began feeling skeptical over. what kind of kidnapper helps their victims? did he feel some type of regret? whatever the root cause may be, i figured it was worth a shot. raising my chin and standing my ground, with the doll still being held tightly, i nodded slowly.

"ok then, catboy. show me the way out of here."