[Momo]

  Date: 11 November 2024

  They say cats are curious.

  I think I'm more than that—curious, restless, and maybe just a little bit foolish. But I'm just a five-month-old kitten. Can anyone blame me for that?

  Before the world turned upside down, I was just a black kitten living in a small apartment filled with warm sunlight and the scent of disinfectant.

  My human—my everything—never let me out of the house. Not even for a minute. He watched over me with a kind of love that felt too big for my tiny body to contain.

  And sometimes? It felt like a cage made of affection. I'd scratch the door just to hear it creak. I'd paw at the windows to feel the glass tremble.

  I wanted to see the world—not through his arms, but with my paws.

  I didn't know his name. Still don't. To me, he meant warmth, safety, food, and scolding looks, especially when I tore up his books.

  He is a strange blend of father and mother, always rushing off in scrubs, coming back smelling of metal and sharp chemical tang.

  When he came home, he would always feed me. The food he gave me was okay. I still prefer his human foods. Those? Those were delicacies! I had never seen him go hunting. I wonder how he conjured the food.

  I remember—only faintly—three little fluffy wriggling shapes that used to press against me. Eenie, Meanie, and Miney. Their scents are whispers now, fading with each passing day. But sometimes, when the apartment is too quiet, I swear I can still feel their tiny bodies huddled next to mine.

  We were a litter. Now I'm just... the leftover.

  That night, everything changed.

  It was just another ordinary day—well, ordinary in the sense that nothing unusual happened for a while. I had spent the morning chasing shadows and batting at a bottle that my human had dropped. After that, I curled up in the sunbeam by the window.

  Life had become predictable. A little too predictable for my liking.

  And then it happened. My human did the thing he always did: He left. Off to that place he calls work, smelling like chemicals and sweat.

  That day, he didn't latch the door properly—just a little gap where I could slip through.

  My feline eyes widened with a shimmer of hope at the possibility of an adventure. The hallway called to me, like a new world full of mystery and excitement.

  There was no one to stop me.

  No hands gently scooping me back up and telling me, "Don't go out there, Momo. It's dangerous."

  No, this was my moment.

  I looked back and scanned our apartment. My cozy secret spot of carton boxes lay haphazardly in the corner. His books and clothes were scattered around the couch.

  Should I just walk off like that?

  Father would scold me if he finds out.

  I pondered for a full second.

  Nah, I will come back before he reaches home.

  It will just be a brief saunter.

  I hopped back to the door and nudged it with my paw. Just enough to widen the crack. My heart raced with excitement as I pushed through.

  Fresh air.

  The hallway smelled different—cooler, less musty. A whole world of possibilities lay outside.

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  The moment my paws hit the floor of the hallway, I took off like a streak of lightning—well, if lightning were small, black, furry, and a little crazy. I darted between the legs of shoe racks and couches.

  I tripped over a rug, but I quickly recovered with a well-timed somersault. Am I a superhero?

  Oh, a stairwell!

  The stairs were tall, so tall—each step felt like a cliff. I shivered a little.

  But I was a brave soldier, and this was an adventure.

  So I hopped down with little kitten energy, scampering like a tiny squirrel on a caffeine rush. On the third step, I accidentally knocked a vase off the landing and watched it tumble down.

  Clank.

  I found a new sense of achievement. It could be my new pastime.

  Oh, someone yelled at my back. Savage.

  I skedaddled.

  

  

  Outside, the air was strange—fresh, alive.

  The smells! Oh, the smells! There was something in the air that made my whiskers twitch with delight. Fried food. Wet pavement. The scent of an old dumpster mixed with something sweet.

  Oops—it's a poop.

  I sniffed. A beagle's poop.

  I winced.

  Rustle. Rustle.

  A plastic bag flew to me. My eyes lit up. Without thinking, I leaped at it, paws flying through the air as I tried to wrestle it to the ground.

  Success! I had it!

  I wasn't sure why I loved it, but the crinkling sound might be the most amazing thing I'd ever heard.

  

  

  My eyes widened as I took in the vastness of the unknown.

  I wasn't sure where to go first, but my paws instinctively took me toward a street on my left.

  I bounded into the alley, tail high, excitement buzzing through my body. The world was so much bigger than I had ever realized. Cars zoomed past, the air filled with their roar, but I wasn't scared.

  Cough.

  Cough.

  The dust made me gag.

  The ground beneath my paws was so different from the smooth and shiny floor tiles back home—it was rough and gritty.

  I chased after a little bug skittering across the pavement, my paws barely missing it. I darted left and right, giggling every time I pounced and missed.

  I was free!

  I was sure I could go anywhere. The world was mine for the taking.

  But then, something strange happened.

  In the narrow part of the alley, between two tall buildings, I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

  A flicker.

  A shimmer, like the air itself had bent in a way I couldn't understand. It wasn't like a shadow. No, it was... different.

  There were little shards of glass floating in the air.

  I padded closer, whiskers trembling with curiosity.

  Are they crystals? They are so shiny and pretty!

  I sniffed at it, ears back.

  Beyond the shards, another place shimmered—a damp and musty world. The air inside felt thicker, stuffier.

  Something about it made me stop in my tracks. It was almost like the alley was holding its breath.

  My paws itched to move closer. There was a strange pull to it, an unfamiliar danger. I felt its weight. Someone—or something was watching me.

  

  

  I'd felt something like this once—the feeling of being watched. Something had looked back at me when I stared too long into a crack in the wall underneath the couch.

  It felt wrong. My fur stood on end.

  No, I want to go home.

  I backed off and wanted to bolt.

  Then came a voice, cool and smooth."Well, aren't you a brave little shadow?"

  I froze. My heart skipped a beat.

  I spun, but all I could see was a hand—long, gloved fingers reaching out from the dark, barely visible.

  I hissed at it. Arched my back and puffed up my fur.

  The figure was shrouded in a crimson red robe. Its face was hidden from view, underneath a black veil. It barely stood to my human's knee.

  And a fluffy, striped tail with alternating rings of brown and black.

  A human who was not a human.

  I turned back.

  I tried, but my legs were slow. The world twisted around me. My paws grew heavier with every step.

  I stumbled, a feeling of dread creeping through my tiny body.

  My mind screamed to run, but I couldn't.

  And before I knew it, I felt a sharp sting—something cold and quick in my neck.

  I hissed, but it didn't matter.

  The world tilted and spun, my vision blurring. Everything around me turned into a soft, suffocating blackness.

  The last thing I saw was the light from our apartment window, far above, flickering like a star I'd never touch again.

  "For the greater good. For Vhor'Thala," the mysterious non-human whispered into my ears.

  Vhortala? Vor...talla?

  I didn't know. I only felt a chill down to my bones.

  I didn't care about the greater good.

  I didn't care for Vortalla.

  I just wanted to see the sky.

  Help me, Father.