Days I Haven't Died

"Call me," had been the signal to shut my phone off. Sorry, Kristen. ~Carnivorous Cats~ My left forearm looked as if it'd been used as a shield to fight off a relentless onslaught of cats whose claws had never before seen clippers. There I was, that fateful night, out far past my bedtime, wandering in the woods. The moonlight played with the wind and trees to create monsters and mythical beasts in the corners of my eyes, but little did I know the real danger lurking all around me. I could hear the hoot of owls, the flutter of wings. Nothing out of the ordinary, I'd been here many times. If I'd listen carefully enough, I could hear the soft skittering of mice as they cautiously crawled beneath fallen leaves and logs to avoid becoming late-night snacks. The mice. It must've been the mice that had attracted them, the smell of their weak, tiny flesh that had led the bloodthirsty kittens to those woods. Tripping over a broken branch, I landed hard on ...