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Curiosity Killed The Cat?
by Michael S. Collins

The Cat sat alone on the mat, purring happily. Grooming itself. Guarding its treasure. The dark corridor gleamed in its minds eye, and the beast watched the shadows as they frolicked alongside each other. Its eyes burned fiery green into the darkness. Waiting.

From the other end of the corridor, He could see it. He could see the cat. It was waiting for him. The eyes looked hungry, like a starved panda in a shopping mall. The man crept down the corridor, hiding in amongst the shadows, hoping that they would keep him away from those eyes. He could see the eyes. He just hoped that they could not see him.

His pulse fizzed faster than the gin and tonic in his hand. The other hand held firm onto the wall. The shadows made their acquaintance with his and tried to tip the gin and tonic out of his hand. The man stood firm, back up against the wall, and watched the Cat's eyes, staring back.

It was watching. Hungry.

And yet it's treasure stood at its paws. He only had to reach it, and he was safe. The man took one step forward. Silence. The Cat would never know what hit it.

A loud sharp piercing noise screamed through the dark. It sounded like a TARDIS taking off, for that was his ring tone. The man flipped upon his mobile phone, the bright light shining down the Corridor.

A text. From a friend.

“Dear Curiosity, you found out how the cat has nine lives yet? Matt.”

The Man, Curiosity, fumbled his phone back into his pocket and looked swiftly down the corridor. The eyes were gone. The cat was gone with them. To where. 

And then before he could even let out a scream, it was on him. The text was left unanswered. And the Cat's eyes, well, let's just say they weren't so hungry anymore.

After that, the Cat sat on its mat, purring. Grooming. Because, you remember that old adage, don't you? The Cat killed Curiosity.