Flash fiction Challenge: 200 words at a time part two

Chuck Wendig from Terrible minds has proposed an interesting challenge. It is a  5 part challenge in which everyone will write 200 words and continue someone else’s story. A little bit like a game of telephone. After everyone switches stories for 5 weeks who knows what the 1000 word result will have morphed into.

I missed the first week. But here is my continuation of  Heather Milne Johnson’s 200 words “The Corner” . Her words are the colored ones and mine follow. Hopefully someone will pick this up and continue it.

The cat stared at the corner of the bedroom. Her eyes were black disks with only a rim of yellow showing. She was stock still and it was creeping me out.

“Hey, Shadow!”

She didn’t respond, not even an ear flicker. As I watched her, goosebumps popping up on my arms, she moved. Rather, her fur moved. Her tail puffed out like a bottle brush and a ridge of fur rose up along her back, unfurling like a hoisted sail.

A low keening noise made my heart jump. A sound of fear, pain, and sadness, it was coming from Shadow. I’d never heard the cat make a noise other than a chirpy sort of meow or a raucous purr.

The keening continued, rising and lowering in pitch in an awful melody. I got out of bed, walked over to Shadow and knelt down. She ignored me, still staring into the corner. The keening got louder and her body vibrated with the effort of producing that ghastly noise. I lowered my head until it was on a level with hers, forcing myself to turn my head and look at the spot hypnotizing the cat.

And I saw what she saw.

The light from the street lamp across the way lit the corner with a bluish tint, highlighting the object of Shadow’s attention in the corner.

At first I thought it was a doll. It was propped up, stiffly leaning to one side.

I assumed it was a girl doll. It’s hair was standing out in all directions under an acorn cap worn low over her eyes. She wore a dress with a tight bodice and a flared skirt like a tutu. Looking closer I saw the skirt was made from the leaves of an oak tree. Her arms were bare as were her feet. She stood with a knitting needle in her hand the pointed end to the sky and the end braced against her foot. Her face was dirty and like all doll eyes her’s stared into nothing over my shoulder.

As I looked Shadow continued her keening

“Shadow. It’s just a doll. Look.” I said reaching out to pick the doll up.

The cat suddenly hissed and spit and backed up, while what I had thought was a doll lunged, knitting needle braced under her arm shrieking in a high-pitched tone. Her mouth opened displaying a set of serrated teeth.