Chapter 1
One evening, I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. It was the usual time when my husband and brother-in-law would return home from work, somewhere in evening. I was busy cooking when suddenly, I felt a presence near the stairs connected to the kitchen. Turning to look, I saw a black cat sitting there, staring straight at me. The intensity of her gaze startled me.
Trying to shake off the fear, I smiled and said, “Oh, it’s just you.” I poured her a cup of milk, and she quietly drank it before slipping away into the shadows. The next day, around the same time, the black cat returned, but this time she wasn’t alone. She had brought two more cats with her. I smiled, gave them another cup of milk, and watched as they drank itand disappeared again.
The following day, I was taken aback when five cats appeared on my doorstep instead of three. Laughing nervously, I said to the black cat, “At first, I was only feeding you. Now you’re bringing all your friends! I don’t have enough milk for everyone.”
The cat gave me a look that felt almost human, like she understood my words. And just like that, she stopped coming. Days passed, and I waited for her return, but there was no sign of the cats. I began to feel guilty, wondering if I had upset her with my remark.
Every day, I started placing a cup of milk by the stairs, calling out for her. Though she never came in front of me, the milk would always disappear. One day, as I set down the cup, I whispered, “I’m sorry. Please come back. I didn’t mean it.” The very next day, to my surprise, the black cat appeared once more. But this time, the stairs weren’t just occupied by a few cats—they were filled with them. Cats of all shapes and sizes sat silently, staring at me. My heart raced, but I said nothing, knowing I had called them.
Trembling slightly, I poured out a full pint of milk instead of just a cup. “This is all I can give you,” I said, unsure of what else to do. Incredibly, all the cats drank from that one pint, finishing it in mere minutes, then disappeared as quickly as they had come.
This strange routine continued, and I grew used to seeing them. One day, however, my husband’s birthday came around. We had a big family gathering at our house, with my in-laws, parents, and siblings all joining in the celebration. I was so busy cooking and preparing that I lost track of time. The cats arrived, but I was too engrossed in my work to notice.
Suddenly, one of the cats let out a loud, piercing meow, snapping me back to reality. Startled, I looked over and realized I hadn’t given them their milk. “Alright, alright,” I muttered, “I’ll give you your milk in a second.” But before I could pour it, another cat shrieked, this time so loudly it sent chills down my spine. Their voices were almost terrifying. Shaken, I quickly poured the milk and whispered, “I’m exhausted today. I’ve been working all day. I wish you could help around the house like humans.” I laughed nervously, trying to shake off the eerie feeling.
We finished celebrating, and by the time everyone went to bed, I was too tired to clean up. But the next morning, when I woke up, I was stunned to find the kitchen spotless. All the dishes were washed, and the living room and kitchen were immaculate, even though we had left everything in a mess the night before. Puzzled, I asked my husband and family if anyone had cleaned up, but everyone denied it. The mystery deepened when, each time I asked, I could hear the faint echo of the cats’ voices in my mind.
A few days later, the same thing happened. After a busy day with guests, I went to bed early, only to wake up to a perfectly clean house. Once again, no one claimed responsibility. The only answer I could think of was the cats. Their eerie presence was tied to everything strange that had been happening.
The next day, when the black cat and her companions arrived at their usual time, I finally asked her, “Was it you who cleaned everything?” She looked at me, then nodded—an unmistakable human gesture. I was stunned.
From that moment on, I realized these cats weren’t ordinary. Every time they returned, their power seemed to grow, and so did my fear. I no longer felt comfortable around them. Their constant presence, the strange way they communicated, and their unnatural abilities— it all became too much. Their meows would echo in my head even when they weren’t around, and slowly, I felt myself slipping into a state of unease, constantly on edge.
One day, out of desperation, I clasped my hands in front of them and pleaded, “Please, don’t come back. I’m terrified of you now. Your voices haunt me. I can’t take it anymore.”
And since that day, I never saw them again. But sometimes, my house is mysteriously cleaned when I’m too tired to do it, and a cup of milk still disappears from the kitchen each night. That’s when I know—they were here, silently watching over my home, even if I can’t see them.
