Running from a Jaguar

As I step out, the cool night breeze greets me. The streets are empty. It’s almost midnight, not exactly a prime timeslot for a jog, but it’s become my favorite time to hit the pavement. I’m off to the park a few blocks over, picking up my pace to warm up. Living in a medium-sized Midwest town has its perks, especially compared to the bustling streets of big cities like New York or L.A., where a night jog would feel like an open invitation for serial killers and all sorts of creeps.

The park is quiet and serene as I enter. The sweet scent of late spring flowers fills the air. It’s a refreshing change from the usual morning or evening crowds, where I, not looking like your typical skinny, perky jogger, often find myself on the receiving end of three types of looks, none enjoyable. First, there’s the sympathetic ‘it must be tough for her’ stare. Then, the encouraging but slightly annoying ‘good for you, losing that weight’ thumbs up. And occasionally, the superior ‘I’m way ahead of you’ glance from the more competitive joggers.

Honestly, they are inaccurate. I’m not here to lose weight or win a race - I love the feeling of running, the wind on my face, the music in my ears helping me zone out and unwind after a long day. Every look or gesture just pulls me out of my zen space. So that’s why I’m here, jogging at night, enjoying peace. Streetlights cast long shadows painting the scene with a soft, golden glow as I make my way through the park’s winding paths.

Then, I spot the hooded figure again. He’s out for a jog too, pacing ahead of me, veering off by the riverbank. The first time I saw him, last week, I’ll admit it, he spooked me. I cut my run short. Later I figured, why let another random jogger spoil my routine? So, I geared up with some pepper spray for peace of mind and hit the pavement again. This is the fourth time our paths have crossed. He never stops or makes any attempt to interact. I still keep the spray handy, just in case.

From a distance, I observe him, noting how effortlessly he moves. It’s almost like watching a ballet dancer. Under that hoodie, he seems to have a large, lean frame – broad shoulders and a slim waist, all moving with smooth, captivating grace that’s hard to ignore.

Then, out of the blue, the stranger comes to a halt. He stands motionless, gazing toward the river, in front of me,along the path I usually take. I slow down to consider my options. I could give in to the panic, turn around, and head home. The part of my brain that’s a vault for all the true-crime podcasts I’ve devoured is voting for that. But then there’s the bolder, more defiant side of me, the one that cherishes these midnight runs for their sense of freedom. If I back down now, I might never feel comfortable in the park again. And that means either hanging up my running shoes or enduring those all-too-familiar stares and patronizing thumbs-up. Just the thought makes me shudder. I decide to keep going.

I’m not the fastest runner - I prefer a pace that lets me go the distance. As I jog past the stranger, I muster up a bit of courage and say, “Nice weather for a run,” hoping thata combo of direct interaction and a flimsy human connection might deter ill intentions, if there are any.

He turns, and as our eyes meet, I freeze. His are like nothing I’ve ever seen – cat-like, yellow, with dark slits, glowing in the streetlight. I’m rooted to the spot, my jaw slack with shock.

So much for human connection. I’ve encountered a monster.

“Don’t be scared,” the creature speaks, his voice a curious blend of growl and purr.

Frozen in place, I’m trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. His features are an extraordinary combination – the wild grace of a big cat mixed with human traits. There’s a sheen of dark golden fur with black spots and whiskers, but his face also holds a distinct, square human jawline. It’s strangely alluring, even handsome in its own way. No wonder I’m frozen.

The existence of monsters isn’t breaking news anymore. When reports first came out about various creatures emerging from other dimensions, many, including myself, dismissed it as another wild hoax. Reality soon sank in. We learned about the existence of other worlds, home to an array of beings – dragons, ogres, orcs, and the like. It felt like a fairytale turned horrific reality.

Eventually, a new normalcy took root. Life had to go on, jobs needed doing, and the world kept spinning, only with this expanded awareness. Sightings of these creatures remain rare, with most people catching glimpses only through social media or the news. Until now, I was one of those people, never having encountered a monster firsthand.

“I mean you no harm,” the jaguar-man, for want of a better term, reassures me.

To my surprise, I find my voice, “Then what do you want?”

“I’ve noticed you and wanted to talk,” he replies, his head tilt so distinctly feline. “I’m a stranger to your world, true, but not a threat, unlike some others you might encounter.”

When monsters first appeared, fear drove many people to want their destruction.However, it soon became clear that the creatures varied greatly. Some, like the one before me, are highly intelligent, even learning our languages. Not an obvious threat. Still, all monsters are hunted and captured by governments. Aggressive, dangerous ones are quickly eliminated, by all means necessary. Others get locked up somewhere. This one has slipped through the cracks.

He seems to sense my hesitation, his yellow eyes softening. “I understand your caution. In your place, I’d be wary too,” he practically purrs. “I assure you, my intentions are peaceful.”

I nod, curiosity slowly overtaking my initial shock. “Why me, though? What made you want to talk to me?”

He glances towards the moonlit path we both frequent. “You’re different. Others run with fear, tension or aggression, you run with a kind of...calmness. It’s rare, and in my world, peace is a cherished trait.”

His words make me reflect. Despite the strangeness of this encounter, there’s an odd sense of understanding between us.

“Okay,” I concede, tucking my earphones away. “What’s on your mind?” I ask. “And, um, what should I call you?” I add, a bit awkwardly.

“Call me Erhan,” he answers, pulling back his hood to reveal two elegantly curved, cat-like ears that somehow suit him perfectly, making it hard for me to look away. “And your name?” he inquires.

“Vanessa,” I respond.

“Vanessa,” he echoes, his voice purring the syllables. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he compliments, and I feel my cheeks warming with a blush. Thank goodness for the cover of darkness - I’m not ready to reveal how his words affect me.

“So, what did you want to discuss? Anything about our world, or how things work here?” I venture, feeling a little out of my depth. “I’m not sure how much I can help, but I’ll do my best. You seem alright, and there are definitely some unsavory folks out there eager to catch...beings like you,” I say, carefully avoiding the word ‘monster,’ just in case it might offend him.

Maybe I’m being overly trusting with this creature. All those true crime podcasts flash through my mind, but they’re about humans. No one ever gave me a manual on how to handle a chat with someone from another dimension.

“I’m conscious of those dangerous individuals,” he remarks, his brow furrowing slightly, which momentarily reveals his sharp, elongated canines. But instead of intimidating me, his untamed appearance only draws me in more. “I’m curious about you, though. You seem to have a passion for running,” he observes.

“Yes, I do,” I admit, a bit surprised by his choice of subject.

“What does running make you feel?” he asks, his head tilting curiously.

I scan the area quickly, confirming we’re still alone. “It gives me a sense of freedom, peace. Sometimes it’s my way of channeling the day’s frustrations, especially when I’m listening to some intense rock music,” I say with a light laugh, then pause, wondering if the concept of rock music might be foreign to him.

“I see,” he says. “I could sense your enjoyment from the way you carried yourself. I wanted to talk to you, but I was worried you might be frightened of me.”

“I was, initially,” I confess with an uneasy laugh. “The first time I saw you, I bolted.”

“I am aware of that,” he acknowledges with a tilt of his head. “Yet, here you are, not running away.”

“Right. I decided I didn’t want fear to disrupt my runs.”

“That’s commendable. It’s pleasing to know you’re not frightened of me,” the jaguar remarks, studying me with an intense gaze.

“I’m still a bit wary.”

“That’s wise,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“Why would that be wise?” I ask, my alarm ticking up a notch.

“It’s good to be cautious for fragile creatures that humans are. Especially you, since you are so gorgeous, so appealing. Many of those who transfer to your world would like to devour you on sight,” he explains.

“Um…devour me?” I ask, confused. “You don’t mean...like wanting to actually eat me, right?”

“I’m referring to a different connotation of the word,” he says, his gaze sending a wave of heat across my cheeks and neck.

I recall a peculiar rumor about these creatures favoring women with curves, a tidbit among many that sounded too bizarre to take seriously. Yet, as he fixes me with that profound stare, I wonder if there might be a sliver of truth to it. His look carries an intensity that wraps around me like a warm cloak.

“Okay, I understand,” I manage to say, voice faltering. “But you’re not like the others, right?”

He tilts his head once more, a thoughtful gesture. “My desire is just as strong as theirs,” he admits. “It’s heightened now, with your scent mingling with the traces of your fear and... your reaction to me.”

I’m at a loss, managing only a soft, “Oh.”

“However, I have no intention of pressuring you. It’s all about consent. You asked if you could be of assistance, and so I put forth a request. Would you be willing to engage in a game with me?” he proposes, his expression earnest.

“What...what sort of game?”

“By nature, I’m a hunter. The thrill of the pursuit is what I crave. I wish to chase you, Vanessa,” he says, his tone soft yet intense. “And when I manage to catch you...” his voice fades into a suggestive silence.

“And what happens when you do catch me?” I probe, an unexpected thrill stirring within me.

“When I catch you, my desire is to devour your pussy, the scent of which has been driving me crazy since the moment I sensed you.”