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Curiosity Killed the Cat

You step a closer to the jacuzzi. The blood looks fresh, and drips out the sides like newly-applied paint. “Whose blood is it, and what happened?” you wonder, but secretely hope to never have to find out.
But, as they say, curiosity killed the cat. You walk up to it and look inside. You see the silloute of a small child. It couldn’t have been more than two. Where did it get all that blood?
All of a sudden you hear a noise. You jump, but realize it was only a light tap on the door. It gets louder and louder. And it’s accompanied by a strangly soft sound, almost like in an animal shelter. Just as you feel the crash of wood on carpet, you cower on the floor. You still don’t see the intruder.
And before you know it, there are footsteps right behind you. They’re quiet, but coming closer and closer. It almost sounds like claws tearing out the carpet.
Finally you turn around…and you don’t see anyone.
But when you look down, there’s a kitten the size of a fist.
And then it scratches you more and more and blood!

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