A young man named Shawn is walking home in the cool August rain. The refreshing shower is appreciated after the long string of scorching days he had endured for the summer. The man thinks to himself about how the Seattle rain feels refreshing to walk home in, at least, versus what the heat has been. He missed how often he used to walk before the heat came. The drip drop of the rain filling the clear Cascadian air as the sounds of traffic can be heard faintly in the background. The sounds of the city coming together and, well not being a symphony, the sounds still fill the man with nostalgia.

Breaking into his musings on rain and heat, he walks past a wooded park from which the sound of a man's grunting right before a cat's yawl of pain shocks Shawn. Wanting to investigate, the would-be passerby walks down into the park, investigating the source of the sound. It is here he sees a man swaying after what looks like a whole night and morning of drinking with a sick grin of enjoyment at the sound the cat made. This cat is clearly seen on its side, with its chest heaving as it tries to catch its breath.

Shawn shouts loudly, his voice booming across the park "Hey, what are you doing?!" Before running forward to stop the attacker, who not expecting anyone to come to see what he is doing, switches so fast from a look of joy to a look of fear it nearly convinces Shawn that maybe he never saw that look of joy on his face in the first place.

The attacker says, "I am sorry; I don't know what happened. This cat just attacked me. I was only defending myself." He looks shaken from what happened.

Shawn can't help but feel bad; Maybe yelling was a bit much. "oh, I am sorry, I thought you were… it doesn't matter Shawn says as he feels embarrassed.

The man looks apologetic "oh, I can see why you were so much about it the other man says as shawn walks to check on the cat. The cat looked so thin and ragged that it must be a wild cat living in the park that had just gotten aggressive. Shawn, having found everything looks the attacker says he is just about to get back up and call animal control, having already pulled out his phone, when he sees something and takes a second look noticing what looks like rope burn on its back legs looking around he sees some twine on the ground under the foot of the attacker.

"So what happened again?" Shawn asks as he slowly raises, only now noticing just how close the man has gotten to him. The man who is clearly now reeking of alcohol, looms over Shawn and the cat. "Mind taking a few steps back?" Shawn nervously asks as he moves his phone behind his back and switches to the camera app on his phone; he starts recording.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The man, now in touching reach, reaches in his pocket but doesn't pull anything out yet.

"Oh, you know a whore's cat who tried to bite the hand that feeds her, so it was being taught a lesson at least till some jumped up dumbass started to deserve a lesson more," the man slurs out.

"Look, everything is calm. Don't do anything rash here." Shawn looking fearfully, says. It is then when the drunk man pulls out a knife from his pocket. The blade now has all of Shawn's attention.

The attacker noticing this, smiles "oh, you scared now?" he asks as he smugly swings his blade. "Looks like you're nothing but a chicken, huh. Now be a good boy and leave," as he says as he leans forward, ready to attack if he doesn't get the answer he wants. Only to feel the ground which has been starting to turn to mud, shift leaving the attacker falling forward; the weapon outstretched falls almost in slow motion before, all at once, the blade stabs into shawn before the man hits him as he drops knocking shawn down the blade pulls out leaving the wound gushing.

The cat-kicking jerk booked it as soon as he saw the blood, not wanting to be found with a body, his face pale in fear and shock. Heh, whose chicken now shawn thinks before blacking out for a bit.

As Shawn slowly wakes, he feels the cold seeping in. He thinks to himself I can't help but feel the knife definitely hit something I would prefer if it didn't. His blood spreading on the grass, mixing with the rain and dirt. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want any knife wounds, but this stabbing is particularly unwanted. Shawn fuzzily thinks to himself, you know what it's starting to not hurt as much can't remember if that is good or bad, can't remember much actually like my mind is narrowing to a few stray thoughts like did I leave the cat on and who is going to help the oven you know I think there is something wrong with that, but I am just too tired to figure it out. At least the cat got away, though, I think anyway. His neuron's final jumps of logic unique only to those dreaming or dying. Jumping from thought to thought as his brain starves of oxygen.

You know I always wanted to visit Istanbul. His mind jumps to a song he half remembers, Istanbul no Constantinople; he starts to sing in a raspy whisper without thought of anyone around to hear.

The cat limps over to Shawn's face giving a few licks. Before everything goes black, his last thoughts are to wonder if hell or heaven will take him in from the cold and the warmth of a cat's tongue.