The purring was loud at first.

Too loud.

It penetrated me,

reverbated through me,

shook me from tip to toe.

Like a mountain crumbeling under the might of god.

Like the skies ripping apart by the seams.

The the whole world collapsing in on itself.

But it was pleasant.

Loving.

My hearing soon adjusted.

I have no idea how i can hear.

I dont feel as if i grew an ear or something.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I dont know how this is working.

But im glad it does.

As time goes on, i adapt to the whole thing.

The purring doesnt become any more distant, but it smooths out, and becomes absolutely wonderfull.

My energy feels a bit depleted.

But i can still move well.

I keep petting the large cat and it keeps purring.

Since i had the chance to, why didnt i wish for sight?

Well, i did wish for sight, but did i get it?

No, no i did not.

Who knows why?

Im a walking talking hand who's also a mushroom, why cant i grow an eyeball or two instead of hearing?

Woe is me.

I turn my focus from the cat.

The purring is soothing, but there areplenty of other nostalgic noises to be heard.

The screams of the wind, tumbling through this cave.

The song of birds, just outside it.

The footsteps of-,

footsteps?

Rythmic, heavy footsteps.

Thump thump thump.

It sounds human.

Is that a good or a bad thing?

Im gonna take it as a good thing, despite my unusual predicament.

The purring beside me stops.

The cat rises, leaving me on the floor.

It doesnt growl or anything, but i know this cant be good.

The footsteps come closer.

I hear a hushed voice.

It sounds like a man.

Faint breathing from the beast beside me.

It never struck me before, but even now, in such a tense situation, i still hear the birds chirping.

Is this how the mentally unsound feel?

A loud voice.

A growl.

Fireworks.

Silence.

Something wet.