Almost a story in a tweet

Sarah was sipping her wine in the fading evening light. Outside a strange, white cat miaowed plaintively. Sarah went out into the dark to give her unusual visitor some cuddles, but on arrival she found a tuft of white fur, a red collar and no sign of any cat.

On the floor glowing paw prints disappeared down the garden path. It was already quite murky, but Sarah was intrigued. Tentatively, she followed the prints into the darkness.

The path seemed to be longer than usual. Or was it the wine? At the bottom of the garden the shed door was open. In the doorway, a fluffy tail flicked from side to side. Sarah walked forward, whistling.

At the door, Sarah stopped. She couldn’t see at all and was feeling nervous. From the depths of the dark shed, she heard a small miaow. ‘Kitty?’ she said and whistled again. ‘Come on.’

A heart-pounding screech as a flash of white fur raced past Sarah’s left shoulder, knocking her sideways. At the back of the shed, two piercing red eyes burned in the darkness. Sarah heard a low, rumbling growl.

Terrified, she ran back to the house, tripping and stumbling as heavy paws pounded the path behind her and foul, hot breath prickled at her neck. She reached the house and slammed the door shut.

A large fox-like hound slammed against the door, its breath and spittle smattering the glass. Its lips curled back showing its yellow fangs and its eyes burned evil red. Sarah backed herself into a corner and reached for her phone.

Her phone was dead, and her mobile was God knows where. The huge hound paced outside, snarling and glaring, its head low. Sarah felt rooted to the spot. On the kitchen table was blowtorch. And a knife.

She chose the knife. Its red eyes, narrowed by a snarl, drilled into hers. The door swung open. Slowly, its paws stepped towards her, claws clicking on the lino, counting down the seconds one by one. Her fingers closed around the knife. Three, two …

A swirl of white screeched over the hound's face. It howled in pain as the white cat sunk its fangs into one ear, holding on as blood trickled into its eyes, blinding it for long enough. Sarah rushed forward with the knife blade at the ready.

The phone rang. ‘Do you want pizza or fish and chips?’

On the TV screen, the wolf lay dead with a cat sitting next to it.

This started out as a tweeted story but I didn't quite finish it. Here it is. Bit of fun, hope you like it.

Photo from Wix