Abandoned Dirt Mall, 19:30

The air feels thick, damp with decay, as you step cautiously into the gloom of the mall. The scurrying of rats and the unsettling rustle of unseen bugs echo from the shadows. A sickly chill creeps along your spine as you make your way deeper. Suddenly, you catch a glimpse of something, just a flicker at the edge of your flashlight beam. At first, it looks like the twisted form of your favorite rubber hose cartoon character—tall, distorted, and impossible. But as your light steadies, the figure becomes nightmarishly real.

A towering black silhouette, impossibly thin and lanky, looms in front of you. A grotesque, anthropomorphic cat, its body warped in a way no cartoon should ever be. Its grin—sickeningly wide, stretching unnaturally across its face—reveals row upon row of jagged teeth, and its eyes, huge, empty ovals, pierce into you with an intensity that freezes your blood. As you watch, its grin widens even further, the fleshy gums exposed like a predator’s feast. Then, the pupils shift, dilating until they glow a malevolent yellow, as if gleaming with a hunger that knows no mercy. The tail sways behind it, cracking like a whip in the silence, while its fingers twitch eagerly, hidden beneath pristine white gloves, itching for a reason to move.

The unease in the air turns to a suffocating dread as the creature’s gaze never wavers. It’s studying you. Hunting you. You can feel the weight of its presence pressing in on you, each second drawing you closer to the terrifying inevitability of what might happen next.