I did not want to go down. Down into the dark where the creatures were waiting on the other side of the plank. Triple deadbolt locks, a chain and a bolt had been installed to keep them out. I vowed to never return and I had kept that vow. But there it was again, the plaintive mewl of a kitten. Milo had been missing for days. Could it be her? How did she get into the basement? Did she slip in while the locks were being installed? Mewling again. Scratches against wood.
Was it Milo or was it the creature? I could still feel it. Sentient. Evil. Searching for me with angry blood-filled eyes. With hungry curved claws. Mewling again. Could the creature be trying to trick me, mewling like a cat? Or was it somehow holding Milo hostage?
No way to tell, and no choice but to go and see. Retrieving the gun from its hiding place I tip toe to the door. Blood pounding in my ears. Hand trembling on the locks. Click. Click. Sliding the chain back, door creaking open to eerie silence.
“Milo!” I call quickly, but no kitten answered. Down, down into the mildewed darkness so heavy I can’t breathe for its weight. “Milo!” I hiss again. A blurry shadow bolts past me, and a tail whips through the open doorway.
Panic yells at me to get out of here and I obey without hesitation. Running to make it up the stairs my foot slips and I fall hard. The gun is lost in the dark. The basement door slams shut. Click. Click. Slide.
There you go! I love how you bring together the blood-filled eyes and the promise of being found in that single, powerful sentence: “Searching for me with blood-filled eyes.” It’s doing multiple jobs at once, all in motion. As I said before—economical and elegant on several fronts.
I might remove the word “angry”—for me, “blood-filled” already does the work and is actually stronger (angry is abstract, blood-filled is specific). But at this point, it’s really up to you. I’m thrilled. Craving more now.