Most mornings start predictably. Wake up, grab some breakfast, get dressed, check the clock, and head out the door with a to-do list already buzzing in your head. That was exactly how my day began—ordinary, uneventful, the kind of morning you forget within hours. The sunlight streamed softly through the blinds, the aroma of coffee filling the kitchen, and my thoughts were already consumed by errands and appointments, all mundane and familiar. I had no idea that within minutes, I’d be standing frozen in my driveway, staring at something that made my blood run cold, something utterly impossible to anticipate in the quiet rhythm of suburban life.
It was early, the kind of quiet time when the neighborhood still feels half asleep, when birds chirp faintly and the faint hum of distant traffic is the only sign that the world is waking. I locked the front door, swung my bag over my shoulder, and walked briskly toward my car, my mind running through every task I needed to complete. My eyes were fixed forward, lost in thought about meetings, deadlines, and the traffic I’d probably face. That’s when I noticed something unusual just beneath the car—a shape that didn’t belong in the familiar outline of concrete and asphalt.
At first glance, it looked harmless. A crumpled black shape pressed against the pavement, inconspicuous enough that anyone passing by might have ignored it. I assumed it was a stray plastic bag, maybe blown in by the wind during the night, or an old rag someone had dropped, forgotten and carried by the breeze. It seemed simple, ordinary, a small oddity in the predictable morning.
I froze mid-step, every nerve in my body alert, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. My first thought was that it must be a cat or perhaps a rat—disgusting, but at least explainable. Yet, as my eyes adjusted, I saw a flicker of light in its eyes, reflecting back at me with an intensity that didn’t belong to a bag, a rag, or even a small animal. The reflection was cold, deliberate, almost calculating, and a shiver ran down my spine. Curiosity pulled me closer, but every instinct screamed to stop, to retreat, to call for help.