Novel & Cerita Cat Hunter Creepypasta

He moved with me, keeping his arm around my waist and trailing the fingers of his other hand around my kneecap. “I’ve been around a long time,” he hummed. “And you aren’t the first hunter I’ve met. Besides,” he added, with a wry smile, “my very existence goes against the laws of nature. It would be… ill-advised of me to doubt the existence of other supernatural beings.” I made a non-committal sound in the back of my throat. He smiled. “Maybe that could be our first hunt together. The ghost of Wiley Manor.” I snorted at that. “Sounds like a terrible name for an equally terrible book.”

Catherine’s POV: Hunter’s wide and terrifying grin zoomed in my vision and I screamed. The pace of my heartbeat increased as I turned around to run away in empty darkness, where I ran endlessly for miles from the source of that voice. The unbearable stench of his smell waved my way as I ran in all fours towards the unknown. From a distance I can hear the loud volume of his demonic chuckle, making me whince and pant at the same time as I increased my pace.

But for Hunter, this was a perfect day to murder his childhood psychologist and kill the pain that had been living inside of him ever since his first meeting with her. He stood in front of her white wooden door and tried the door handle slowly and slowly it swung open, allowing him in. As the door swung, it made a creaking sound. Hunter stood by the door and surveyed the room. There was a black cat on her couch and when it saw Hunter it jumped off the couch and raced upstairs. This kind of reminded him of how cartoonists exaggerated a cat's jump whenever the cat felt frightened.

"Goodnight, Pudding." He hadn't answered. She'd heard him exhale through his nose—not a sigh, something closer to surrender. "You're really like a cat, you know that?" She'd looked up. "I'm not." "You curl up. Demand attention. Leave when you've had enough." "I don't demand—" He was looking at her with an expression she couldn't read. "Fine. Maybe a little." He'd turned back to his book. She'd gone back to her editing. Later, when he went into the room to sleep, he whispered a word:

Hence, I sent him my contact information directly. [Is this cat like a human?] [When she tried to nurse your daughter, she was actually trying to use another method to invade your daughter's body. Your daughter is the host body, and you're the main body. Essentially, you two are symbiotic. So, killing your daughter is the first step for her to complete the possession.] Marcus revealed so much information to me in just one minute. I knew I was in the right hands, so I quickly told him everything I knew.

I just shook my head. “Never mind.” I mumbled, folding my arms. I didn’t want him to touch me again. I already was feeling strange around him, like a safe aura. I didn’t like it. He was a bloodsucker, a leech… And I was a Hunter. A Vampire Hunter. “Do you want to get out of here?” He asked after a second. I wanted to say no, the more people that were around the better. If he got me alone, I wasn’t sure what would happen. But for some reason I also really wanted to say yes.

“Pssst! Young Hunter.” Looking back as he hears the same whispers that always wake him up whenever he is asleep in the middle of the night and whenever he is alone. The creeping shadows at first glance, that slowly shifting into a hideous monster and different from each time he sees them, are calling for him again for a game. “Do you want to play?” As it asks him, smiling from its slit mouth all the way unto its ears and playing with its long-pointed nails as its body contours in different directions wearing a blue tuxedo.

“Mmmm.” I let my inner demon out, giving her all the control. In mere moments, we were racing through the tunnels with Katrina by our side, moving between our legs at times and running along the walls, jumping off them at others. When we grew close to the human we were hunting, I growled loudly, loving the way it echoed as the very walls trembled with the ferocity of it. We rounded a corner, and I saw that little thief up ahead of us, running for his life with his hand on the wall, guiding his way. I sped up until I was right behind him, inhaling deeply before breathing on his neck and letting some of my saliva drip onto his skin, while Katrina swiped at his feet, causing him to fall to the

“Little shit’s slippery, though. Must’ve gotten it from his family. They were hunters, weren’t they?” I stiffened, glaring up at him from under my lashes. The third one stepped closer, crouching until we were eye level. His lips curled into a sneer as he leaned in, his nose brushing against my neck. “You reek of wolf,” he said, laughing darkly. “You must enjoy screwing us before you slit our throats.” Something snapped inside me. Before I could think, I reared back and slammed my forehead into his face. Pain exploded across my skull, but it was worth it to hear him curse as he stumbled back, clutching his nose.

He stands as the solitary living werecat, holding the potential to safeguard their ancestral bloodline. This subculture of Supernaturals was as diverse as it was majestic, boasting a lineage that included weretigers, werelions, wereleopards, werecheetahs, and even some domesticated cats. Astrid marvels at the intricate web of their creation, attributed to the Sun god Helios.