Scary Cat Scratch Stories Novels & Stories

“Are you alright?” “Yeah, I saw Zeek in my dream, and he was dead,” Kitty sniffled. “It’s all my fault. I just know it.” “Shh,” Cheryl tucked her friend in bed, then she snuggled up to the comfort of her blanket. Cassandra got comfortable in the coach. Katherine laid wide awake staring at the ceiling fan, spinning away. “An animal attacked him just like the others and ripped him to shreds!” She exclaimed, disturbing her friends from their dozes.

I looked at him, still feeling as if something was wrong, "What's up with you?" "Fucking rogue jaguars, man! They have absolutely no self-control." I raised an eyebrow inviting him to continue. "I had to rip one of those horny bastards off of some poor guy. He had him pinned down in an alley. The whole place smelled of fear and arousal. I think I got there just in time, too. Any longer and the cat would have probably been mid-deed." "Shit. Was the guy okay?"

Mom could never show her face there again. I blocked her number but continued having someone deliver a book of scratch cards to her mailbox every month. I was not worried about her winning big. Scratch cards followed patterns. The ones I sent were carefully selected from batches where the grand prizes had already been claimed. Ironically, Mom really did get sick, just like she had claimed when she tricked me into coming home. She had a stroke. She survived but could no longer take care of herself. She would spend the rest of her life in bed.

He was desperate to touch her soft skin, and the screams distracted him. Hearing those screams, he slammed the door open and came out hurriedly, fuming angrily. He saw a gigantic black cat whose mouth was loaded with fresh human blood. His hazel eyes were more scary and traumatic for him. He had never seen a black panther in his entire life. And the black cat sat on him.

The adorable little cat screamed as if he was frightened, unceremoniously revealed his sharp claws hidden under his palms, and scratched three blood marks on the back of Ding Ding's hand. Ding Hao felt surprised. Because of the adorable little cat's reaction, Ding Hao was extremely surprised. In the face of Ding Ding, a harmless little girl, the cat turned out to be extremely scared. Something that made Ding Hao feel strange happened the next moment. Unexpectedly, the three bloody wounds on the back of Ding Ding's hand were healed and disappeared the next moment at a speed that was noticed with the eyes. No scars were left on her hand, which was still pink and tender. Ding Ding didn't seem t

It seemed like it was going to rain heavily. Charity looked up and said softly to the skinny cat, “Oh well, do you want to… come home with me? My house is quite spacious.” The cat meowed before it looked down and ate the fish seriously. Charity thought the cat agreed, so she stretched out her hand to hug it. However, the wild cat ended up extending its sharp claws and scratching the back of her hand, leaving a scar on her hand. “Tsk, tsk. Are you having a brain fart moment? This wild cat is highly vigilant. Did you think it was similar to a domestic cat?”

Phantom seemed daze, mewling and curling up on itself like a pill bug. “Oh my God,” Brad said, reaching out for the cat. Phantom cried out again, took a swipe and scratched Brad’s other hand so that he now had a matching set. Phantom scuttled away, limping but otherwise seeming to be unharmed. “I’m so sorry,” Brad said, tears slipping down his cheeks as he got to his feet. The cat gave him a wary look, hissed, and moved as quickly as it could to the far side of the library, taking refuge under the chess table.

Yet that scar above his eyebrow added another 20 years. Her attention returned to the path. From the dark trees, a horrifying rustle stole her attention. She froze in place, wide eyes scanning for the sound. What was that? Her heartbeat wildly. She waited for the villain. He’d jump out of the bushes. A high-pitched yowl made her jump. A feral grey cat ran across the street, disappearing into the murky shadows. Clarissa could not hold back the nervous giggle. It startled her into stepping forward again. She smiled loosely when she heard the sound again.

Intrigued, I chime in, "What did Chloe say, anyway?" Winter takes a deep breath and glances between us, preparing to explain the strange situation. "Alright, here's the deal," she starts, sounding like a seasoned storyteller. "Chloe, our dog-whisperer friend here, claims she was attacked on the neck by a rabid street dog months ago. Scarlett, being squeamish, was totally grossed out by it."

*Kieran* I can still feel the sharp rips in the skin of my back where that fucking cat sunk it’s claws in, and my hands ache from the scratches that forced me to let it go before I ripped it in half. I don’t know what the fuck is happening in this place, but something is wrong, and I don’t like it.