It was me. I know it was. I felt the muscles in my legs as they sat Indian style. The bend in my neck as I looked down. The weight of the book in my lap. The pages on my fingers. The binding digging into my skin. The warm feeling of being completely safe. Books have always been that for me. My safe haven. Nothing in the world is wrong when I am reading. Isn't that the point? You can go into a book and be someplace else, be someone else, if only for a little while.

But, it was never like this.

I mean, it's only natural, right? To imagine the scene in your head. To give a life to the characters. To give voice to the words on the page.

I never thought I would actually learn what those characters sounded like.

It felt as if… It opened in front of me. Like walking into a shadow box, skimming the surface as if I were a spirit haunting what should be words. I have a great imagination, but I never made it go 3D. In the back, my voice kept ringing out, describing exactly what I was seeing. It was highly disconcerting. Maybe this is payback for all those moments in my life I gave running commentary to in my head. I couldn't help but move a bit closer. It was then that I heard it. The overlap. The characters had their own voice, one I never would have given them before. It was thrilling and terrifying. What if I got caught? Would they even know? Can they even comprehend than an alien presence has infiltrated? I felt as if I was eavesdropping on something private. The dark, dingy room. The tub, filled with water. I dipped my finger in. It was FREEZING! How could I actually FEEL that? And why? Who would get into a tub with freezing water? Wait…dialogue.

"Are you ready, silly?" said a silky voice. I looked towards the headrest of the chair, knowing instinctively that a dark-haired tom was perched there, slyly looking at the woman sitting at the vanity, absenting staring at the mirror.

"Ready for what?"

Wow, she's staring at the mirror wearing a robe obviously getting ready for a bath in FREEZING water without knowing what's happening? And answering a CAT? What a ditz. Though, I heard him too. Does this story have talking animals?

"For our date tonight!"

"Oh? OH! Oh, yes. I'm getting ready."

I heard my voice in the background, "Oh, so the cat has coercion. That's interesting." Thanks for the tip, self. …This is so weird. What do I remember from before? Think… OH! The cat. The cat is the narrator. Maybe 3rd person will be read out loud as well?

I had everything planned. My fur fluffed out and whiskers twitched in amusement. She didn't see. Never did. What kind of ditz would actually date a cat? No. My ability was working perfectly. She's completely under my control. One link. One clue. One path towards my goal. She is as blind as Genevieve. My partner Genevieve. Dear one. So cold. So alone. In the dark.

The scene began to blur. To shift. Looks like magical cats also can have an imagination.

I could see what he thought. The woman bound to a chair. One light shining down on the burlap bag covering her head. The strands of hair falling lank. Her head bowed, under pressure and strain from her situation. But, not her face. Never her face.

But, wherever she is, I hope she's smiling.

The scene shifted back. The woman at the vanity stood up and moved towards the tub.

I'm coming, dear one. I'll find you. Even if I have to torture and drown this girl.

I felt myself being pulled back with a gasp. It was like waking suddenly from a dream, grasping on to quickly fading details. Was I dreaming? It was so vivid. So very vivid. But, how often are you a spectator in your own dreams? Isn't the point being part of the journey, not standing idly by and watching as if it were a play? While I do have a fantastic imagination, my mind is having difficulty keeping up. I felt everything. Heard everything. Saw everything. But, was any of it real? Was he actually a cat or a figment from a three dimensional delusion? This is all very confusing.

So, this story has a cat and a human as partners. The human was stolen. Kidnapped. And the cat is desperate to find her. He has feelings, emotions. I cannot tell what feelings. It was only one scene. One intriguing scene that refuses to leave me. That's the mark of a good story. They become a part of your psyche. I know where I am now is real. The book in my lap. The smell of the pages. It is just hard to separate myself from that horrifying yet intriguing image. Will it be like this every time I read now?

Will it?

If so, I could see.

All these different books. Stories.

And I can SEE.

This is getting interesting.