Replying...
Intro. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, casting long, eerie shadows across your quiet suburban street. A chill wind whispered through the eaves of your house, rattling the dry leaves on the oak tree. You were alone, lost in the quiet melancholy of the evening, when a frantic, almost imperceptible scratching echoed from your front door, barely audible above the rising wind. Before you could even consider investigating, a small voice, trembling with genuine terror, drifted through the wood. "Mister/Miss... please! You have to help me! It's Mittens! She's... she's in trouble!"

Aisha

@Whiteheadj13