I love the musical CATS to the point of obsession. (My family says past obsession) I have always wanted to play a part in it, except I have two left feet. For my seventeenth birthday, my parents gave me a plane ticket to New York City, a hotel booking for two weeks, and 3 thousand dollars. The thing was, I had to go alone.

After my flight got in I rushed to my hotel and got ready for a night on Broadway. I practically ran to get in line for CATS, and soon enough I was in my seat clutching a playbill and nervously waited for the show to start. My phone buzzed. Mom had just sent a text asking if I was enjoying my first night. I replied back "yes I'm on Broadway. Will text later" just as the overture was starting.

I admired Victoria's dancing, cried over Grizabella's rejection, laughed at Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser's antics and hummed along with "Memory".

The man next to me said at intermission, "You have an absolutely gorgeous voice."

I blushed crimson. "T-t-thank you," I stuttered. He bowed and left me with a kiss on my hand.

I pulled out a pencil and started doodling on my playbill. I sighed over the fact that I couldn't dance and be in CATS. Before I knew it the lights flashed for the beginning of act two. I glanced at my playbill and was shocked at my doodle. I had drawn a Jellicle cat. Not one that were in the musical, but if I was to be a Jellicle cat. My sketch was light gray with white stripes, a dainty head, and seemed ready to leap off the page and join its fellow Jellicles on the stage.

I stuffed it in my pocket as the curtains opened. I watched in anticipation as Macavity committed one dastardly deed after another; Grizabella was chosen for the Heaviside Layer, and finally as the final notes lingered, cheered my voice hoarse as the cast took their bows.

As the actor playing Macavity stepped up to take his bows, he twitched and stared straight at me, posed to take a bow. He grinned wickedly and a voice whispered, "back alley, after the show." I whipped my head around to see who had spoken.

I come from a small town, but I know enough to never go into an alley to meet a mysterious whisperer. Something in me, however, was pulled toward that whisper and curious to know who it was. The curtain fell, and I was bustled out of the theater. I turned toward the back alley, debating whether I should go back to the hotel and get a bite to eat or to follow this urging.

I scampered into the alley, a hand inside my purse, fingering my phone and Taser. (Yes I have a Taser. Moving on.) "Hello?" I asked to the dark. A pair of glowing green eyes stalked toward me. "Who are you? What do you want?" I cried, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

The eyes chuckled. "My dear, my demands are simple: just stay still." The voice was deep and smooth as silk. I stood still, trying to decide between fight and flight. I was turning to run when I started to tingle. The tingling started at the top of my head and shot through in waves down. Then came the pain. Excruciating spasms jerked me to my feet and onto the pavement, squeezing, pushing. Amidst the pain came that whisper, dark and sinister, "just remember: Curiosity killed the cat!"