Imagination as his twisted.

A dark room, pitch black, waves of ink, a space of nothing. Its feels so lonely, so desolate, so empty. Sitting along, knees crouched and eyes wide open to the sight of blanks. And then, a figure appears. A blue cat no bigger than a calculator with a turquoise and coconut mosaic print on his luscious fur. He purrs and scampers around you jubilantly, making eye contact for minute lapses at a time: a shy, playful being sent directly from the sky. His eyes widen, his canines grow and his fur becomes a threatening ashen tint. Resin and game blood drips from the perimeter of his jawline in a fluid, consistent fall. The cat begins to resemble a wolf, with an arched back and claws the size of farming scythes, with bloodshot eyes screaming vengeance. The metamorphosis elapses and the creatures begins to blend into the darkness that surrounds you and before you know it, the wolf may have never been.