Moon Cat (unfinished)
written by Ash Wolfsone
Every night, at exactly 11.59 pm, she - it - would appear. It would be gone by midnight. But I never expected it to share secrets. . . If everything goes to plan, I will update this every few days (if I have extra time, maybe daily!) All reviews are invited :P
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
7
Reads
693
Five
Chapter 7
I took the hard option, for that day at least - dealing with it.
Stressed and cranky, I retired to my room after bringing the cats back in and making sure they were locked in a room that was too wrecked to be damaged any further. I took to binge-watching my favourite American series, and tried to forget the cats' behaviour in the comedy of the show. I soon discovered it was later than I realised. As I turned off the old TV, took off my glasses and wriggled about in the warm covers, I noticed a cool breeze chilling my bones. I had left the window open - how did I not realise that?
I slipped out of bed, feet padding softly on the carpet, and approached the window slowly. The curtains were caught outside, blown out and hooked on the old-fashioned window latches. As I reached out an arm to bring them in, I froze.
There it was again.
The cat wasn't a dream.
There it sat, looking weirder than the night before, staring. Intensely. At me.
I reached out, curiosity taking over my desire to snuggle back into bed, but the cat was too far. The branch was just outside my reach. How did it get there? What was it? In spite of myself, I asked these questions aloud, directly addressing the cat.
Its only reply was a soft mew, then it disappeared. Right in front of my eyes, just crept towards the end of the branch and vanished from sight! I stood there, baffled, staring intently at the spot the ghost-like creature had just been. This is a dream, I told myself again, but the cold breeze on my face and the shivers up my spine were too- too real. This can't be real, it's a disappearing cat! I reprimanded myself. But... was it?
I clambered back into bed, feeling too confused to sleep, but soon dazed off into a blissful snooze.
The next day, I rose early, refreshed by my short but invigorating sleep, and determined to discover what was going on with the spiritesque cat. I kept the cats busy in the kitchen, where there wasn't any wallpaper to scratch or leather furniture to urinate up. I popped over to my parents' house in the afternoon, and was surprised to find myself debating whether to tell them all, or Mum at least, about the cat at night.
One part of me said that Mum would tell me I needed more sleep and call me silly, so there was no point. Another part of me argued that she might be willing to help investigate. After all, Mum would be curious too - it was a weird family trait that she had rubbed off on us all. But I knew deep down the answer eventually: it was a secret I wanted to keep to myself. Just for me to know, me and the cat. It was kinda cute, after all.
I didn't mention anything about it to my parents, and was set to investigate again that night. When, to my child-like excitement, night fell again, I waited for ages, sitting in bed and waiting for the cat.
My eyelids soon became heavy. Staying up all night is hard, an immature voice pouted in my head. I smiled at my childishness, and suppress a yawn. Stay awake, Ginger! the voice now chanted. Stay awake and see the cat!
Somehow, I lasted until about quarter to 11, and realised the cat might not come. My hope dwindled, and I couldn't sit upright anymore, but at the last minute, I was startled by a soft mewl.
I gasped, leaping from my bed as if all of my energy was returned to me in that one gentle noise. I rushed to the window, and sure enough, there was the apparition. Its glassy eyes were like orbs, staring at the stars, rather than at me like the night before. Its blue-black fur was more like mist than body, all glossy and translucent with a fuzzy appearance around the edges. I was watching it, entranced by its mystical looks.
Suddenly, the cat looked dead into my eyes. To my suprise, it hopped onto another branch, slightly nearer to me. I reached out my hand slowly, my fingers inches away from the misty head. The cat mewed softly again, but I was disrupted by a sudden beeping.
I whipped my head around, only to see that it was my alarm clock. Annoyingly, it bleeped loudly every hour, something that had taken a lot of getting used to, but I didn't care. I looked back round at the cat, but it had disappeared. I scowled, frustrated that the clock had probably scared the spectre. I padded back to my bed, slipped under the covers and stared angrily at the red number on the digital clock. I soon fell asleep, but my last thought was: Weird... the cat-thing shows up at exactly 11.59 every night, and disappears a moment later... What is it with ghosts and midnight?
Stressed and cranky, I retired to my room after bringing the cats back in and making sure they were locked in a room that was too wrecked to be damaged any further. I took to binge-watching my favourite American series, and tried to forget the cats' behaviour in the comedy of the show. I soon discovered it was later than I realised. As I turned off the old TV, took off my glasses and wriggled about in the warm covers, I noticed a cool breeze chilling my bones. I had left the window open - how did I not realise that?
I slipped out of bed, feet padding softly on the carpet, and approached the window slowly. The curtains were caught outside, blown out and hooked on the old-fashioned window latches. As I reached out an arm to bring them in, I froze.
There it was again.
The cat wasn't a dream.
There it sat, looking weirder than the night before, staring. Intensely. At me.
I reached out, curiosity taking over my desire to snuggle back into bed, but the cat was too far. The branch was just outside my reach. How did it get there? What was it? In spite of myself, I asked these questions aloud, directly addressing the cat.
Its only reply was a soft mew, then it disappeared. Right in front of my eyes, just crept towards the end of the branch and vanished from sight! I stood there, baffled, staring intently at the spot the ghost-like creature had just been. This is a dream, I told myself again, but the cold breeze on my face and the shivers up my spine were too- too real. This can't be real, it's a disappearing cat! I reprimanded myself. But... was it?
I clambered back into bed, feeling too confused to sleep, but soon dazed off into a blissful snooze.
The next day, I rose early, refreshed by my short but invigorating sleep, and determined to discover what was going on with the spiritesque cat. I kept the cats busy in the kitchen, where there wasn't any wallpaper to scratch or leather furniture to urinate up. I popped over to my parents' house in the afternoon, and was surprised to find myself debating whether to tell them all, or Mum at least, about the cat at night.
One part of me said that Mum would tell me I needed more sleep and call me silly, so there was no point. Another part of me argued that she might be willing to help investigate. After all, Mum would be curious too - it was a weird family trait that she had rubbed off on us all. But I knew deep down the answer eventually: it was a secret I wanted to keep to myself. Just for me to know, me and the cat. It was kinda cute, after all.
I didn't mention anything about it to my parents, and was set to investigate again that night. When, to my child-like excitement, night fell again, I waited for ages, sitting in bed and waiting for the cat.
My eyelids soon became heavy. Staying up all night is hard, an immature voice pouted in my head. I smiled at my childishness, and suppress a yawn. Stay awake, Ginger! the voice now chanted. Stay awake and see the cat!
Somehow, I lasted until about quarter to 11, and realised the cat might not come. My hope dwindled, and I couldn't sit upright anymore, but at the last minute, I was startled by a soft mewl.
I gasped, leaping from my bed as if all of my energy was returned to me in that one gentle noise. I rushed to the window, and sure enough, there was the apparition. Its glassy eyes were like orbs, staring at the stars, rather than at me like the night before. Its blue-black fur was more like mist than body, all glossy and translucent with a fuzzy appearance around the edges. I was watching it, entranced by its mystical looks.
Suddenly, the cat looked dead into my eyes. To my suprise, it hopped onto another branch, slightly nearer to me. I reached out my hand slowly, my fingers inches away from the misty head. The cat mewed softly again, but I was disrupted by a sudden beeping.
I whipped my head around, only to see that it was my alarm clock. Annoyingly, it bleeped loudly every hour, something that had taken a lot of getting used to, but I didn't care. I looked back round at the cat, but it had disappeared. I scowled, frustrated that the clock had probably scared the spectre. I padded back to my bed, slipped under the covers and stared angrily at the red number on the digital clock. I soon fell asleep, but my last thought was: Weird... the cat-thing shows up at exactly 11.59 every night, and disappears a moment later... What is it with ghosts and midnight?
