These are my best friends cats. The first one is Lola, she has extra thumbs cause she’s a barn cat and she only ever wants attention on her terms. The second girl is Tiger Lily who tries to escape outside all the time, she also grew up in a barn. She’s chill af. Last kitty is Fairlight, or Lil’ Blue. All she wants is love and belly rubs. She’s usually pretty shy but she’s warmed up to me.
Creepypasta #1103: I Had A Friend Who Lived In The Air Vents
Length: Super long
When you’re a little
kid, you do some strange stuff to get attention. Especially when you’re an only
child and then poof, you’re not. You’re getting the “little brother or sister”
pep talk from Mom and Dad and everything changes. You’re used to being the
center of their world, being told you’re the most special little girl, but as
Mom’s belly gets bigger and bigger and Dad’s patience with you gets smaller and
smaller you realize it’s not going to go back the way it was. Not ever.
what happened to me when I was seven, anyway. I was the kind
of kid that needs a lot of attention. I hadn’t had to try hard for seven years,
I’d been coasting on my parents’ single-minded doting. But pretty soon I
noticed some small differences; they were less interested in what I’d done in
school that day, more interested in getting ready for my new little brother or
was like an alcoholic without a bottle. You feel fine at first but soon the
tremors set in and you realize you just needit, you know? You need their
eyes on you, loving you, reminding you that you’re the most special little girl
in the whole wide world, maybe the only special little girl.
So in the last month or so before the baby came, I got
“I made a new friend!” I told them one night at dinner.
“At school, sweetheart?” Mom asked.
“No!” I was fidgety, excited, twitching in my seat when they
both looked at me with rapt attention from across the table. Time to launch my
plan into action. “He lives in the air vents! His name is Marty and he’s
“Oh,” said my Dad, and he smiled a little. “That’s fun. Eat
your peas, Rosie.”
And that was it. That was IT! I’d just told them that Magic
Marty lived in our air vents and all I got was ‘that’s fun?’ And what’s worse,
they went back to talking about the BABY — I always heard that word with an
ominous sort of importance — and whether they thought the nursery could be
painted over the weekend or not.
I stewed and pushed peas around my plate. I knew I was going
to think of something better. Something to make them ask me questions about
Marty, about me, like they used to.
Stupid BABY. I didn’t care if it was a brother or a sister.
It was a pain before it even got here.
Over time, I came up with new tidbits about Magic Marty and
how amazing he was. He only ate jellybeans! He could move things with his mind!
He had a cat named Baseball and he was my VERY best friend!
“I actually have had more dogs in my life than cats I would say. When I was… In our house… as a family we had both, we had a dog and two cats. We had a golden retriever called Muffin, named after her mother Crumpet, who was my best friend in the world… And she was around for ten or twelve years, and we had two cats called Orlando and Grace. (…) I love dogs too, I’ve always wanted to have a dog actually as, you know, for myself but… I travel too much, it wouldn’t be right.”
A/N: happy birthday grace @prongsno. ur the only one i would wear a bad hat for.
She brought back a dead thing. She forgot she wasn’t meant
to be able to do that.
“You can’t fucking say anything.” Lily said immediately after,
staring at James, who was looking at her, wide eyed, mouth parted. She felt her
pulse going in her neck, the only sound in the entire street.
“I-“ he said, strangled. Staring. His eyebrows go up, and
she can’t believe she did this. She can’t believe- “The cat” he finished, disbelieving. She doesn’t know what to say to
that. “It was dead” he almost gaged,
“James. You can’t tell anyone.”
“It was dead.” He pointed
at the street where the cat had been minutes before. “I- it was” he gestured to
the front of his car, inches from them, “and then you-“ he waved his hands, “and
then- it was alive again.”
“Yes. I was there. I know what happened.” She couldn’t help
herself. James’ eye twitched, and he abruptly stalked around in a circle before
turning back to her, finger out, accusatory.
“Don’t fucking-“ he grasped for the word “sass me, Lil, You just-“
Lily snorted. “Sass?”
“How long have you been able to do that?” he asked. Her
throat closed up. She hadn’t ever, not once, talked about this aloud. It feels
so wholly unnatural to be standing here in the middle of the street at eleven
at night next to James’ car, over the spot where there used to be a dead cat
two minutes ago.
Since forever. Since
before I knew my own name. Since before I knew yours. That long.
“A while.” She said. He stared at her again, and its only
with the street lamp on that she can see him, cheekbones illuminated by light. Hair
sticking up like an electric shock. He is giving her a look she can’t quite
place, but she isn’t scared, even now, when he could yell and anyone could come
running, because of course its James who would be first to know. It could never
be anyone else.
“I wanted to tell you.” she said, truthfully. “But what if
you’d-“ she stopped herself. She had been about to say but what if you’d never spoken to me again, and the thought is to
be awful to be said out loud.
There is a long silence, and for one awful minute she thinks
he’s going to get back into the car and leave her, never come back, and then she’s
thinking about how much it’s going to be so fucking hard to never speak to him again,
how much it’s going to suck to not be in his front seat again, late night
driving, stealing fries, laughing about his mother and the fact she hadn’t done
her chem homework in months.
“I would never say-“ he started, then stopped, looking at
the streetlamp and then back to her. “you must know. I’d never say anything. I’d
never do that to you.”
She’s flooded with relief so fast it almost knocks her over.
It’s all through her, like she’s been filled with sea water, and all at once
she’s calm. He’d never say anything. He’d never do that to her. How could she
have doubted him.
“I know.” She said because there was nothing else to say. The
world is such a quiet place, serene. In her dreams where this happened it was
always lighter, during the day, she was always bringing back a person, he was
always less shocked. It didn’t matter. None of it did. She brought back a dead
thing and he still loved the same.
“Do you think-” he asked into the silence, “If I hit a cat
and it died but then my best friend bought it back to life a minute later, I still have to report it to my
driving instructor? I’m asking for a friend.”
She laughed. He was so good. He smoked and interrupted her
in English and speed on city roads and called her mother ‘Vi’ but he was good
the whole way through. He was looking at her, half smiling, like she was
something else. A piece of art. A star in a classroom. A thing to hardly be
“Tell the friend he should try avoiding hitting the cats, and then he wouldn’t have this problem.”
“The friend said to tell you that it was dark and he was trying his best.” He opened the driver’s door.
“If the friend stopped speeding-“
“Oh my God! The friend was going fifty!”
“The friend obviously can’t read. The speed limit is forty.”
Later- she knows- they’ll talk about it. Skipping class or
eating food or in the music room at lunch where students aren’t supposed to go,
he’ll ask her and she’ll tell him. the whole pointy, uncomfortable, strange
thing of bringing things back to life when they should not be. But now-
laughing. Now- arguing about the radio station. Now- the dark, the stars, the
road. Now- her heart aching like a broken bone for him without her knowing why