Tibbles Fluffington was the Black Cat in the Window

Short story trying to center around a little black cat named Tibbles. Then the ghost came and she kept hissing.

There was a black cat, sitting in the window sill. No more than 8 weeks old, Tibbles Fluffington was the new resident cat in my apartment. Well, she was the only cat, but she already seemed to own the place.

I picked her up off the street two weeks ago, she was shivering cold and wet, and I didn’t see where her mother was; so I scoped her up, put her in my jacket, and took her to the vet. From that day on, I knew she was always going to be mine.

But that window sill in particular was her favourite from day two. On her first day here she wouldn’t leave my side and didn’t want to be put down, she was so small and she still felt like an ice cube when we got home. She liked exploring the apartment, venturing into a new room, a new corner of this small world each day. But the lounge room was the first place she felt comfortable, the window she sits at faces down the street, she could see everything.

Sometimes I catch her hissing out the window, she didn’t like the look of the neighbour’s dog, Roger an English bulldog. Roger’s owner, Harald, always took him for a walk, every morning at 9AM on the dot, and he always had to pass our apartment, where Tibbles could see him. There are other times where I caught her hissing, but she always faced the futon on the other side of the room. I always wondered what it could be, but I just leave her alone and let her hate the thing.

One day however, she was hissing at the futon, it was a lot louder than normal, stronger and it echoed around the room. It scared me; I’ve never heard such a sound, especially coming from a small, little cat. I went over to her at the window, picked her up and looked at the futon. There was a man sitting there, his chest dripping in blood and the rest of him in mud and dirt. He looked transparent, like a cloud of smoke, but still fairly solid. I was shocked. He was just staring in front of me, not looking at anything. Tibbles hissed again, it got his attention, half a second from her hissing, he stared at her, then at me, 2 seconds later he screamed and disappeared.

I jumped back and Tibbles leaped out of my arms to the futon. She started to sniff the end that this man was sitting on, a dark muddy patch started to appear. She backed away and hid behind my leg. I was even more concerned now.

I went back to the kitchen and tried to forget what happened. I open a tin of wet food for Tibbles, put it in her little cat bowl, and called her over for her lunch. The rest of the day was fairly normal, she sat in the window, I did school work on my laptop for university, and we both seemed to forget about the man in the lounge room.

It was then bedtime for me, it was just past midnight. Tibbles was sleeping on my lap; I picked her up, waking her slightly, and put her at the top of her cat jungle gym. I change into my PJs then turned around to go turn off the light. The man was there again, he was still bleeding, still muddy and translucent. I managed to get out something, “What? Who?”

He screamed at me in a high pitched wail that woke up Tibbles. She hissed loudly at him. He stopped, stared at her, and then at me, he disappeared. Tibbles then went back to sleep, I was scared and wide eyed. I didn’t want to go and turn off my light; I didn’t want to sleep in the dark. I had class the next day so I had too. I stepped forward to go turn off my light and then a dark, wet patch was on my floor in front of me. It came out of nowhere, and it was where he was standing.

I jumped and went to the bathroom to clean it off, I nearly cried. It seemed like mud, and smelt of wet crushed grass and dirt. I went back to my room; turned off my bedroom light, got into bed and decided I needed a nightlight. I then turned on my bed-side table lamp and fell asleep.

¨ ¨ ¨

There was a black cat, sitting in the window sill, soaking up the autumn sun behind a pain of glass. Tibbles Fluffington was the sweetest of all cats at 10 weeks old. She was playful, happy and loved a good pat now and again. She was also one to use her voice.

We have only seen this ghost a couple times in the apartment, but where ever he was, he left a dirty, mud stain where ever he stood or sat. Once I clean up after him, after 3 days, we would see him again. He would come, she would hiss, he would stare at us, possible scream in pain then disappear. It was starting to scare me less, but it still was a bit of a shock.

Our neighbour next door neighbour would take Roger on walks later and later, which would always catch Tibbles off guard. I swear she would wake up from a nap just to hiss at them. I still don’t understand why. But then again, I still don’t know why there is a ghost screaming at us every few days.

¨ ¨ ¨

There was a black cat, no longer sitting in the window sill. She was lying dead on the far side of the futon, where we first saw the dead man. She was in a pool of her own blood, deep teeth hole, something had bitten and crush poor little Tibbles Fluffington. No older the 3 months old, she was in good health and I loved her with all my heart.

I woke up that morning and found her like this, I shopped in horror and I was speechless. I couldn’t scream, I just stood there staring, starting to shake and cry. I don’t know how this happened.

A cool breeze came through the window, the one she sat at to watch the world go by; the window was broken, smashed, shattered glass everywhere. I haven’t seen Harold the neighbour walking his dog over the past couple of days, it was like they disappeared. I called the police.

They came, I told them what I found and that I saw and heard nothing, they took pictures, jotted down my information and left.

 

Two days later, I get a phone call and I’m asked to go to the police station about the cat and the broken window. I changed into something more reasonable, and I went down to the station. There was still no neighbour and his dog anywhere. They tell me they don’t know what happened, and we never will know. There was no evidence.

Whilst I was there, they asked me about the man next door, Harald. I said I knew nothing, the other week he was walking his dog, then he disappeared. They looked at me weirdly and mentioned he had been dead for about a month.

I was then confused as well. I asked how it happened. They told me a story…

 

They got a phone call one day about two weeks ago during the storms, there were dogs growling and barking late one night, a woman called it in. There were also multiple gun shots heard as well. Police rushed over there and saw many people running from the scene, scattering.

The police man who took the call new the place as an alleged dog fighting ring, he was right. He and his partner ignored all the people running and went straight in. There was a man surrounded by dog, getting attacked in the mud. There was no screaming, just dog growling, chewing and trying to get another bite.

The policemen the shot dead, two dogs and the rest ran away whilst looking back. They had attacked and killed a man, no one knows why. But this man was identified as Harald Washinfur, my next door neighbour for 8 months; I barely knew him and saw him even less. They found a ticket in his hand, it was his bet. He had placed $250 on an English bulldog named Roger. This bulldog was one of the dogs shot dead.

 

They showed me a picture of what he looked like on the night, it was basically the man I have been seeing every now and again. Just less mangled. The dogs had mainly attacked his neck and chest area, which both explains the muddy stains and the blood on his chest. I was shocked and concerned.

We both were confused of why I could see his ghost until a few days ago. I guess some questions will never be answered.

Author's Note

I'm not the best with grammar or spelling, this piece most likely does need editing still.