Amber and Chester have an eventful evening with the ghost. Will the ghost harm Amber, Chester or both of them?
Chester’s One Crazy Kitty
Two weeks have passed since the haunting activity began. It’s now the week before Thanksgiving. Amber is home alone with Chester.
She opened the brushed-metal fridge door looking for something healthy to eat. Scouring over the food in the crisper, she realized healthy isn’t always a fun option. There’s only so many veggies I can eat before it gets old, she thought.
Amber felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. It was Don. He’d been away on a business trip in Denver, his first trip since they moved into the house.
“Hey, how’s it going? You find something besides spinach?” he asked her.
“Right now, I’m at the point where I want to jump in a vat of chocolate,” Amber replied.
The couple had both agreed to take off a few pounds they’d gained over the two years they’d been married. But, long business trips to entertain clients and long commutes to the office had caused some blubber to form over their midsections.
Don promised her a big night out at Spinasse, an upscale Italian restaurant, when he got home this coming weekend. That made Amber a happy lady: Spinasse was her favorite restaurant in Seattle.
As she hung up with Don, Chester strutted around the kitchen corner. He plopped down on Amber’s feet and rolled over showing the white fur on his tummy. His meow seemed to say ‘rub my belly dammit.’
She reached down and gave him a gentle rub when her phone rang again. Her best friend, Erin, wanted to catch up and talk about the house.
“Let me pour a glass of Cab. Hold on a sec,” Amber said. Like any native Washingtonian, you always have a fine bottle of wine ready to go.
She reached up and slid a glass from the suspended rack above the stove and poured for three seconds, plus a little for luck.
“OmigodtellmeallaboutyournewhouseandwhenIcancomeover!” an excited Erin said.
Amber laughed and asked her to slow down. “Maybe we can get together after New Years? We’re going away for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so that’s probably the best time. I think we should have Laurel come, too.”
“Sounds perfect,” Erin said. The ladies set the date for mid-January.
As Amber entered the date as a note in her phone’s calendar, she heard a creak behind her. When she looked to see what it was, she noticed Chester had jumped on the kitchen island, not far from a cutting board, knife and a few vegetables. He looked at Amber with that look again, like the day she brought him to the house.
“Chester, down baby boy,” she cooed. Amber never could scold her tabby.
“What’s going on?” Erin asked.
“Oh, it’s Chester. I don’t think he’s adjusting well to the new house,” Amber said. “Like he freaked out and hid under the bed for few days. He’s never been like that in the 5 years I’ve had him.”
Erin said he probably needs more time and he’s only known the townhouse in Green Lake, a neighborhood on the north end of Seattle.
“You know,” Amber began to say when she heard another creak and Chester began to hiss.
“Big fellah…what’s wrong?” Amber said. Chester reared up on his back legs, squinted his eyes and bared his teeth. His claws extended. Kitty was looking for a fight.
“Hey Erin, let me call you back. Chester is freaking out again.”
“Okay, hon. Don’t forget. I’m dying to know more about the house,” Erin replied.
As Amber put the phone down on the island, Chester lunged at her. She stepped back and her phone fell to the hardwood floor, shattering the screen.
“Chester! What’s wrong?!” she yelled. Her emotions of fear and concern for her cat twisted inside her. She reached out to try to calm him, when she felt a bitter cold slice through her. She exhaled and saw her chilled breath float in the air.
In a flash, Chester jumped on her shoulder. His claws tore into her skin, leaving a set of deep red scratches below her collarbone and along her neck. He locked his back claws into her and raked his front ones into the air. It was like he wanted to cut an invisible boxing opponent.
Amber screamed “Stop! Stop! Stop!” and slumped to the floor. Chester jumped off and turned to her again. He lowered his head and shoulders, flicked his tail, and prepared to jump. The grey tabby took a step closer. As he was about to leap, a knife fell from the island. It hit the floor with a thump and krang, a few inches from Chester’s front leg. The tip of the blade buried into the floor boards.
Chester jumped to the side as it hit, breaking his madness. The startled kitty turned his head to the top of island and let out a deep rawr. He focused his eyes on something next to Amber. He crouched, then, as the kitchen lights flickered, he relaxed.
Amber looked at her cat, the knife and her shattered phone. Her heart raced and she felt clammy: Shock had set in. As she took in short rapid breaths, tears started to form. She touched the scratch marks and looked at the bright red smear on her fingers. She sat motionless on the floor, with her back against the shiny new fridge. The cool firm metal felt comforting. It was something solid to help ground her.
Chester strutted up to her and flopped over for his tummy rub. To him, it was like nothing had happened. He started to run his ear against her leg. She reached over and gave him circular rubs on his pudgy stomach that he loved so much.
“Baby, we’re going to visit the doctor tomorrow,” she said. “If the pills you get don’t calm you down, maybe they’ll calm me down.”
In Part 3, the ghost doesn’t care for Amber’s love of wine.
Ed. Note: To keep the couple’s privacy, we’ve used pseudonyms. This story is inspired by events at a home in Snoqualmie, Washington, so treat it as fiction.