The Cat Named Grim Reaper I sat, looking at all of the pretty little kittens. A orangey-red one yawned and stretched. "Six week-old kittens should be more lively. " I thought to myself. Then the brown and gold one came to my hand, which was dangling over the box's edge. She swatted at my hand. "No, much too boring. More violence!" I thought again. Then came a tiny black and white kitten, the runt of the litter. He smelled my hand and began to lick it. "No, no, no! I need something-" At that moment, the tiny feline dug his teeth into my hand, causing blood to rush out. "Perfect!" I shouted, scaring all except the kitten who had bitten me. "You, I chose you!" "Oh you like the feisty one, eh?" asked the man who was giving the kittens away. "Sí, señor!" I grasp the kitten by his scruff. "Don't hold 'im like dat!" The man jumped from his seat. "Calm yourself, mortal!" I held the other hand, the one that did not hold a kitten, up to him. "This does not hurt him, as I assume this is a he-cat." The man gave me an odd look when I said "mortal", but responded, "Nah, it's a girl." "Then I cannot name HER Grim Reaper, as that is not a very ladylike name." The man only stared as I went on my rant. "The cat would hate me forever and would end up killing me. Ah that's it! I will name it Grip Reaper! Just for the fact of fearing my own cat!" and with that, I walked over to my car and placed Grims (as I will call her out of not wanting to say Grim Reaper over and over) in the passenger seat. "There we go; you and I will have a very happy rivalry!" I exclaimed, putting the key in the switch. "Yes, yes. You are the perfect pet for me!" At my immaculate apartment, I set Grims down on the white carpet. "Here will be our shared home, Grims." I pet the cat's head. "Wait, is it disrespectful to call you Grims?" The feline looked up at me with her evil, ethereal, yellow eyes. "It seems that you do not mind my behavior, therefore I will continue to call you Grims." The day went fine; I taught Grims to ring a little bell whenever she wanted outside. A smart cat, I would expect no less from a creature that is named after a legendary and feared entity. "Grims!" I called the next morning as my feet hit the floor. I yawned and stretched. "Grims!" I looked over on my bed. There lay Grims, sleeping peacefully. "Grims!" I scolded. "Rivals do not sleep together!" She only opened one eye and yawned. "You- you win! The bed is yours!" I quickly left her bed, for fear that she might strike me down then and there. As I fled the room, Grims chased me and sunk her teeth into my ankle. "You must play fair, Grims. I am but a mortal. Wait until I am ready!" I tried to explain to her, but, in her wisdom, she ignored me, showing off her power to scare me. As I prepared myself for work (I am a librarian), Grims came and sat on my shirt as I had just finished ironing it. "What? Does it not suit me?" Grims meowed pitifully. "Then help me find one that does." I folded my arms at the audacity of her response. I brought an array of clothing articles, but Grims refused to communicate. She just slept on the one shirt. "I know mortals are boring; I need to get dressed though. I must go work for more mortals." She ignored me and slept on. Two moths later, I was sitting on my porch, having a cup of coffee at three in the morning. The Grim Reaper was at it again, stalking her prey. Her glowing yellow eyes stared at the tiny mouse that sat, eating some grass seeds in the snow. A scream was heard, and cold chills ran up and down me. "Yes, my dear. Kill it! Murder it with your power!" I jumped from my seat to see the fight, that lasted two seconds. Blood stained the snow and Grims's white socks. In her mouth, she held half of the shredded mouse. Calmly, she laid it at my feet and lay down to lick her paws. "For- for me?" I stuttered, looking at the mouse. "Maybe she sees me as an equal." I thought to myself. "Grims, are we friends or rivals?" She meowed and gave me a slow blink. We were equals; friends for #life; two halves of a whole. My cat and I.

Longing to be Human Chapter I As I walked on those familiar streets of New York City, I recalled my childhood that was reared on these same streets. Taking in a breath of the cool night air, I could remember everything perfectly. I glanced side to side, looking at the multitudes that passed me by. Yeah, this was it- I was home again. After having enough of the crowded street, I turned onto a small, dimly-lit side street. There I walked through a puddle of rain-water before something slammed me against the wall of the building. "Who are you?" I groaned, trying to figure out what had just happened. "You scum! You don't deserve to live!" the man snapped, waving a dagger in my face. "But I am tryin' to do some good 'round here!" I replied so calmly and casually that one might think that I was at home, sitting on my couch. At that moment, he trust the knife in my side; I felt no pain, but only as though it were burning. When I looked down, I saw his knife stuck in my left side, right below the ribs. Blood trickled down the hilt of his blade and onto his hand, which was concealed behind a glove. "Why- " I tried to ask, but ran out of breath. "You shouldn't be allowed to live, you're not even human!" - those words that came from his mouth, rang through my head as I gasp for air. "You can just sit there and drown in a pool of you're own blood, for all I care!" he said, as he withdrew the blade and I collapsed. "Why did you wanna hurt me?" I asked, as I lay, coughing and sputtering in a pool of red. He didn't respond, but only walked away. But you're probably asking, "How did you get here?" and "Who is that guy?" Sit down and take a seat, this may take a while to explain.