Ghost Stories
An instant later, my mind registers this certainty: She is not of this world. My throat constricts, strangling my scream. The choking sound I manage is no more than a whimper. I yank my sleeping bag over my head and hold it tight. Maybe I pant a little in the utter black of my cocoon. What is she doing? The sweat oozing from every pore on my rigid body itches. Has she gone? I strain to hear something, anything, over the roar of my blood. I wait for a very long time.
Kittens have tiny claws, but they're really, really sharp. Seymour was making YEOWCH faces even though he was trying not to flail around and hurt either of them. I lifted Alaska from his back and set her on the floor. T-Rex came over to check out what was happening. That's when they noticed the spare room.
It was weird how it happened. They just turned around and kind of froze in one spot. They sat down. They stared into the spare room.
"Hey," said Seymour. "Neat!"
"Neat what?" I asked.
"They're watching the ghost."
