This is from ItsAmelia's contest, Mystery, but I didn't get to finish. I'll just put it in here because why not. Also why do I suck at coming up with titles?
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Her mother's fatigued eyes fluttered as she lightly stirred in the hospital bed. One hand was positioned on her stomach, and the other on her side. Her pale skin sickened thirteen-year-old Victoria, standing by her side. Her mother barely had any hair on her head. She barely had any strength left. She barely had any life in her. But she would fight, continue to fight, despite everything, Victoria thought. That was who her mother was.
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It was a hush night in Victoria's room — the only noises were the steady breeze drifting through the windows, the faint buzzing of her ceiling fan, and the pages of a book turning every two minutes. But it wasn't just any book. It was an album, a precious album filled with fragments of the past. From the day her grandparents were born, to the last photographs of her holding her mother's hand. She flipped a page, smiling at a particular photo. It took place in an aquarium. Victoria was two years old in her mother's arms, as she was pointing at a baby shark, heading in their direction. She and her mother looked exactly the same then, with the same bangs and the same broad smile.
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A mini growl startled her. Victoria forgot about Tango, her white cat that was rested on her lap. She was stroking her back a little too aggressively. "Sorry, Tango," she said softly. A lump caught in her throat.
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"I won't be gone forever," her mother had said, "I'll come back."
"How? When?" Tears rolled down her cheek as she uttered the words.
"Soon. I'll come back as your favorite animal." She closed her eyes. "What's your favorite animal?"
Victoria thought for a moment. "A cat," she finally whispered. "I love cats."
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Victoria named her cat after some of her mother's favorite things — tulips and mangoes. Tango. She had found Tango hiding in a bush in the backyard as she was reading on a lawn chair. Tango was special; she had two different eye colors (yellow and blue), and her small, clipped ears.
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It was years after her mother died, but she still felt hope, a sign, when she discovered her. Because it was easier to believe than to believe she was gone forever.
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She flipped to the next page.
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The photo on the top showed her grandma in a dress when she was younger. The photo was black and white, but she was stunning, even without color. In the picture, she noticed a cat that was snuggling in a pile of clothes. An exquisite, white cat with clipped ears.
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"Look!" Victoria exclaimed, rubbing the back of Tango's ears. "That cat looks just like you." Tango squinted at the picture, purring.
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She flipped to the next page.
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The next photo was a picture of Diana, her mother, after she was born. wrapped in a white blanket with baby blue polka dots, sleeping cozily on a mattress. She noticed in the background was another white cat, lying on a chair. This photo was in color, so she could see the cat more effectively. White, clipped ears. But the background was too blurred to see the color of its eyes.
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Victoria frowned, but she didn't think much of it. It made sense. Her grandmother likely loved cats, and was attached to the one she had growing up. But it was strange how her mother never mentioned any cats in her childhood; she only mentioned a duck named Max that would occasionally come to their yard. She brushed Tango's back with her fingers until she began to drowse, and swiftly placed the album back on her nightstand.
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A couple days passed, and Tango was always either hiding in her personal room or outside in the yard. She was less affectionate than usual, and hardly ever came to Victoria's room while she was reading.
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"Tango, where are you?" she called. "I'm bringing the vacuum!" She cringed at the thought of Tango's room, probably cramped with dust and fur.
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Opening the door, she saw that the room was surprisingly tidy. "Tango?" Her cat came scrambling out of the closet. "What were you doing in there?"
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When she turned the knob of the closet, Tango uttered a defensive growl.
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She peeked inside.
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Chunks of thick, blonde locks and a pair of broken glasses sat in the corner. She couldn't believe her eyes. Those blonde curls weren't hers; she had black hair. They definitely weren't from Tango. She scooped up a few strands and examined them in her hand. They were real. Real hair from a real person. Victoria's heart pounded. She turned slowly to the cat.
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"Whose is this?" she croaked. "Where'd you get this from?" She growled again in response, crawling closer and closer, flashing her razor-sharp teeth. Victoria stepped back in fear. Her head shot up to the windows. They were open.
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The cat emitted one long hiss and scurried out the window.
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"No! Tango!" she cried out. She scrambled to the windowsill. The cat was patiently waiting on the roof. Was Tango waiting for her to follow?
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Victoria hesitated, gripping onto a stranger's locks in her sweaty palm. She rushed back to the closet and picked up the remaining pieces of the glasses as well. "Don't move!" Victoria yelled, bolting to her nightstand. Frantically, she opened the album and searched for the photos of the cat she found yesterday. She made sure the cat was still in her sight, her eyes darting back and forth from the album to the window. Then she tore out the photos and crumbled them into her pockets.
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She was crazy and she knew it. Without hesitating, she jumped out the window.
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An hour later, Tango led her to the place she had least expected. She expected a junkyard, or most likely, a dead end that would lead to nowhere. But there they both were, standing in front of the garage of someone's house. A specific house that Tango had chosen. She knew where she was going. She knew where she was leading her.
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Victoria knew because it was her grandmother's house.
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Tango sniffed at the lawn, shoving her nose in the blades of grass. Victoria stared at the front door, painted mahogany red. It had been over three months since she stepped foot in that house. Her grandmother, Robin, had dementia and rarely spoke a word, and she despised almost everyone except for Elsie, her personal caregiver. "Who are you?" she breathed, staring at the cat, who said nothing but gazed at the sky.
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Victoria knocked three times. Tango clawed at the door.
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The door creaked open. Elsie's head peeked outside. "Victoria! I didn't expect to see you today."
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She gave a small smile. "I'm just here to see my grandma. How is she doing?"
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"Better. She's finally taking her medications. Come in." Tango invited herself in and slinked between her legs, surprising Elsie. "Huh. That looks just like your grandmother's cat. Very pretty."
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That comment shocked Victoria. "How do you know?"
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"She has pictures of them all over her room," Elsie replied, chuckling. "Make sure she doesn't go in the kitchen. I mean your cat, not your grandma." Elsie shut the door behind them and headed upstairs.
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Her grandma was in the living room, rocking back and forth in a chair.
(Wow this is such a great ending for this story don't you think?340Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡevUqfQsZg9
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Just kidding. I might edit this later!)
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