My brownie

My story happened when I was 15, and at the time I was into magic and all sorts of fortune-telling, and I want to point out that I was quite good at it. So, my mother and I lived in a two-room apartment, and we'd been living there for a while, and nothing supernatural had ever happened there before.

That day, my sister came to visit. I'd just printed out some photos and put them on the table in the living room, while my sister was sitting in the other room. I went into the kitchen for literally a couple of minutes, and when I came back, the photos were gone. Of course, I went to my sister and said, "Give them back, you little brat!" But she was just surprised and said, "I didn't take anything." I pestered her all day, but got nothing. I searched the entire apartment—they were gone, and that was it!

That night, my sister and I went to bed. I have a big bed, so we slept together. I want to say that at the time I had a cat, and he was sleeping on a chair in the living room, and the door to the room was closed. So, we were sleeping, and in the middle of the night I woke up from some strange noise. There was a shoebox on the table at the other end of the room, and I heard something rustling inside. Already in my sleep-deprived state, it dawned on me that the cat was gone, and I became afraid. I heard this "someone" crawl out of the shoebox and jump onto the table, and I could hear him walking along the table, his claws clicking softly on the table. He jumped onto the floor—to say that I was scared would be an understatement: I was overcome with true terror, the kind of terror where you're lying there, too scared to even move, and you can hear something creeping quietly across the carpet, like a cat, toward my bed... I'm lying there, afraid to even move, and he keeps getting closer. I reached the bed and stopped. I was shaking violently, but I couldn't do anything—and then he jumped right on me! I couldn't take it anymore, jumped on my sister, turned on the light, but no one was there. She couldn't understand anything, still half-asleep, and I sat there shaking. I got up, looked, and saw that the door to the room was closed. I went out and saw that the cat was sleeping peacefully on the chair.

I remembered that animals are very sensitive to these evil spirits, so I decided to bring him into the room. So I picked up the poor, half-asleep creature and had just crossed the threshold of my bedroom when the cat suddenly woke up, his fur literally standing on end, and he started trying to get out of the room and scratch me. I somehow carried the now enraged animal to the bed, and then he went into hysterics. Finally, he broke free and ran away—I spent a long time searching for him all over the apartment. That night, we couldn't sleep again. A few days later, I found my photographs in a very interesting place—in the closet, on the top shelf, under some magazines. They were all wrinkled and stained.

One night, I woke up to something scratching next to my bed, like cats do. With a clear conscience, thinking it was the cat, I rolled over—and realized the cat was sleeping peacefully at my feet...

I didn't sleep in that room for a long time; even during the day, there was an unpleasant atmosphere there. My mother sprinkled it with holy water, but it didn't help. A few years passed, and our grandmother moved in with us. I told her I was afraid to sleep in that room, and she told me everything would be fine now. I don't know what she did there, but that creature hasn't bothered me since then...