Rover
I awoke late that night. I was usually a pretty heavy sleeper so my eyelids felt heavy and my vision was blurred at the edges. I clenched my paws into fists and rubbed at my eyes. A sudden crash resounded from the kitchen, most likely the reason as to why I woke up so late. I grabbed a baseball bat from the corner that my dad had bought me when I was five or so, hoping I could make friends through a sport. (Not that that worked out. They wanted me to come to their birthdays because my parents were stinking rich and would buy nice presents.) I quickly made my way down the stairs, treading lightly and avoiding the spots where the floorboards creaked noisily. I finally made my way into the kitchen, exhaling slowly and closing my eyes, I put a determined look on my face before stepping in, holding the bat out in front of me threateningly.
A figure stood at the refrigerator, a small feline silhouette wearing a simple dress. The dress seemed to be torn to shreds but I couldn't tell, the light from the fridge was causing the feline to be no more than a shadow. Unless… It was a shadow monster!
No, that was silly. I needed to start thinking like the ten year old I was, not the eight year old I used to be. Slowly stepping forward, I tapped the figure on the shoulder.
The figure whirled around to face me, causing the fridge door to slam shut. I dashed to the entrance of the kitchen and flipped the light switch, illuminating the room in a soft glow. No feline or creature was in sight so I sighed and went back upstairs so I could sleep.
That morning at breakfast, I told my parents. The kindest of our maids, Rosalina, was cooking apple streusel pancakes with the apples that had been picked that morning from my father's orchard.
"Dad, do we have guests?" I asked as I poked at a bit of pancake on my plate.
My father, a stern cat with navy blue fur and intense yellow eyes, looked up from his newspaper at me, "Of course not, Rover. You know that we don't usually have guests and that we would have told you if we did."
"Why do you ask?" My mother asked me. She was a kind cat with soft, light blue fur and kind amber eyes that always shone with innocence. If she were a stranger inviting me into her home, I would probably meet her gaze and gladly follow her in.
"Well, I got up late last night and there was someone going through the fridge…" I murmured quietly.
"Someone going through the fridge? Preposterous, Rover! Your imagination is acting up again. What did I tell you about-" My father said, his face reddening as small clouds of smoke pillowed above him.
"Henry." My mother said softly, but firmly, "He's just a kitten, you know how they are. You were a kitten once, too, you know."
"I know that I was a kitten once, you don't have to remind me of such horrendous times." My father said, closing his eyes to hide his frustration.
At that point, my parents got into a conversation about how my father was once a kitten and that he should treat me better so I ducked away and went outside.