I am back! Back in the mood to write fictions! Recently, I've been reading up Stephen King's novels: I regretted that I didn't read them sooner. I got the idea for this story when I was in the progress of reading Pet Sematary. At that time, I was still watching Littlest Pet Shop on a weekly basis since new episodes were airing back then (still waiting for season 2). Keep in mind, this is an adaptation.

LITTLEST PET SEMATARY

Chapter 1

The alarm clock in Roger Baxter's room beeped continuously, flashing red numbers. A hand crept out of the blanket, reaching for a button on top of the clock, and pressed it. The beeping stopped. The numbers which have stopped flashing, which read 7.00 AM in red. Roger got up and sat on the bed, giving himself a good stretch – soothing crackles came from his back. Slowly, he shifted to his right, stood up and went towards the window. Removing the curtains apart, Roger watched as morning washed over. Below, he could see vehicles moving about on the road that cut through this part of town.

Covering his yawning mouth with the back of his hand, Roger turned around and groggily moved towards the bathroom.

After his shower, he leisurely sat on the dining table, enjoying a cup of coffee with today's newspaper. He was already in his work uniform: a blue pilot's outfit. His hat did not sit too close to his plate – which was stained with yellow egg yolks and bacon grease. Breakfast wasn't usually this quiet for him, but it had been that way ever since his daughter went to that fashion camp earlier in this summer. Gone was the cheery atmosphere, replaced by that cold loneliness you get in an empty house. There was no one to talk to; no daughter for him to send to school; no daughter for him to kiss goodbye. Said daughter wouldn't be back till winter, and it was only nearing the end of summer – still a long time.

Soon afterwards, he put away the newspaper, washed the dishes, grabbed his hat by the door and went off to work. In his car, Roger turned on the engine and was about to drive away when his eyes happened upon the Littlest Pet Shop. He saw the all too familiar shop owner and neighbor, Anna Twombly (most people called her Mrs. Twombly) turning the CLOSE sign to OPEN. She saw him sitting in his car and waved with a smile. And he waved back, returning a smile of his own.

It's been around two months since Roger and his daughter moved to Downtown City. He remembered how Blythe was actually against it – even though she said she liked the idea at the time. He knows her too well. He had a feeling that Blythe wouldn't like it – what kid would? Moving away from the home that you've lived most of your life in, leaving your friends and everything you love behind. But he also had the feeling that Blythe would settle in nicely and make some new friends. And Roger was now glad that he was right. Giving the shop one last look, he put the pedal to the medal.

The traffic can be a hassle around these parts. But he wasn't worried about it too much. There were only a few cars around; traffic wouldn't pile up 'till at least this afternoon.

…

While Roger drove on towards the airport through the traffic-free highway, Mrs. Twombly was busy stacking cans of pet food in the shop. All of them had piled up nicely in a pyramid shape, with only one more can to go. She stood on a wooden stool, slowly (and carefully) gave herself a boost with one foot, and put the last can on top of the pile. The pile gave a gentle shake before the cans settled quietly. Twombly breathed a sigh of relief.

The pet shop had a soapy fragrance. The display windows at the front were cleansed with soap – enough to see your own reflection – even though they rarely have anything put up there. The inventories of pet care materials were arranged neatly – pet food, squeaky toys, brushes and among others were ready to be picked and bought. The warm, inviting atmosphere surely attracted pet lovers from everywhere (at least in the district).

As Twombly stepped off from the wooden stool, the bell on the door chimed. She looked in that direction and smiled. At the door were John and Clara, two of her regular customers. And Zoe Trent was with them. Zoe was their pet dog – a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel breed.

"Good morning Twombly," John greeted. "How are you this fine morning?"

"I'm good, like usual." Replied Twombly simply.

"Have fun, darling," Clara cooed as she put Zoe down.

The dog barked happily, wagging her tail and walking off towards the daycare section, where the other pets were waiting.

"Good morning, everyone." Zoe greeted.

"Morning, Zoe," All of the pets replied in unison. These other pets were her friends.

Most of her friends were here; Minka Mark with her canvas, her paws wet with paint; Vinnie Terrio dancing in front of the TV, following the dance steps on-screen; Sunil and Penny eating, though Penny was doing more of that; and Russell organizing the stuff around. But Pepper Clark, the skunk she considered her closest friend was not here.

"Where is Pepper?" Zoe sked.

"Hmm, that's weird," Russell said. "Usually, she'd be here by –

Before he could finish that sentence, the subject of their conversation came in through the pet door and greeted them with a "Good morning, guys!"

The pets greeted her in return, then resumed with whatever they were doing. Pepper began her comedic routine of writing down funny jokes while Zoe went on and played with her squeaky hamburger. They played the whole day, just like they always did. Same old pets; same old pet shop. Despite this being what they had always done, ever since they could remember, somehow they were…bored. Before, they couldn't have cared less about what they did. They were just pets after all. But ever since Blythe Baxter entered their lives, things became more exciting. Weird sheningans, having adventures outside the pet shop. And those ended as quickly as they came when Blythe left for fashion school earlier this summer.

And winter seemed like it would take forever to come. They missed her a lot.

The day came and went, and soon darkness fell. The pets' owners came and picked up their pets by the end of the day, just before twilight stole the sky. By 9 o'clock, Twombly closed the shop. And at that time, Roger Baxter was back at home.

…

Things were pretty much the same for Roger the next morning. However, he didn't go to work – someone else decided to cover his shift today. So now, he just sat at the dining table, doing the crosswords on the newspaper. There were many words scribed on the sides; most of them were crossed out. Only a few of the boxes had been filled and they were the easier words. He tapped the back of his pencil on his forehead, eyes wandering around as he thinks of an answer for his current question.

What's a ten letter word for the most talked-about internet urban legend?

Roger does get on the internet from time to time. Despite his age, he really did take some time to learn how to use modern gadgets.

"A-ha!" He said, "Slenderman!"

While he was excited for getting the answer correct, he couldn't help but felt that loneliness once more when there was no other voice to join in. He hadn't felt this lonely since…

Roger put down the newspaper, then the pencil. He let out a sigh. Pushing the chair back in, he left the kitchen for his room. As he sat on the bed, he took one of the framed pictures on the cabinet – a picture of a woman. She had long flowy brown hair that passed her neck; blue eyes that shone like sapphires; and a smile that made his heart flutter at the moment.

He smiled as he looked at the picture, "Martha," he said.

In his mind, a particular memory popped up. A memory that he cherished so very much, and a memory that pained him at the present. He remembered when he fell head over hills for her. And as time passed, he proposed to her, and she gladly accepted. So they got married and moved to a town – the old town he and Blythe used to live in before moving to Downtown City. He remembered the time he spent with her, all the good and bad moments in their married life. Later on, Martha was pregnant; all goes during the nine months of her pregnancy. All was well indeed, until….

When she was about to give birth, the doctor told Roger that they weren't sure whether Martha would make it. As the operation was in progress, Roger could only pray and wait. He sat outside of the ward for what felt like over three hours. But his waiting came to an end when he heard the voice of a crying baby.

The doctor called out to him, saying he could come in to check the baby and his wife. When he heard his wife was alright, he would've jumped like a little school boy right there and then, but instead he rushed inside the ward room.

The baby was a girl, a healthy baby girl – with a larger than average size head! She was beautiful, both to him and his wife. They chose 'Blythe' as her name since she was like a shining light in their lives. And Roger was glad his wife was still alive!

Fate, however, had different plans. A few days after she gave birth, Roger noticed something about Martha: she was getting weaker. At first, he thought it must have been the exhaustion of conceiving Blythe and giving birth. Then Martha felt sick. A very bad fever.

He tried his best to take care of her – feeding her, giving her medication and calling a doctor for a check-up – and at the same time taking care of Blythe. But like some people told him, it was her time. He remembered how she looked at him, with those sapphire eyes of hers. And he remembered what she said: "Take care of Blythe…". Those were her last words.

The funeral was held the next day. Family, relatives and friends from both sides attended it. Roger was at the furthest front, standing across from his wife's coffin. Blythe was in the arm of Martha's mother, whom stood behind him on the right, together with Martha's father. When the funeral was over, everyone went home, and so did Blythe and her. Afterwards, both Martha's parents and his own offered to take Blythe in, but Roger refused, saying that he could take care of her all by himself.

And he did take care of her. He managed to see his child grow before his eyes to where she was now, a young teenager.

"You should look at her now, Martha," He looked outside the window. "All grown up."

Moments later, he put away the picture. He stretched his hands and back as he got up.

"Woah…how long did I spend sitting there?"

His back let out a crackling sound.

"Well, it looks like a nice day to spend outdoors. Time for a walk!" For the second time that day, he spoke to no one in particular.

…

When he got outside, he thought of going to the park. The nice weather tempted him to do that. Just as he was passing the pet shop, he heard a jingle. He watched as a couple with their child exited the shop.

He looked at the awning that reads, "Littlest Pet Shop." Blythe came here often ever since she took a part-time job as a caretaker; and he himself had gone to the shop when he was free. Then his mind wandered to Mrs. Twombly, and he wondered how she was doing without Blythe to help around. A crash suddenly rang out from inside the shop. Hearing that noise, he did what his mind suggested. Roger went over to the door and opened it.