"Oh, poor thing." Underneath the debris of another of the many decaying buildings was an old, toddler-sized car. A common but unfortunate sight, toys abandoned to decay over the passage of time. The blacks of the painted eyes still remain despite the damage. Sun-bleached reds and whites coated the punched and bent-in exterior. Pressing her palm on it heartbeats of memories slowly came back to her.

She may not fit now but she reminisced on the times she did. Back when she was shorter than she already was she would deliver imaginary pizzas to her parents and plushies. Crashing into the walls of their townhouse and trying to do wheelies till she flipped on her back. Dad would always pick her up, fly her around and pretend she was a ghost. Now that she remembered she realized how morbid that was.

After she grew too big they gave it to a family friend's kid, who hopefully enjoyed it as much as she did. It was begging to be brought home. Without a second thought, she began to pick up pieces of fallen brick and wood till she could drag out the little thing. At first, she attempted to wheel it away but the tires appeared to be stuck. She sighed, having to use her underwhelming upper body muscle. Birch carried the yellowing, squeaky, dust-smelling thing all the way from Old Fate back to Fatemore.

Once home the first thing she did was shower it till not even the slightest bit of mouse poop remained. Then with a hammer pushed out all the dents till they were only noticeable at a closer glance. While she struggled to fit the car through her bedroom door her bed made a familiar squeaking noise.

"And you judge me for eating trash." Shaliver mocked as he watched her pull at the car.

"Yeah but eating trash is far different than rebuilding it." She made another pull at it, stuck between the white frame of her door. "Found it in Old Fate, decided it would make a fun DIY project. And when I'm done, I'll send it out to a deserving family."

"Like a Dumpster Diving Santa Claus."

Birch glared at him, "We don't talk about Santa in this house." She did a big final pull before falling back into her room, sliding all the way to the bed. "And don't forget you did that too, so you're only insulting yourself."

"Either way shouldn't you be out there figuring out if Bigfoot is real or something." Shaliver stepped down from the bed and used his infini-tail to lift up the plastic car. "Or maybe you're too busy looking for that snake with buff arms."

"I told you that was a hoax and that snake was offended that they thought he skipped leg day," Her cheeks puffed. Birch didn't want to disturb that snake just to prove a point to her disbelieving roommate. She, too exhausted from both his teasing and pulling the car through the door, collapsed on the bed for a momentary break. Shaliver jumps up to the car and then again, landing square on her back. To his disappointment, she didn't flinch at the sudden weight. Instead of leaving he circles around her back before laying down on it for a quick nap.

Rather than fight it she chose to remain, earning it after trekking under a third of the city with the plastic thing. Her sleep was dreamless, aside from the bits where she swore hearing high-pitched laughter. But from the depth of the dreamless realm, she could hear the locks of the front door click. Instead of being the kind hearted girl she is, and not waking the still-sleeping cat, she did a different approach. Arching her back as if doing a yoga stretch, till her back felt like a croissant, then sprung arches forward. Shaliver's body hits the floor as Birch runs out of the room to meet them downstairs.

She hugged her Dad just as he closed the door behind him, "How was the reunion?"

He was ear to ear smiles, "The band was just as jovial as I remember. They also loved your baby photos, even if you were drooling on my guitars." Her dad laughed as he continued on about his get-together with his old Punk band. Birch stuck her tongue out as Shaliver who was glowering just around the corner.

Birch and her old man began grabbing things from the fridge for supper. Of course she washed her hands before, even if she had previously. Shaliver joins them and uses the hand-like end of his tail to start cleaning the table. By the time mother returned dinner was set and ready to eat. Mom walks over to her smirking husband and softly kisses him on the cheek. Birch cringes at the sight but is also greeted with a kiss. Shaliver pushes out a chair for her, earning him a scratch under the chin. He fails to hide his purring.

And he says he isn't a cat.

Nearly a whole year since he moved in. Her first meeting with him was still fresh in her mind, scrounging through a fallen trash bin. Headfirst in a black garbage bag, only peeking out to growl at the amazed Birch. A plastic tray of water later she walked away to leave him to his "meal". From the second she saw the two little horns on each side of his head, glowing neon pink at the tip, she knew it wasn't just a cat. Her Oogle searching made nothing of it. She danced around the room, having found what was possibly a new species of supernatural. Just a few encounters and he just started to hang around her whenever she checked out Old Fate.

Then he talked. From then on he would follow her closer and closer to home till before she knew it he was a part of the family. Or roommate depending on how snotty he is some days. During those times she wishes he talked less. Whenever that happens she can always mention his trash-eating habit or how his name was Sir Shiver. If she really felt like annoying him she would say,

"Hurry up Sir Stupid." The scowl he made whenever she said it was worth it every time. After brushing her teeth she would shimmy under her glow-in-the-dark bed sheets to take a well-earned sleep. Shaliver settled on the other end, choosing to smack at her feet under the blanket. But he would settle eventually and be out within minutes.

Her eyes grew heavy, and from her place in the bed she suddenly noticed.

Was that car always facing the bed?

Most of the next day was spent tinkering with the little car, her dad offering his handyman skills. When Mom would get back she would mention how she would imitate her Dad's road raging in the little car. Shaliver asked for a reenactment which resulted in an embarrassed Father finding out his daughter wasn't actually asleep when most of them occurred. And the Mom joined Shaliver in hysterical laughter over Birch sitting in the tiny car, honking on its deflated horn.

By sundown, the car was transformed, its originally red paint was now a classy neon pink. The drawn-on face of the car was brought back to life and the wheels now actually function. Shaliver took it for a test drive with Birch who pushed him around the townhouse. A few wheelies and some wall dents later they celebrated with instant dough pizza. And Shaliver some liver soup, because of course he likes liver out of every body part.

Once the fun was over Birch stayed up till the early hours working on her latest installment of Lovecraftian fanfiction. Tapping away at the magnum opus she found herself tempted to peek at the little car safely sitting in the corner. It was when the ominous tone seeped into her writing that she snuck over to the little car and quietly turned it to be facing the corner. Sighing she returns to her work, only stopping when her eyes begin to droop.

Shuffling into bed, ensuring she didn't disturb Shaliver's precious slumber, she thinks of all the good memories whoever will be receiving the car will get. Again, she got that ominous feeling from before. And as she inched into sleep she could hear at the edge of consciousness a squeaking noise. And kiddish laughter.

In her foggy sleep, the wind rushed past as she drifted around street corners. Stacks of pizza boxes remained balanced on the top of the little car. Somehow staying even when performing ramp jumps and big flips. Pizza sauce rained down from above and splashed when driving over puddles. Tasting it on her lips she speeds through a puddle till a humanoid form starts crossing the road. She's too short!

I can't reach the pedals! When she looks up the form crashes into her.

Inhaling, her foot slams on the imaginary breaks. After realizing the room wasn't covered in pizza sauce a yelp rings out. Birch jumped out of her sheets to check the casualties. He was laid out on the floor with his eyes fluttering.

"Oh God, I'm sorry Sh-" He swipes her with his sharp claws. "AHHHHHHH-!"

"That's what you get!" Birch rolled around on the floor in agony as he rubbed the new sore spot near his stomach. She ran to the bathroom, cleaning the luckily small marks on her freckled face. What a way to wake up.

Before she could scold the horned jerk she found something wrong. Or a lack of something. At first, Shaliver wondered why the girl was staring at something behind him. Wasn't until he remembered the third occupier that he was aware.

It was gone.

He assumed she would ask him where he put it but instead her pale face frantically searched around the house. How it fit through the door frame without butter he couldn't concur. What he could understand was this made Birch immensely disturbed. From the way she tore open cabinets and to her checking locks she was desperate to find it. In the end, she huffed on the floor with defeated whimpers.

"They stole it." He used the handlike end of his tail to pat the sorrowful girl's back.

"At least they didn't appear to steal anything else. Somehow the only thing they stole was repainted trash." His crack at humour was not applauded. Birch gave him a firm smack of the head before sinking into her hands. He wondered how something so childish could mean so much to her.

"It's only a toy Birch, maybe this thief stole it for their family." Even if that didn't explain why they didn't steal the many vintage figurines that sat on the shelves on her wall this seemed to comfort her. A toothless smile finally resurfaces, nodding her head with the naive sentiment. Pulling herself up she goes through the now rummaged-through closet and takes out her usual outing attire. Her classic Horror Movie shirt, A grey pair of cuffed mom's jeans, and neon green strap backpack.

Before they reach the front door she tied the neon pink scarf over his head, as to hide the small yet glowing horns. With that they were off, strutting the familiar streets of Fatemore.

The city itself is actually just Fatemore, but to the citizens it's divided into three parts. Old Fate, New Fate, and in the Middle is just Fatemore; the division between the three being time. As the names suggest they are given based on the era in which they arose. What once was a small community grew into a populated town, but once a city the roots of its origin were left to rot in the way of progress. Now it still exists, but a hollowed-out shell of its humble beginnings.

Shaliver remained close to her side, his head scanning around like a bobblehead. Stifling her chuckling she keeps herself vigilant for the iconic pink paint. Aside from the one rich lady's pink sport's car, nothing could fit the description. In the hot summer air, she decided to stop somewhere after her sweat was sweating. Around the corner was just the place.

Sizzling hot pizza, arcade guns blasting hoards of who knows and scratchy space carpet were the telltale signs you arrived at Fated-Arcade and Cafe.

Tessa was in her usual spot behind the counter, handing out drinks to kids frequenting the dance games. Birch takes up her stool, Shaliver joining on the one next to her. It took a second for her to notice them.

"Hello again! And hello to you," She scratched underneath his little chin which he leaned right into.

"Hey Tess, you already know what we're ordering."

"Always the same with the two of you."

"Why change it if it works." Tesse sighed before writing the order down on the small notepad, handing it over to the kitchen.

"Anyway," she leans over the counter, "have any plans today? Maybe finding another ghost or meeting another urban legend. Like that worm with stellar abbs."

"Snake with buff arms and he was rather peeved; others assumed he skipped leg day." Tessa chortled, carefully wiping the tears to avoid messing up her mascara. "It was a hoax... the snake just had buff legs." She had to stop herself from having another fit of laughter, settling down only after she saw the disappointed look on Birch's face.

"We're getting off-topic. What's the occasion today?" She turned over to the slushie machine and began to fill up the cup with the always popular lemon-lime slush.

"Looking for a custom toddler car that someone stole. And if nothing comes up just a nice walk around the neighbourhood." Birch leans back on her stool but nearly falls backwards. Getting her a shushed giggle from the ever-cheeky Shaliver.

The three talked through the previous day's events, over food once it was ready. Birch nibbled away at her cheese pizza and slush, discussing how nothing else appeared to be stolen. Shaliver had his mystery meat soup, the head cloth hiding his unhinging jaw grabbing the different bits of meat bites. Strangely he was able to identify every type of meat the soup had, mentioning his favourite among them being the liver.

When the pizza was finished and the soup consumed Tessa now had more questions. However, she knew better when Birch clearly was feeling down about the lost toy. "Hey, at least if it does show up it will be hard not to notice. If it is still in town word is bound to spread."

"Really?"

"When you work here gossip is just routine." She pats Birch's head, ruffling it with a smile. As new patrons take their seats she walks over to the sink before she goes over to serve them. Birch decides it's about the right time to leave, Shaliver jumps off to follow her behind. She slurped on the slush, her mind wandering back to other strange details.

No signs of a break-in, no doors or windows left open, not any new scratches on the side of her bedroom door frame. And now that she was checking Cragigi no one had put it up for auction. Stealing a single toy car, and leaving nothing behind seems so odd. And as far as she was aware the toy wasn't a collectible. So why just that?

There were more "bizarre" theories, but she instead let them pass her by. When her parents heard the news they gave the normal sympathies when one's hard work is stolen. Her father told stories of how his first car was stolen and crashed into the ravine. This was more counselling for him than herself. So mother stepped in and briefed her on how to move on. Having a mock funeral was a strange but relieving way of letting go of it. Shaliver was dressed up in a dark-brimmed hat with the logo of her Father's band. Her parents dressed up in dark but casual clothes, and Birch herself wore her cloak from Halloween to it.

(Continued in the next part...)