Alright, y’all, brace yourselves, ‘cause what I’m about to share is straight-up nightmare fuel and not the cute kind. Like, forget Karen ghosts and glitching video games—this one? This one is gonna make you never want to leave your house again. Trust me.
So, picture this: I’m finally, FINALLY going on a weekend getaway (thanks, Starbucks PTO), leaving my fur-baby Fluffernutter in the care of this pet sitter I found on one of those bougie apps—you know the type. All five-star reviews, total “I walk dogs in my Lululemon leggings” energy. I was like, okay, she’s cute, my cat will probably love her, and her profile said she’s into yoga and candle making or whatever. Seemed like the perfect, safe vibe for my precious little Fluffers.
BOY. WAS. I. WRONG.
The weekend was chill, you know, basic influencer things—posing by the pool, making TikToks about how to travel in style while on a “barista budget” (lol don’t @ me, okay?). But no matter how much fun I was having, part of me was already missing Fluffernutter. I mean, she wasn’t just a cat; she was my little shadow, always following me around, purring in my lap when the day's stress was too much. I still remember the day I adopted her, all big eyes and soft fur, curled up in my arms like she was meant to be there. My fur-baby, my ride-or-die.
But when I got back home, something was off. Like, seriously off.
First of all, Fluffernutter? Normally, she’s all up in my face the second I walk through the door, demanding treats and acting like she runs the place (which she low-key does, but that’s beside the point). But this time? She’s just sitting there on the couch. Staring.
Now, y’all, I love my cat. She’s a queen, obviously. But let me tell you—this was some straight-up horror movie nonsense. Her eyes were like, way too wide, pupils dilated like she just saw a catnip ghost. I tried to pet her, but instead of her usual “mrrp” and head nuzzles, she hissed at me. Like, legit hissed, teeth bared and everything. My heart? SANK.
“Okay, Fluffers, chill,” I mutter, nervously laughing ‘cause my cat’s clearly having a bad hair day or something. I even pulled out her favorite toy—the one with the feathers and the sparkles? She didn’t even blink. Just kept staring.
My skin? FULL goosebumps. And that was just the beginning.
I check my phone, pulling up the pet sitter’s messages. She’d sent a couple updates while I was gone—pics of Fluffers, all cute and cozy. Nothing weird, right? But then I open the last photo. My heart legit stops.
In the picture, Fluffernutter’s in her little cat bed, curled up as usual, but behind her? There’s a shadow. Not like, “oh, the lighting was bad” shadow. I mean, this thing is looming. Tall. Thin. And it’s standing right behind her bed, where no one should’ve been.
“Nah, nope, not today,” I say, trying to shake it off. Like, it’s probably just a trick of the light, right? Riiight. Sure, Bree. Keep lying to yourself.
I hit up the pet sitter, ‘cause maybe she’s still around the neighborhood, and I’m low-key freaking out now. “Hey, Maddie,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Quick question… Did everything go okay while I was gone? Fluffernutter's acting... weird.”
There’s a long pause on the other end—too long. Then, finally, she answers, her voice weirdly calm and distant. “Everything was fine. You should’ve listened.”
My stomach drops. “Listened to what?” I ask, trying to sound chill even though my heart is doing backflips.
Click. She hangs up.
I’m spiraling now, and this whole thing feels off, so I do what I should’ve done before hiring Maddie in the first place: I pull up her profile again, scrolling past all the glowing five-star reviews I skimmed before. “Loves animals,” “Amazing pet sitter,” “Maddie is the best!” Yeah, yeah, I already saw all this. But this time, I scroll all the way down to the bottom… and there it is. Buried beneath all the five stars: a single one-star review I totally ignored. My stomach twists.
The review reads:
"If I could give zero stars, I would. I don’t know what happened, but something felt seriously wrong after I hired Maddie to watch my pets. My dog wouldn’t stop barking at empty spaces, and my house felt… different when I got back. Almost colder. And Maddie? She was weird. When I asked about the strange behavior, she just smiled and said, ‘You should have listened.’"
My heart stops. “You should have listened.” The exact words Maddie said on the phone. My pulse is pounding now. I should’ve paid attention. How did I not see this before? That single warning… I ignored it. I scroll back up, my hands shaking. Too late now.
Okay, now I’m officially in panic mode. Meanwhile, Fluffernutter? She’s still acting like she’s possessed. Her eyes are glued to the corner of the room, where the light doesn’t quite reach, and she’s growling. Like, growling. My cat never growls. What is this, The Conjuring: Cat Edition?
So, I do what any logical, totally-not-panicking person would do: I grab my phone, start livestreaming. “Hey guys, so I’m pretty sure my apartment is haunted now??” I’m laughing it off for the ‘Tok, but inside, I’m 100% screaming. I mean, it’s perfect spooky content, right? Gotta stay on brand.
But then… THEN… while I’m live, the lights flicker. Chat is going wild—“BREE RUNNN,” “It’s the demon cat!! 😂”—and I’m all like “Haha, yeah guys, super creepy right?” trying to keep it chill for the clout. But then my phone buzzes.
New notification: “You missed a call from Pet Sitter Maddie”
Okay, weird, ‘cause I literally just talked to her. But the message? It wasn’t from my phone. It was from the livestream app.
Um, excuse me, what? I never gave her my livestream handle—and how is she even calling me through that…?
My heart starts racing. With shaky hands, I tap on the notification to play the voicemail. Static crackles for a moment, and then I hear it—Maddie’s voice, low and hollow:
"You should have listened.”
What in the actual f—
And then—because this story wasn’t cursed enough already—I hear it. That soft, quiet tap… tap… tap coming from the hallway. At first, I think it’s Fluffernutter, maybe finally moving from her death stare corner, but when I turn around, she’s still frozen. The tapping gets louder. Closer.
“Bruh, not today,” I whisper, inching toward the hallway. I lean out the door, and my heart legit skips a beat. There’s nothing there. Just my empty apartment, dark and quiet, like always.
Until I see the shadow.
It’s the same one from the photo. Tall, thin, stretched out like someone’s bad filter. And it’s standing… RIGHT THERE in the hallway. Like, in the same spot where I hired the pet sitter to hang out with my cat.
I blink, and it’s gone.
But I swear, I’m not imagining this—there’s no way. The shadow… it’s following me. Every time I move, every time I turn, it’s right behind me, flickering in the corner of my vision like it’s glitching out of reality. I’m shaking now, like full-on, my body’s in fight-or-flight mode, but my brain? Total meme spiral. “Am I in a TikTok horror short right now?? What is happening???”
And then I remember the photo. The one with the shadow behind Fluffernutter.
I open my camera roll to double-check. And this time… the shadow? It’s moved.
It’s not behind Fluffernutter anymore.
It’s standing in my room.
I whip around so fast I practically trip over myself, but the room’s empty. Or… at least, it looks empty. My mirror is tilted just enough for me to catch a glimpse of something in the reflection—a tall, dark figure lurking behind me, even though there’s nothing there. My blood turns to ice. “Okay, nah, I’m out,” I whisper, but when I try to leave, I feel it.
Something cold. Heavy. Pressing against my shoulder.
I don’t scream, I don’t cry—I just freeze. My brain is short-circuiting, trying to process this absolute nightmare, when I hear a voice.
“I told you to listen.”
It’s the same voice from the phone call. The pet sitter’s voice. There’s something horribly wrong with it now, like it’s echoing from somewhere far darker.
I whip around, fully expecting some horror movie jump scare, but nope—nothing. Well, nothing except that freaking cursed shadow, flickering like it’s buffering in the worst way possible. And now it’s reaching for me, of course. Its fingers—long, cold, and creepy AF—wrap around my wrist, and it’s like insta-frostbite, ice shooting through my bones. I yank back, practically wheezing, but the shadow? Nah, it’s just chilling there, watching me like I’m the next episode in its creepy Netflix binge.
My brain nopes out, and before I even realize it, I’m full-on sprinting to my room, practically yeeting myself through the doorway and slamming it shut. I’m gasping like I just ran a marathon (note to self: cardio, girl), clutching Fluffernutter like she’s my emotional support plushie.
My phone buzzes. I look down, and a new notification pops up:
"Pet Sitter Maddie is live."
My stomach drops. Maddie? Live? I hadn’t even followed her on social media.
Against my better judgment, I tap the notification.
The screen opens to Maddie’s livestream. But instead of her, it shows my apartment—my hallway, my mirror, every detail exactly the same. No Bree. No Fluffernutter. Just an empty, silent version of my apartment.
The camera moves, slowly, like something—or someone—is holding it. It pans across the room and settles on my bedroom door.
My bedroom door. The place I’m hiding in right now.
My heart races as the camera zooms in, closer and closer, and suddenly I hear it—the soft scratching noise. Not from the stream. From right outside my bedroom.
My breath catches. My pulse is pounding in my ears. I inch backward, clutching Fluffernutter close, trying not to make a sound. But the door creaks open anyway, just an inch.
Then, silence.
I hold my breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen. But nothing does.
I exhale, slowly. And Fluffernutter? She’s back to normal. Sitting there, all chill like nothing’s happening, like she didn’t just hiss at me or act like a demon cat. Cool, cool, very cool.
Finally, I reach for my phone, hands shaking, and glance at the screen.
The livestream is over.
No shadow. No Maddie.
Just me, Fluffernutter, and my empty, quiet apartment.
I try to relax, but then— my phone buzzes one last time. A notification pops up:
"You should have listened.”
I feel it before I see it—a sudden cold breath down my neck. My body freezes, but I can’t stop myself from glancing at the mirror. The reflection stares back, but this time… I’m not alone.
A dark figure stands behind me, grinning, eyes hollow and endless. Its whisper comes from everywhere and nowhere at once:
“She didn’t listen either.”
I get it now.
She was me.
Once.
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