Albert had had a strange feeling on his way back home that night. The feeling that he’d been watched or followed. But there hadn’t been anything around. It might have been his imagination mingling with his paranoia, but he could have sworn he heard something walking behind him the whole way. And though it wasn’t a particularly long walk back, it felt like an eternity of looking over his shoulder. And once he was back inside, he didn’t feel much safer. There was a scratching at the windows of every room his moved to. It kept him awake until late into the night, and at that point he didn’t dare look outside. If it had gone from the outside of the front door to the window that fast, there was no way it was natural.

Whatever was following Albert was—he was sure—supernatural.

Around midnight, something changed. Albert hadn’t slept a wink, though he’d prepared to sleep as he did every other night; after all, why would he bother waiting for it to go away if it wasn’t human? But when his mother opened the front door, and he knew it was her from the familiar sound of her keys clanking on the counter and her shoes clattering on the floor by the door, the scratching stopped.

At first Albert was totally relieved. But then it occurred to him that whatever it was, it might have come in alongside his mother. But there weren’t any other strange sounds. Just the noise of his mother decompressing briefly and then getting ready to sleep until late into the next morning. No more scratching at the windows, no more patter of quiet feet in the apartment, nothing clawing at his door, no ominous breathing in the corner of the room. Just silence within the confines of the apartment walls and the ambient noise of the city outside of them.

Albert didn’t trust that silence for a second.

Even though he hadn’t found a decent hiding place for his arbitration implements, Albert had tucked his backpack between the side of the bed he slept on and the wall. If there was going to be any chance of keeping his belongings discrete, he would have to keep them on his person at all times. And that made it simple enough to retrieve the cell phone and send a text to Amy.

Ghosts are real, right?

What’s wrong? Came her quick reply.

I think I’m being haunted. Something followed me from my landing spot to the apartment and then started scratching at the windows. It felt like it took ages to text with the basic numbered keypad, but Albert wasn’t going to get any sleep until he figured things out anyway.

Okay, what does it look like? It was only text on a screen, but Albert could hear Amy’s sarcastic and mildly annoyed disposition. Almost as if being haunted was no big deal. And it might not have been. For her.

I couldn’t see it. That’s why I’m freaking out.

You couldn’t see it with the glasses on?

Albert smacked himself on the forehead with the butt of his palm. He had, clearly, learned nothing from his experience gathering souls for his initial contract. He’d had the glasses in his backpack the whole way home and it hadn’t occurred to him to put them on to see if a spirit was actually following him. But was it too late now? There was no indication that whatever it was that had followed him home was still around. No audible indication at least.

And if you didn’t see it, how do you know something was following you? Amy sent another text before Albert could finish what he had started typing.

I could hear it. He responded quickly, before digging the glasses case out of the backpack as well.

Albert wasn’t looking at the phone when it hummed quietly again with Amy’s reply. But when he looked again, now with glasses on, he saw her reply very clearly.

Most likely a spirit. Need help?

Albert didn’t want to have to explain to his mother why Amy was there if she came over and was discovered. No. But I’ll let you know.

An initial sweep of the room yielded no results. Everything was exactly as it had appeared without the glasses, minus the slight tint in color. But the color shift was to be expected. But if the room was clear, that meant Albert would have to check the rest of the apartment… or maybe the window.

Looking outside had been something he was dreading since the scratching stopped. It was a common source of horror in scary stories. When the creepy noise stopped and a character went looking for the source, it never ended well. And scratching at the window, another horror trope, it seemed to always get worse if someone actually looked out. But Albert remembered what Amy had said when she’d first let him look through the glasses. A half-dead creature, human or otherwise couldn’t hurt him. They might be annoying, but they shouldn’t be able to hurt him.

It was with that reassurance circulating through his mind that Albert peeked through the blinds covering his bedroom window. The alleyway between his apartment building and the one next door was lit with a green-yellow tint to it, and it was clear enough to see things from the street level up to his own window. Not that he needed the assistance. The thing waiting outside his window was clearly visible. It was a cat.

It looked oddly familiar, though most stray cats tended to do that. And it wasn’t just a normal stray cat, it was radiating a faint yellowish-green aura that seemed to color its otherwise dark fur. Albert remembered seeing a cat the first time he’d put on the glasses. It had been a ways off, and he hadn’t gotten a great look at it. But it was possible this was the same cat. Amy had said that some animals lingered for days before they dissipated. And if it had died close to when Albert had seen it last, it might have been the same cat. But there was no being sure.

The cat noticed the opening in the blinds and leaned down to look Albert in the eye. It was an awkward staring match, with the cat’s unblinking gaze proving to be the victor. It didn’t seem hostile, or intent to continue scratching, it just watched and waited. Albert didn’t see the point in trying to conceal his actions or the harm in lifting the blinds properly, so he did. Quietly, so as not to wake his mother, Albert pulled the string to raise the blinds and get a better look at the half-dead cat sitting on his window sill.

It had some kind of patterned fur, though Albert couldn’t discern the natural colors of it due to the tint of the glasses and the glowing aura that seemed to be filtering through the fur itself. With it no longer leaning down to keep eye contact with Albert, he could see it had a color on as well. The collar itself was a plain black ribbon with a little tag and a bell. Albert hadn’t heard the bell at all while he was being followed, but he suspected there was an explanation for that. The tag was what interested him more.

There wasn’t any owner information of the little metal disc strung on to the ribbon. But there was a name and a little etching that Albert couldn’t make out clearly through the glass and the color tint. But the name was legible. It read, quite simply, kılçık.

Albert went back to his phone, keeping a lookout in his peripheral vision to see if the cat moved, and texted Amy again.

How many languages do you speak?

Oh, is it talking now?

No. It’s a cat. Albert texted back, mildly frustrated.

Odd question, then. But a few. Why?

It has a collar and a name. And I don’t think the name is in English.

Okay, hit me with it. What’s the name?

Kilcik

Is there a little tail bit under the c? Amy’s response came after a long pause in communication. Albert stared at the cat the whole time, just to make sure it didn’t phase through the window or do anything else concerning. But it stayed put.

Yeah, the c has a little thing in the middle on the bottom.

Okay. That’s Turkish. I think. And if I remember right, it means bones. But like, thin fish bones.

Amy text again in quick succession. Actually, that’s kind of cute. They named the cat fish bone. Anything else on the tag?

Albert crept close to the window again and let his face press up close to the glass to get a better look at the other element on the tag. It was hard to make out, because the cat moved close to the glass as he did, but he could make out a round shape with thin lines poking out of it.

There’s some kind of etching, but I cant really make out what it is. Maybe a little ball of yarn? It’s like a circle with spikes.

I’m not great with Turkish, so this might be a bit of a stretch, but could it be pincushion? Kilcik, that kind of bone, it’s the kind of bones you make needles and pins out of.

Amy’s lengthy reply, after the pause it had taken her to write it, left Albert a little stumped. He couldn’t get a better view at the tag no matter how he tried to twist his head around. The cat just moved along and mimicked his movements, keeping the tag frustratingly out of sight. After a while Albert leaned back, as did the cat, and Albert tried to make it out from a distance. It could have been a pincushion, but it didn’t really make much sense.

“Pincushion…” Albert mumbled, barely audible in the confines of his own room, but when he said it the cat perked up.

“Is that your name? Pincushion?” Albert couldn’t believe he was trying to talk to a cat, but Amy had said that sometimes animals grew smarted after they died. And he wasn’t sure how smart cats were to begin with. It wasn’t impossible that it understood him.

The cat didn’t nod. If it had, Albert might have shut the blinds right then and there before texting Amy to come and get rid of the half-dead cat’s spirit. But it did seem to perk up at the word. Its long dark tail twitched in a pleasant excitement and Albert could hear it begin to purr. It was an odd and ethereal sort of purring, not a physical force of vibration in the air like normal noise but some kind of spiritual hum reverberating off the glass as it rubbed its whiskered cheek along it.

I think its name is Pincushion. Albert texted nervously.

How so?

It heard me say it and I think it’s happy.

Oh dear.

Oh dear?

I think it might like you.

And that’s bad?

Cats are unpredictable. And they’re not exactly stupid animals after they die. Is it inside your apartment?

No, it’s outside my window. It’s not coming inside for some reason.

You might be fine, but let me know if it lingers around you.

Okay.

Goodnight, Albert. Get some sleep. Tomorrow isn’t going to be easy for you.

Thanks.

Pincushion continued to watch Albert as he carefully lowered the blinds. He didn’t hear any more purring after that, but he could tell it was still there. It was waiting. And it was probably going to wait all night. Albert had a feeling. Not exactly a bad one. But an ominous feeling. Like there was something Amy wasn’t telling him. And worse, that Pincushion wasn’t just another remnant of roadkill