This was in response to a Challenge at The Prose

The basis of the challenge: Never fall asleep with an empty seat facing you. You never know what sits there while you sleep! Write a horror story, flash fiction, a poem, whatever suits your fancy. Let your imagination go wild.

I decided to include in this scribbling two things from real life; a sampling of my real grandmother and Punkins, a very special little cat in my life.

And yes, Punkins (or Punkinz for realz) is in the Grallus stories as well.

–**–**–

[PICTURE ATTACHED]

Lately I’ve been falling asleep on the couch, not really because I want to but because I have to. Our kids dumped one of those volcano science experiments on our bed… 2 gallons of water, vinegar, dish detergent and food coloring… My wife took the kids to her parents.

Anyway remember when you asked me if I believed in the supernatural and I answered with what I thought was so smart-alecky, “oh I dunno, how can we believe in anything {super}natural when we haven’t even figured out the {natural} yet?” Well I have a weird one for you.

So like I said, I’ve been sleeping on the couch a lot lately. Directly across from me is this old recliner, faded with age but still holding onto its regal charm. It was my grandmother’s favorite chair. I remember her sitting there, knitting or reading, always with a warm smile when she caught my eye. The chair is only a few feet away from the couch, so when I lie down, it’s directly in front of my face.

The other night, when I woke up, this little stuffed cat was sitting on that very chair, “looking at me.” It felt like it had claimed a spot that held so many memories of my grandmother. I know it doesn’t sound like anything weird yet, but here’s the rub; I know nobody else was home, and I’m positive it wasn’t there when I went to sleep. Granted, it’s the cutest little thing, but odd, right?

So I thought kinda nothing of it until it happened again the next morning.

There he was, just looking at me with these cute little eyes in his stylish little bow.

Again I tried to think nothing of it…

But last night I had a vivid almost lucid dream about my grandmother; she was so sweet. She is somehow involved in literally every one of my favorite memories from childhood. She taught me, by example mind-you, how to be kind to the meanest soul and strong in the face of ignorance.

She died without warning when I was only 10 in the late ‘70s. It destroyed me for quite awhile.

Anyway right before I woke up I heard her voice softly say; “Punkins” – which is what she so lovingly called me.

So when picked up the little cat today, I noticed the name-tag was labeled “Punkins.”

I haven’t smiled like that in a long while.