It's a fanart of Jontaro Joestar from Jojo's Bizarre adventures. He's got a star tatoo on his back so and the word "Star" in his name, so I guess it works? :D
Gordon disliked school, but school also disliked him. It would actually be more accurate to say that people going and working at the school were not found of the nine year old boy, especially Nathan, whose main hobby was to bully all the other pupils. Every day, Nathan would chase Gordon all the way home, kicking his backpack, slapping his head and insulting him of âlittle fatty boyâ. All the other parents and teachers were turning a blind eye on this because, truth be told, Gordon was such a boring small boy that he became invisible to almost everyone. Once back home, he would do his best to be as quiet as possible in order to not disturb his mum, a piano teacher working from home. Sometimes, Gordon could see the disappointed look on his motherâs face when she would look at the fat little boy and then at one of her bright and educated pupils, trying not to sigh. Gordon tried to please his mum and would let her teach him how to play the piano, but no matter how hard he tried and how long he practiced, his chubby little fingers never managed to make the keys play in harmony. On Mondays, from five to six, it was Ameliaâs lesson time. While taking off his shoes and his jacket, Gordon allowed himself to stay and listen. No one heard him, no one noticed him, only the Piano Sonata n° 11 from Mozart was filling the air with grace. With his mum gently bending over Amelia, both so calm and so focused, to Gordon they represented the quintessence of elegance, it was almost divine, like an untouchable mirage.
On the next day, Gordon stayed at school for study period. He barely had any homework to do but it was a good way to avoid Nathan and his friends when walking home. Tonight though, he was mainly staying because it was pouring outside: dark clouds were rolling, thunder was rumbling and Gordon could almost feel electricity tickling on this tongue, leaving a metallic taste on it. He waited until the very last moment, braced himself and started to run home. He wished he could speed up the fifteen minutesâ walk that separated school and his house, but after three hundred meters, he stopped at the crossing, panting, the plastic of his raincoat sticking on his sweaty skin, his chubby-cheeked face bright red. While waiting for the little red man to turn green, Gordon heard a soft sound, a cry in the rain. The boy looked around, trying to identify where it was coming from. The street was empty except for a few cars parked in line on the side of the road. When he heard the sound again, he recognised it, it was a cat meowing. Gordon kneeled next to a 4x4 and saw it: a podgy ginger cat, all wet and looking well grumpy. It looked pitiful and was shivering because of the cold. The pupil started to softly talk to it, trying his best to make it come out from under the car. Eventually, the little feline let Gordon catch it, it was wearing a red collar with a golden medal on which was engraved a name and an address:
Cinnamon
10 Black Wall Street
Naufary
Gordon recognised the address and almost immediately regretted picking up the cat. Every kid in town could picture what the house on 10 Black Wall Street looked like. Due to its sinister aspect, it was considered by many to be haunted house of Naufary. Gordon had to walk for twenty minutes under the rain to get there, while holding the grumpy and tired cat close to his chest, only Cinnamonâs head was popping out of the jacket. As the boy approached the old house, the cat let out a weak meow of content and purred a bit. Gordon slowly opened the barrier leading to the front garden, making a grating noise, and as his steps on the gravel path echoed around, he had the impression to be the loudest person ever. He felt intimidated by the house, it looked like an ancient small manor, the facade had a few cracks and could have used some paint. There were wooden pillars supporting the walls, and on top of each one of them was a statue representing the face of a cherub; half of them were supposed to be laughing, but the look on their face appeared to be more of a demonic grin, the other half were crying and Gordon had to admit that the sculptor did a good job at this: they seemed to be under some kind of eternal and horrific torture.
âThe sooner I am done with this, the better,â whispered the young boy.
Gathering all his courage, he pressed the electric bellâs button once and was surprised to hear that the ringtone was Brother John. The nursery rhyme contrasted sharply with the atmosphere drawn by the building. Gordon never met the person living in the house, but he could not help but imagine a ghost or a vampire behind the door. He got quite a surprise when he saw the owner: a tall and slim woman wearing black trousers and a long white woollen cardigan, she had thin and rectangular glasses on her nose and her greyish hair was tied into a messy bun. The lady stared at the boy in a suspicious way before asking him if she could help him. Gordon tried to talk but he kept on stumbling and he could feel the cat getting agitated. As an answer, he simply opened his coat and handed the cat to the woman.
âCinnamon! You found my cat! I have been looking for her for hours, thank you very much. Cinnamon is very precious to me.â
As it was still raining a lot, and wanting to thank the boy properly, the lady invited him inside. Gordon hesitated, this woman was a stranger but he was too cold, too shy and too intimidated to say no. He followed Cinnamonâs owner to the kitchen and was surprised by the inside of the house: it was a bit dusty and old-fashionned but there was nothing frightening about it, the atmosphere was cosy and a delicate smell of incense was floating in the air. Cinnamon ran to her basket and curled herself to sleep. Gordon noticed three other cats in the house, all of them were observing him intensely, which made him feel uneasy.
âWhat is your name, boy?â
âGordon, âmam.â
âYou helped me a lot today, Gordon. Cinnamon is pregnant and the litter is due soon. She always likes to hide to give birth, but she is too adventurous at times. Would you like a hot drink and a snack?â
âYes please, can I have a hot chocolate?â
The woman poured some water in a kettle and switched it on. Then she took a biscuit tin out of the cupboard and placed it on the kitchen table. It looked vintage with its faded colours and the illustration representing a couple elegantly dressed, riding horses on a carousel at a town fair. It reminded him of his auntieâs cookies, the ones with almonds and white chocolate chunks, because she would keep them in a similar box.
âHelp yourself,â simply said the woman to him with an encouraging smile.
Gordon grabbed the box and opened it, he could not believe his eyes, only two cookies were inside and they were looking exactly like his auntâs, and after nibbling one of them, he realised that they also tasted the same. The cat lady placed two cups on the table and the kettle started to whistle, she poured some of the content into Gordonâs cup, hot chocolate directly came out. The pupil knew something was abnormal, all the cats, the cookies, this kettle producing hot chocolate even when it got only filled with water in the first placeâŠ
âMy mum says that one should only boil water in a kettle, otherwise it damages it.â
The lady started to fill her own cup from the same kettle but a green liquid came out of it. Gordon recognised the smell of mint tea.
âYouâre a smart little boy, arenât you? What a very polite way to tell me that you see what is going on here, and yet, you are not running at the door.â
âI think you are nice.â
The lady smiled and both remained silent while drinking their cup. One of the cats climbed on the table, attracted by the smell of milk from the hot chocolate. Gordon approached his hand to pet it and the cat allowed him to proceed.
âHaggis is a softy.â, commented the lady.
âHis name is Haggis?â, chuckled Gordon. âBut⊠itâs not even a brown cat. Why did you name it like this?â
âI donât know, I just thought it would be a good name for a cat,â she shrugged.
Shortly after, both noticed that the rain had stopped. The witch pointed out that Gordonâs mum must have been waiting for him, he knew that it was time to leave. Before shutting the door, she said to the boy that she would see him again.
The last sentence the witch said to Gordon worried him a bit, but as the weeks went by, he forgot about it. Nothing much changed in Gordonâs life, except that his grandpa passed away. The boy really liked him and missed going to the museum and exhibitions with him, as they would usually do several times a month. Two months after the funerals, his grandma decided to pack some of his husband belongings and Gordon did his best to help, he really did; but when sorting out the books, he got captivated by the collection of History books. Moved at this scene, Gordonâs grandma told him that he could keep them if he wanted to.
About three months after meeting the witch, Gordon saw her again, as she promised. She was waiting for him after school, sitting on a bench. Gordon noticed that no one would stand too close to her, and everyone looked at him eyes wide and tongue tied when he sat next to her and started chatting. Even Nathan and his friends did not dare to come and bother them. Shortly after sitting next to the woman, Gordon noticed that she carried a grey travel cage for small pets and asked her how was Cinnamon and if the cat was inside. She replied that Cinnamon was just fine and that she gave birth to five kittens, and that they were all healthy. She also added:
âWithout you, who knows what could have happened to her. I wanted to thank you for your kindness and brought you a gift.â
Gordon felt embarrassed but also excited and he thanked the witch before even seeing what was inside the cage. When she placed it on his lap, he peered inside and saw a tiny tabby cat with a long thin tail, on which he counted nine white rings.
âItâs one of Cinnamonâs kitten, isnât it? Itâs very cute, thank you! But⊠I donât know if my mum will let me keep it.â
âShe will, I know she will. But if you were to have a problem, remember that there will always be a place for this cat at my house.â
âDoes it have a name yet?â, asked Gordon.
âNo, you will have to give it one, itâs a male.â
Gordon remained thoughtful for a moment and observed the little ball of fur sleeping on the blanket.
âHeâs so tiny, in my grandpaâs books, they say that Napoleon was small too and despite this he became emperor. I will name him like this: Napoleon.â
The lady giggled at this but who was she to criticise after all? She never had much inspiration for names and all her cats were named after sweet treats and dishes. After giving him a few recommendations, she let the boy go home. He started to walk away with a bright smile on his face.
âSuch a lonely soul.â, whispered the witch before getting up and going home.
Gordon never really knew how Napoleon died the first time and could only guess, he was eighteen and living close to a car park near the university. For some obscure reasons, only known by cats, Napoleon liked to hang there. One evening, when Gordon entered his room, the window was open and a tabby little kitty was sleeping on the bed. It was a copy of the old Napoleon, except for one missing ring on his tail, only 8 were left. Gordon was only half astonished, the cat has always been special in ways he could not explain, and also, it was a gift from a witch.
Gordon easily graduated from university and became a History teacher. The students neither liked nor disliked him, they found him a bit boring but he was always fair when it came to grading and that was good enough for them. The teacher had two short-term relationships, but both girls left him to live more adventurous lives, and Gordon spent most of his lifetime alone. He had only one good friend: Fabrizio, the literature teacher, who had the same difficulties as Gordon to blend in and have a normal life. Luckily, Gordon had Napoleon. Every time he cried because another relative passed away, he was there, trying to ease his pain. For every heartbreak, every night he watched TV alone, every time he thought that his life did not mean much, he looked at the cat and remembered that he was not so lonely.
When Gordon turned fifty-six, the cat was only two years old and was living his last life. Napoleon was young and full of energy and loved to play, but his owner could not take care of him like he used to. The cat noticed that Gordon was not sleeping well and stayed at home more and more often, until he eventually stopped going to work completely. When his owner went out, most of the time he came back smelling of bleach and chemicals. One day, Gordon came back from the doctor and walked directly into his room and smashed the door behind him after throwing a folder through the corridor. He did not allow the pet to come inside. Napoleon could hear his owner crying and he meowed and scratched the door to catch his attention. The cat felt distressed and did not know what to do, it was the first time that Gordon would not let him cuddle him when he was upset. So, Napoleon waited, patiently, silently, for his owner to feel better.
One week after getting the results from the doctor, Gordon took a firm and definitive decision. After much time and effort, he managed to make Napoleon go into the travel cage and placed it in the car. He wished it was possible to postpone this, but there was not much time left, he had to do it now while he could still drive. Gordon lived most of his life in a little town close to Naufary. It took him only fifteen minutes to arrive at n° 10 Black Wall Street. The house looked less scary now that he was a man, even though, he still thought that the cherubs looked creepy. However, someone took care of the garden and finally repainted the facade, which made the house look much nicer. Gordon rang the bell and a young woman rapidly opened the door.
âHi, can I help you?â
It was a shock for the man, something about this woman reminded him of the witch but it was not possible, it could not be the same person. She had long blond hair tied into a bun and was wearing round glasses. She was tall and had an elegant silhouette.
âHello, sorry to bother you. My name is Gordon and I am searching for the lady who lived here⊠a bit more than forty years ago. I need to talk to her.â
She invited Gordon to come in, told him that she just boiled some tea and asked him if he wanted some. The house had not changed much apart from a few new furniture and some fresh paint on the walls. In his box, Napoleon was strangely calm, as if he could remember that this used to be his house as a kitty. Gordon followed the woman in the kitchen, he placed the box close to him and shortly after, two other cats approached it and Napoleon hissed a bit in fear.
âMinty! Biscuit! Leave Napoleon alone, tss, tss, out of my kitchen.â she ordered.
The last sentence made Gordon click, he never told this woman the catâs name. He asked her:
âYou already know why I am here today, donât you?â
âAnd you, you are still a clever and polite boy, arenât you? Do you still enjoy white chocolate and almond cookies? I baked some this morning.â
Gordon could not help himself and a few tears dropped on the table. The witch waited in silence and brought him some tissues, a cup of tea and a little plate full of cookies.
âYou took very good care of your cat, Gordon. He could give you one of his lives to cure you, you know.â
âYou never told me this but I could feel it somehow. I have the proof of it after seeing you today. But how could I take away his last life? No one is really waiting for me to feel better apart from Napoleon. I would live, but still be so lonely without him.â
Gordon paused and looked at the box with sad eyes before adding:
âThis cat is the best thing that ever happened to me.â
The witch and Gordon sat there in silence, just like forty-seven years ago, but this time, he ate all the cookies on the plate without feeling guilty. They tasted just like his auntâs. The witch let Gordon say goodbye to his cat. Napoleon seemed to understand what was going on and purred loudly on his laps to try to calm his owner down.
âWe took good care of each other, didnât we Napoleon?â
The tiny cat looked up to his owner and blinked softly. If he could speak, the cat would have said that things were going to be ok in the end and that he loved Gordon very much. But as cats, even magical ones, cannot speak, he just meowed and let his owner get up. The witch escorted Gordon to the door and watched him walk away, before starting his car he waved at her and gave her a sad but grateful smile. She waved back and closed the door saying:
- Tu es un petit garçon intelligent, nâest-ce pas ? Quelle maniĂšre polie de me dire que tu comprends ce qui se passe ici, et pourtant, tu nâessaies pas de fuir.
- Câest lâun des chatons de Cannelle, nâest-ce pas ? Il est trĂšs mignon, merci beaucoup ! Mais⊠Je ne sais pas si ma maman voudra que je le garde.
- Elle acceptera, je sais quâelle le gardera. Mais si tu devais avoir le moindre problĂšme, sache quâil y aura toujours une place pour ce chat chez moi.
- Est-ce quâil a un nom ?
- Non, tu dois lui en donner un, câest un mĂąle.
Gordon resta pensif pendant quelques instants en observant la petite boule de poils dormir sur la couverture.