Your family has always had a knack for acquiring bad luck.
You don't know what some poor unfortunate soul in your bloodline must have done to seemingly offend every power in the universe at once, but given the way that any hex, jinx, curse, vengeful ghost or general bad vibe you encounter is instantly drawn to you like you're a maximum strength bullshit magnet, you have to assume it must have been severe.
Needless to say, it makes trying to live a normal life very difficult.
Being an average numan, you're not able to even see magical things, let alone learn any magic for yourself. Things did get a bit easier when you befriended a witch in college- the regular cleansings and protective charms are a bit more affordable with a 'friends and family' discount, when every deflected curse in the city comes your way.
Still, on days like today, you go even farther out of your way to avoid any ill omens. While you'd like to just hole up all day in your apartment until midnight, the world doesn't stop spinning just because of the date, not many of the workplaces you've had have been sympathetic to paraskavedekatriaphobia as an excuse to call out.
So, you do what you can. You always splurge on a cab so you don't have to walk under any scaffolding on your normal route (you've found over the years that this too counts as a ladder), no manhole covers, no elevators. You don't even look in your bathroom mirror, or any mirror, if you can help it. No salt, no chopsticks, no whistling. No looking at birds or hearing birds or acknowledging the existence of birds, there's just too many species with bad reputations. And perhaps the most important one; NO GRAVEYARDS.
There is only one little blind spot for you this year-
You were recently hired at a cat rescue.
But it's fine. It's full up and there aren't there any currently with black fur. Or at least, there wasn't- yesterday.
What are the chances that one showed up over night?
"Yep, found him in the alley out back on my way in early this morning! Luckily that last adoption went through early, so we had just enough room to take him in." Your employer says cheerfully, gesturing to the small mass of black fur in the quarantine cage. She gently ribs you and adds; "Hope you're not superstitious."
You look down at the small, seemingly featureless creature, trying to act as if you aren't breaking out into a cold sweat.
"Cute." Is all you can manage to say. It's true, but…
"He is cute! And a bit… weird? Even for a cat."
"Oh yeah? How?"
"This sounds silly, but sometimes I'll look at him and it's like…" She balks a little, scoffing. "It'll be like he's not actually there but shows up a split second after looking at him? Like he takes a second to load in, haha…"
"Maybe he's some sort of… something? A magical something that's not a cat?" You hope the paranoia isn't coming through in your voice. "Should we call someone?"
"Mana scan was clean. So, the state-of-the-art veterinary machine seems to think he's a normal, fully domesticated void rex."
It's fine. It's just a little cat. You'll be extra careful to not move in front of it.
You go through the motions of your day; feedings, cleaning cages and litterboxes, giving enrichment and exercise. Most of the cats in-house at the moment are quite friendly, so it's a pleasant and easy enough shift overall.
Finally, the newcomer is the only one left to give some attention.
When you approach the quarantine cage (directly from the front), you notice that neither the kibble you dropped off earlier nor the water you filled has been touched.
In fact, it almost looks like the cage is empty- until you blink and suddenly see the vague outline of the small creature drenched in shadow at the very back of the cage.
You let out the breath you've been holding. You can't let the fact that you're freaked out make you neglect what is probably just a scared animal.
You steel yourself and open the cage door, then sit and wait to see if it decides to wander out.
It doesn't. You spend an inordinate amount of time sitting cross legged on the floor near the cage. Even when you look away, you can feel its eyes on you- though you have yet to actually see its eyes.
The loafing void seems content to just sit and observe.
Against your better judgment, you reach you hand tentatively into the cage to let them sniff.
When they don't immediately voice their displeasure, you slowly, tentatively lower your hand onto them in a gentle pat.
The creature's fur is soft to the touch, and after a pat or two you can feel the telltale rumble of a purr starting to emanate from their body.
Maybe you're being silly? Maybe this is just a cat.
Eventually, you give up and close the cage door, making a quick note in dry erase marker that it doesn't seem to mind touch but you'll need to put in some more work to get the newcomer more confident about leaving the cage.
Somehow you make it to the end of your shift without technically crossing the creature's path.
When it's finally time to head out, there are no rides available in your area. When you check the train schedule, they're all delayed by several hours due to some major traffic accident downtown.
You swear under your breath. You would've asked your manager for a ride home, but you declined and she's already gone- and quite frankly, you haven't been working this job long enough to be comfortable being the weird one yet.
You don't like the idea of standing in front of your workplace all night, so… you guess you'll be risking the walk back to your apartment.
You barely make it a block before you feel the sense of doom creeping up.
You sigh.
Something's following you. Because of course it is.
You immediately pick up your pace.
You don't have to see it to know it's there. There's always a bit of chill that creeps up the back of your neck, and itching in your teeth when there's some sort of something skulking around.
By time you reach the front door of your studio apartment, you're nearly running- but you make it inside and manage to slam the door behind you.
After a few moments spent listening while frozen at the door, you hear enough nothing to move. You kick off your shoes, dive onto your bed and wrap yourself in your duvet. You sit there like a very anxious burrito, watchful eye on your locked and bolted front door. If you just sit here for a few more hours, it will be tomorrow, and you can go back to a sustainable threat level.
That plan goes well until you hear some sort of scratching at your locked window that faces the street. You glance and see nothing, at first- and then a small piece of paper in the vague shape of a bird slips through the crack- fluttering past the sill and landing directly in the middle of the floor.
You close your eyes tight, curling in on yourself. It's just a piece of paper. You'll be fine.
But you can't fool yourself. You know it's a shikigami- and in this case, a representation of a serious curse that was meant for someone else.
You force yourself to watch through the gap in your fingers. If you're going to die, you might as well get the full experience.
Whatever it is you can't see is only marked by the paper bird plastered against what must be its head, if it has one. It has brought with it an icy chill, the sound of distant funeral bells, and the sickly sweet scent of embalming cinnamon incense and rot; and given the sheer weight of it making the floorboards groan, you wager it takes up most of the room.
But what you can see is a shadow push itself underneath the crack of your closed door. It rises up, a flat feline shape barely visible against the moonlit wall, ready to pounce.
You blink.
And then, all that remains is… a shadow? The suggestion of a person? Smack dab in the middle of the room, facing you. No sign there was anything else in the room, not even a shred of paper.
The room is instantly warmer.
You don't feel any fear as it draws closer- not even when it leans down and attempts to bunt its incorporeal head against yours in affection- only grateful bewilderment.
And then, it unceremoniously and instantaneously dissolves into what looks like a puddle of ink. The damp shadow then recedes underneath your bed and back out of sight.
And then- it's as if nothing weird ever happened.
Well, that's… new.
After a few moments of stunned, silent processing, you glance at the digital clock on your nightstand.
12:01 AM.
You can still feel a hum of… something, some sort of energy on the very edge of your perception, like a purring coming from underneath your bed.
New- but not entirely unwelcome, you decide.
