Autobiography Part 1

I've led a pretty boring life, if I'm honest. Nobody is ever going to request my autobiography, but if they were to ask.... Well, here's a slice of autopieography. This memory comes from when I was around 13 years old. I was a cruel child. 

Ghost Cat.


Darkness descended on the navy hallway as I flicked off the light and took my place in the procession on the stairs. My hand firmly clasped my brick-like mobile, the instrument of her terror. I set the scene and we lay in wait. I pressed the button and an echoing 'meow' sounded out. Ghost cat had arrived. She sat, entranced as we wove our tale, the story of a cat which haunted the house endlessly searching for her master, mewling and alone. I heard her breath catch in her throat as I once more pushed the button. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Matthews hand inch towards his pocket. "Some say that if the cat sounds a bang, she is summoning her ghostly friends because she is in trouble." I flinched. Had he taken it too far? Charley's eyes said no. She was caught in our web. BANG! The party popper exploded. She screamed. We collapsed in a fit of hysterics, falling over each other to switch on the light and catch a glimpse of the sheer terror written on her face.