He's Coming For You. A Mystery And A Warning

Hi, I’m Ellie, and last weekend I got tangled up in the weirdest mystery of my life. It all started with Mr. Whiskers—Mrs. Thornton’s grumpy, fat, gray tabby who lives two houses down. Everyone in the neighborhood knows Mr. Whiskers. He’s famous for hissing at kids and stealing hot dogs off backyard grills.

But last week, Mr. Whiskers vanished.

Mrs. Thornton knocked on every door on our street, asking if anyone had seen him. “He’s never wandered off like this before!” she cried. “He always comes home for dinner!”

I wanted to help, mostly because I felt bad for Mrs. Thornton. So I decided to search for Mr. Whiskers.

At first, I didn’t find much. A paw print here, a tuft of fur there. Then I saw something strange. In the yard next door, Tyler—the kid I barely talked to because he was so quiet—was sitting on his porch, petting Mr. Whiskers.

The thing was, Mr. Whiskers didn’t look grumpy or annoyed, like he usually did around humans. He was sitting perfectly still, staring up at Tyler like he was waiting for instructions. And Tyler? He wasn’t just petting the cat. He was talking to him in this low, whispery voice.

I crouched behind the bushes and watched as Mr. Whiskers jumped off the porch, darted to the sidewalk, and disappeared into the shadows. Tyler just stood there, watching him go.

The next day, Mrs. Thornton was still out searching, but when I walked past Tyler’s house, Mr. Whiskers was back—this time, following Tyler around like a little robot. Tyler didn’t even have a leash, but every time he pointed, Mr. Whiskers went exactly where he wanted.

That’s when I knew something was up.

I decided to investigate. That night, I snuck into my backyard with my notebook and binoculars. From there, I had a clear view of Tyler’s house. Around 8:00 PM, I saw him come out onto the porch with Mr. Whiskers. Tyler knelt down, and I heard him whispering again.

This time, though, something weird happened. Mr. Whiskers tilted his head, like he was listening. Then he looked right at me. Right at me.

I ducked behind a tree, my heart pounding. Could the cat see me in the dark?

The next day, I decided to get closer. I told my mom I was going to “visit a friend” and made my way to Tyler’s yard. Tyler wasn’t outside, but I could hear his voice coming from the garage.

“Good work,” he was saying. “Now, for tonight—”

I crept closer, peeking through a crack in the garage door. Inside, Tyler was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Mr. Whiskers in front of him. But Tyler wasn’t holding a leash or a treat. He was holding a shiny, black stone that glowed faintly in his hands.

“What is that?” I whispered to myself.

Suddenly, Mr. Whiskers’ head snapped toward me. Before I could move, the cat darted to the door and let out a long, low yowl.

The door creaked open, and Tyler’s face appeared. “Ellie?”

I froze. “Uh… hi. I was just… looking for my soccer ball?”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I bolted.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about Tyler and the glowing stone. What was he doing with Mr. Whiskers? And why did the cat seem so… different?

The next morning, I decided to confront Tyler. I marched up to his house and knocked on the door.

When he opened it, he looked surprised. “What do you want?”

“I know something’s going on with you and Mr. Whiskers,” I said. “I saw you with that stone. What are you doing to him?”

Tyler blinked, then laughed. “You think I’m controlling the cat?”

“Well… yeah!”

Tyler stepped closer, his voice low. “Ellie, you don’t understand. I’m not controlling the cat. The cat is controlling me.”

I stared at him, my mouth open. “What?”

“The stone,” he whispered. “It’s not mine. It’s his. He uses it to make me do things—to bring him food, to open doors… to keep him hidden. He’s been in my head for weeks.”

“That’s ridiculous!” I said. “It’s just a cat!”

Tyler shook his head. “You think that, but he’s not just a cat. He’s something else. And now that you’ve seen him, he’s going to come for you, too.”

I backed away, shaking my head. “You’re crazy.”

That night, I heard scratching at my window. When I looked outside, there he was—Mr. Whiskers, sitting on the sill, staring at me with his glowing green eyes. In his mouth was the black stone, pulsing with light.

I slammed the window shut and pulled the curtains, but I could still feel his gaze.

Now I know the truth. Mr. Whiskers isn’t missing. He’s in control. And I’m next.