The White Cat's Divine Scratching Post Novels & Stories

My skin prickled immediately as if something cold had brushed against it. I couldn't help but gape at her; she was wearing a red silk dress that hung loosely on her body. Her hair, white in color, was long, and it fell over one of her shoulders. In her left hand, she held a white cat, whose fur she was slowly caressing with thin, slender fingers, where her nails were creepily long and crooked at the edge, and it didn't look natural at all. The cat let out a soft meow as she casually caressed it, the sound cutting through the quiet like a warning.

The stopping of time did not affect the divine spirit beast and me. "Isa, you could manipulate the time?" I uttered in surprise. "Huh? Ari, you can move?" Isabella was perplexed. "How could that be?" I chuckled. "I don't know. The white cat in the cage can move as well." I said and looked at the golden-eyed white cat in the small cage. Uh, now that I see it up close, it was actually adorable and fluffy. I wanted to pet it! And what shocked me was the tattoo on its forehead, just like Elle. While Elle's got a flame tattoo, the white cat has a golden-wings tattoo.

We both just make ourselves a bowl of cereal and eat it, and by the time we're done, it's already nine PM. "Come, let's watch telly a bit and then we can go sleep." Theo smiles, but just then a beautiful big cat comes by and I'm sold. "Oh my god, is this yours?" I ask, completely in awe of the fluffy white cat. I stand up and slowly approach it, holding my hand in front of me so that she could sniff it and see I'm not dangerous. "Yeah, that's Snow White." he replies and the kitty scratches her big head against my hand and behins to purr.

have found me so fast. She shoved the thought down. Hard. Across the yard, Jasmine and Kika were locked in a brutal spar. Jasmine—wild cat number 89—was dominating, landing elbow strikes and knee drives that had Kika (101) staggering. Serial stood at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, shouting critiques. “Too slow, 101! You fight like you’re scared of pain—newsflash, it’s coming anyway!” Jasmine swept Kika’s legs; Kika hit the mat hard. Serial barked a laugh. Then her gaze shifted. Landed on Riley. A slow, predatory smile curled her lips. “Oh look who we have here,” Serial called, loud enough to draw eyes from every corner of the yard. “The runaway wild cat. Quite surprising how out of the

Instinctively, she took a step back. A white Persian cat, one eye blue, the other yellow, looked at her with great satisfaction. Felicia's snow-white hands held the little cat, and she smiled, "Why are you scared, third younger sister? This is the long-haired cat that Eldest Brother sent to me. Look, it's so cute!" Emma recognized this cat from her previous life; it was Felicia's beloved pet, a proud and stubborn creature that once scratched Phil's tiny hands, making them bleed.

“Their membership was revoked and they were kicked out. I believe the white witch was enraged that day.” “Did you just say white witch?” Dylan checked. “Yes, that is how the owner is referred to.” “Are you talking about a real witch or something?” “To be honest, I don't know, but what I noticed was that she only wore white clothes and had white hair.” “Is she really that old?” “She appears to be very young; no one knows anything about her. She's a mystery, but she's also the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” He couldn't believe such a thing existed, but whatever it was, it wouldn't hurt to see for himself.

She the purred louder, rubbing her head against the princess's hip, trying to get her to continue petting. She leaned over slightly, kissing the top of the cat's head, then scratching under her chin. "She really likes it when you scratch there..." she informed him. The cat sat and craned her neck upward, as if encouraging her to pet there more. She scratched her jaw harder than put her hands behind her back, signaling she was done petting.

A big cat. The mewing has stopped. Now she is quiet. But the scratching continues. And every few seconds, I hear her try to say one word. The only word she remembers. "Dada." I don't know what came home with me tonight. But I know it is not my daughter. And I know that Whiskers tried to protect us. He died for it. The scratching is getting louder.

His wife, Iliana Granger, was Adrian's bitch of a mother, so we knew now that it was our little white Dove that we were on our way to claim. The name white dove had come from my mother, Nina. She said her coos always reminded her of a dove, and her soft white hair was as white as snow, and since then, the name White Dove had stuck. My mother was more of a mum to the five Vassilev children, and it broke her when Vi was taken, she felt like her own daughter had been taken from her. Their mother didn’t give a shit about the family; she just wanted the money and the lifestyle that came with being a part of the mafia. She had never been much of a mother to her children, and she was so jealous whe

My anxiousness creeps in again. What's taking Liam so long? What if his grandfather shows up while he's still outside? Does he really expect me to face the man alone? While I'm sitting here waiting, I notice a big white cat stalking towards me. It looks fluffy and friendly, so I smile and hold out my hand. “Hey there, kitty...” I expect the cat to meow or purr or totally ignore me. But no! Instead, it jumps on top of me and starts clawing at my hair, scratching my face.