Changing faster than I thought

By the time I got home from the library, I’d decided to order dinner instead of cooking. (Partly because I was lazy. Mostly because I was afraid my new raccoon instincts would take over and I’d eat raw pasta straight from the box.)

I was halfway through scrolling food delivery apps when I heard it.

A faint tap… tap… tap.

It was coming from inside the walls.

I froze. Again. I’ve been freezing a lot lately — I’m starting to feel like a scared Disney deer.

The tapping moved, slow and deliberate, toward the hallway. Then it stopped.

The light above me flickered.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Nope. Not today. Not tonight. I am done.”

I grabbed my jacket and bolted for the front door. My plan was simple: leave the apartment, get food, maybe never come back.

But as soon as I stepped into the hallway, my nose caught a scent.

Sharp. Sweet. Familiar.

Pickles.

My mouth watered instantly. I followed the smell without thinking, like a cartoon character drifting toward a pie on a windowsill. It led me down two flights of stairs, past the mailboxes, and right into the alley beside the building.

That’s when I saw him.

A man — tall, broad-shouldered — standing in the shadows with a jar of pickles in one hand. He was eating them with a fork like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And he was wearing a mask. Not a ski mask, not a COVID mask — a sleek black mask shaped like a raccoon’s face.

“Uh,” I said, because I’m excellent at conversations.

He didn’t answer. Just tilted his head like he was studying me.

Something shifted in my peripheral vision — a tail. My tail. It had decided to show up uninvited.

The masked man’s eyes followed the movement, and then he smiled.

It wasn’t a nice smile.

“You’re changing faster than I thought,” he said, voice low and amused. “Better keep your closet shut.”

Before I could respond, he stepped backward into the shadows — and vanished. Like, full-on magic trick, no trap door, no running away. Just gone.

I stood there with my tail twitching and my heart hammering, holding eye contact with an empty patch of brick wall.

Then my stomach growled. Loudly.

I looked down. The jar of pickles was sitting at my feet.

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Diary Entry #4

Dear Diary,

Today I:

1. Heard the closet thing moving through the walls.

2. Met a man wearing a raccoon mask who knows about my tail.

3. Watched him vanish into thin air.

4. Accepted a jar of pickles from a potential supernatural stalker.

I think I’m officially in some kind of furry-themed horror movie.

Also: if the masked guy shows up again, I need to ask why his pickles were actually amazing.

— Me