Auguste Octobre
By Mir Hite

Instead of slicing into the smooth, fluffy texture of the pie, the clean fork slid through, the filling parting like the Red Sea at the silverware’s bidding, finally breaking through the bland crust and coming to rest on the plate neatly.

With care, Camron lifted the fork into his mouth and let the fragment of pie slip onto his tongue. Immediately, he could taste the pleasant spice that accompanied the pumpkin, and he could smell the remnants of the French Vanilla whipped cream on his fork. That was the only way that he could even determine that it had been there at all, for the taste of the pie overpowered any other in his mouth.

The only drawback to such a delicacy was how bland the crust of the pie was. Compared to the explosion of seasonal flavors that made up the favored part of the dessert, the crust was as plain and ordinary as a slice of bread or a leaf in the street. It held no real flavor to it. That, the consumer supposed, was the reason for making the filling so flavorful.

As soon as the last bit of pie had been eaten, Camron took pleasure in licking the fork clean and setting it down as well. Silently, he thanked the aging woman next door, who always made them a pie in exchange for them raking her yard clean of the dead leaves. Each year, the homemade treat was delicious, and a slice of it found its way into the yellow-eyed teenager’s stomach, leaving him with a warm feeling and a taste in his mouth that he was disappointed to have to let go of.

Brushing some of his dyed hair out of his face, he rose from the table with plate in hand and couldn’t help but to remember what his hair had been not all that long ago. Why the previously dark locks had been shocked white as his curse had come into play, after the ghost, Nora, had pulled him from his unconscious body and taken him to the Plane of the Dead.

The warm water from the faucet spilled over his hands as he scrubbed the plate clean of the crumbs, making sure that there was no way that either a bit of pie or whipped cream remained on the dishes. However, he took no notice of what he was doing, being completely filled with the memories of what had made him a Grim Sublime, a human fated to become a Grim Reaper.

At the age of only seven years, Camron had come down with a horrible case of the flu, one that had nearly cost him his life, if not for the Grim, Ryding, having stepped on his teddy bear and woken him up.

Foolishly, Camron had pointed at him, which ensured his fate; he was to be a Grim Sublime.

After drying the dishes, completely forgetting that he had a dishwasher less than two feet away from him which could have just as easily cleaned the dishes for him, he placed them into their respective cabinets and drawers before sighing and glancing out the window, a few falling leaves having caught his eye.

The towering maple in their yard was releasing leaves from its branches and boughs, letting them scatter all over the lawn in a shower of reds and yellows. The sight was captivating, to say the least, though Camron had seen it sixteen other times in his life. Like the excitement of the first snow of winter, the image of leaves falling in the sunlight was one that would always fascinate him.

However, despite his desire to continue to gaze at the peaceful scene that had been laid out before him, Camron’s mother called him into the living room. The laughter in her tone gave away that whatever she had to show him was pleasing in some way, and that only served to pique his curiosity even more so. With a cautious step that he had grown accustomed to in the past few months, he meandered into the living room.

The sight that met his eyes was one that could have easily made him smile, if not for the instigator of such a pleasant scene lying in his mother’s arms.

Yellow eyes met yellow eyes as Camron quickly found the purring kitten. Sleek, black, and small, the creature caught the interest of the other female in the household, who reached out to pet it, her red hair bobbing in her face. Yet, as the kitten caught sight of Camron, for reasons unknown, lost in the non-existent logic that surrounded cats, she hissed and spat, scratching at his sister’s hand and slicing the skin, drawing small droplets of blood.

“Yeowch!” Melissa pulled back her hand, frowning in displeasure at the sight of the blood that adorned the back of her hand. Mrs. Reds held the at close, trying to calm it without smothering it, just as she had learned to do with many cats beforehand. “What on earth is wrong with this kitten?” She frowned.

Camron sighed and shrugged. “I guess it just doesn’t like me, that’s all.” He murmured, allowing his mother to reluctantly agree. “I just don’t get it.” She frowned. “She was so calm before…”

“Where did you guys get her in the first place?” Camron asked, his hands finding their way into the safety of his pockets, to prevent him from touching anything living. He knew from his experience with Macey, the cat that was now undead and living with a witch, that if he touched anything, he’d suck the life right out of it.

Donnie was an exception, but he didn’t count in the matter, as far as Camron was concerned.

The teen focused his gaze on his younger sister. “Where did you find the cat anyhow?” he frowned, wondering why she would bring home a creature that would harm her. Though, he had to remind himself, that she couldn’t see the future any better than he could.

Mel smiled sweetly, hints of her scowl still evident in her eyes. “I found her on my walk home, from a friend’s house. She was cold and shivering underneath a box… I felt so bad.” She murmured.

Camron frowned and glanced furtively at the cat, who hissed at him. Perhaps the cat sensed that he was a threat to it? He didn’t blame her. He would be scared of himself, too. Scared of Death itself. He wished that he could reach out and alleviate the kitten’s fears with a gentle pet, though he didn’t want a corpse in his mother’s lap.

“Is this all you wanted to show me?” He asked sullenly, his hands still remaining in his pockets, though by now, they would have balled into fists if there was enough room between the two layers of denim.

Mrs. Reds nodded. “Camron, I’m considering keeping her. I know you’re upset about Macey, but this will be good for you.”

‘This will be good for you.’ One of the ultimate reasons a parent had to force their child into something. Camron noticed it right away, and sighed. “It’s not—whatever.”

He had begun to say that it wasn’t that he missed Macey. Truth be told, he could see her whenever he pleased, though he had to say that the thought of petting a ‘horrible, man-eating, undead beast’ was far less appealing than petting a cute, lovable, cat.

“So… what are you going to name her?” he decided to ask, trying to make it seem that he was even the least bit more excited about the new addition to their family. Mel thought for a moment, before nodding. “Noire is a good name.” She decided, her own logic spewing forth something foreign. “…. Noire?” Camron felt the need to question her choice in name.

“In French, Noire is the feminine form of Noir, which means black. And since she’s a black cat… I thought that it would fit.” Melissa said, and Mrs. Reds nodded. “Noire is a perfect name for this little girl.” She smiled, listening to the kitten purr as she scratched her behind the ears.

And so, Noire came to be a part of the Reds family. However, Camron figured out no more than a week later that he disliked—no, hated—the kitten more than he’d initially thought.

“Melissa!” he screamed in nothing short of utter rage, as he lifted up the shredded remains of a pillowcase, and the rest of his room wasn’t any better. Blankets, sheets, curtains, everything made up of dangling fabric, or paper, for that matter, had been reduced to threads and pieces of what it had formerly been.

At her brother’s less than pleased call, Melissa slowly sauntered into the room, knowing that when her elder sibling’s voice held that tone, she was in for it. Allowing herself to peer into the room, she frowned at what she saw. “What on earth-?”

Her brother shot her a glare, one full of fire and just the slightest hint at a possibility of forgiveness, though it was buried so deeply that it was hard to tell that it existed at all. “Your cat decided to wreak havoc in here!” he cried, holding up the remains of his curtains to show her. “Melissa, if you don’t learn to keep that thing in your room during school, then-”

“She’s your cat too, Camron! She belongs to everyone in the family. So you need to take care of her too, and don’t just drop the blame for what she does on me and Mom.” Melissa defended, her hands on her hips.

“Well, you found her, so she’s more yours than anyone else’s. So learn to control her, okay?” Camron sighed, beginning to gather up the torn cloth and paper, with every intention of throwing it out and going to buy new bedclothes and probably curtains, too.

Mel frowned and leaned against her brother’s doorframe. “Mom won’t be home in time for dinner, so she asked me to make it.” She said, trying to help Camron feel a bit better. He stopped and looked up at her. “Where did she go?”

“She went for a mammogram with her friends. They’re free this month or something…”

“Oh, that’s right. She told me earlier. I guess I forgot.” Camron sighed, pulling the blankets off his bed and finding a small lump of black fur, curled up into a ball and fast asleep.

Mel frowned. “Camron, don’t move her. She looks so peaceful…” she began, though Camron shook his head. “I don’t want to move her. She needs her sleep.” He tossed the blankets into the corner and smiled at his sister, who smiled back. “She’ll appreciate it.” She grinned, and Camron nodded. “Yeah, and so will her immune system, I’m sure.”

The two laughed and smiled at each other, unaware that they were being watched by half-open yellow eye before it closed again, its owner drifting off into a cat-like version of Dreamland.

Noire stayed with them for the rest of the month, burrowing her way into Camron’s heart, a challenge that she was glad to have taken up and completed. However, on the twenty-ninth of October, with Noire curled up at the foot of his bed, he found that there was someone knocking on the door.

Now, this particular October 29th was a Saturday. Camron didn’t mind slipping out of bed on a Saturday morning to answer the door, but it was seven o’ clock, and he had been catching up on some much-needed sleep.

So with a yawn and a stretch, being careful not to disturb his feline friend, Camron got up and went downstairs to open the front door with a smile. He heard the pitter-patter of four padded paws walking after him, so he knew that Noire had gotten up herself, apparently playing duckling.

The door creaked on its hinges as he opened it carefully, enough to see who was outside but not enough to let Noire slip out into the street. Surprisingly, a young woman, likely younger than himself, stood at the door with a smile and a baby blanket folded neatly over her arm.

“Are you Camron Reds?” she asked shyly. It was quite obvious that she had to pluck up a lot of courage out of nowhere to even get to his front door. “Yes, I am… Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes, I’m here for Addy.”

Camron was immensely confused as to who this ‘Addy’ person was, but he saw the girl’s eyes light up at the sight of the black kitten, he knew right away.

“Noire is your kitten?” he queried, stepping aside to let her pick the purring creature up and wrap her in the blanket to protect her from the chill of the morning. “Yes, she is. I went on vacation with my family this month, and my friend accidentally let Addy get out. I’m glad that you found her, Mr. Reds.”

Camron frowned. “How do you know who I am, anyhow?” he asked, knowing that he probably sounded stupid for asking now, and not earlier. “Oh, you’re an upperclassman at school.” She provided with a shy smile. “I heard your name before… and someone told me that you had a new kitten. Mr. Morning.”

Donnie. Camron should have known that he’d have something to do with this. He was probably the one who told this poor girl to come at seven on a Saturday morning, too.

“I’ll miss her,” he admitted to himself under his breath, glancing at the purring kitten, who’d burrowed herself into the crook of the girl’s arm.

“I’m sorry…” She frowned. “The mother is having another litter soon, if you want me to tell you when-” she began, but Camron shook his head. “That’s okay, but thanks for the offer.”

The girl nodded and smiled, petting Addy with a yawn. She must have been tired, too. It made sense that she would be. “Hey, wait, I didn’t catch your name…” he began, and she shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m no one important.” She murmured, twirling a bright orange calendula between her fingers. “Have a nice day, though, and I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Camron shook his head, as if to say that it was alright. A strong gust of wind blew through, blowing around the maple leaves from the towering tree in the backyard, still damp with frost that had long-since melted from the warmth of the orange sunrise.

He frowned and looked at the leaves with a sigh. “I’m going to have to rake all of those up now, too….” He rumbled, going back inside and closing the door tightly behind him, with every intention of going back to bed.