Snap’s Last Visit

Growing up, ghost stories were a part of my life; whether it was TV shows, tales from older relatives, or even my mom casually mentioning the spirit named Sam who supposedly haunted our apartment. But for me, those stories were just that, stories. I had never experienced anything remotely supernatural myself, so the idea of ghosts never really scared me.

That all changed when I turned 20, in 2016.

At the time, I was still in my childhood bedroom. My older brother and I hadn't swapped rooms yet, and I was still grieving the loss of Snap, my first pet. She was a black-and-white ragamuffin, a constant companion throughout my childhood. Losing her hit me harder than I expected.

It was late one night, around 3 a.m. what some might call the witching hour, when something happened that I still can't fully explain to this day. My bed was positioned so I could see the doorway while lying on my side. I wasn’t sure if it was just my emotions playing tricks on me, or maybe the result of one too many late-night Creepypasta stories, but what I saw felt real.

A cat-like silhouette appeared in the doorway, just walking by, as if making its rounds.

For a moment, I froze. Then, something familiar settled over me. The shape reminded me so much of Snap. Her gentle movements, the way she used to stroll through the house. I didn’t feel any fear, only a quiet sense of peace. I even found myself whispering, “Hey, Snap.”

Human ghosts, I figured, might be unsettling. But a ghost cat? Especially one that had been part of the family? That was different. If anything, it felt like a final visit, a small gesture of comfort from a friend who knew me better than anyone.

Maybe it was just my mind trying to soothe the lingering grief. Or maybe, for a brief moment, I experienced something beyond explanation. Either way, it felt like Snap was letting me know she was still around, watching over me in her own quiet, feline way.