The Stuffed Tiger

Oh good lord, this is the last Creepypasta of the night... "Yawn" Let's see, where's the story, oh here it is. Who out of my school went through (or alledgedly did) this? Oh, me; what's this story?  Oh...God, I remember, yes, God, yes. This was either real, or I have a very vivd imagination. Hmm, let's get to this.

...

My dad bought me a tiger for a Christmas years ago, a stuffed one, mind you. I was probably seven, I think. Yes, somewhere in there. The tiger, was frightening, a mother tiger. He had carried out the gigantic tiger stuff animal in a bag presented to me. He gave a lion head to my brother, and an iPod to my mother.

In later years, I find out that he stole the tiger, but at the time, I was happy to get a stuff animal as big as me.

Anyway, the tiger, since it was the same size as me, scared me. It's yellow eyes glared at me all the time. When I was little, I would stuff it under my bed to keep it away from me, but it was a nice stuff animal.

As I entered middle school, I would lie with stuff animal. Sometimes it was a nice comfort, and that continued into highschool.

Sometimes, when I was dressing and undressing, I would turn around to find the discarded stuff animal, still over half the size of me, staring at me. Somedays, it made me feel fear, others, it made feel exposed. I always told myself it was just a stuff animal, it cannot do anything.

These occurrences kept happening over the years I had it. One day I had woke up, and begun to dress, dancing a little to a song I love, and I thought I heard laughter, male laughter. Turning, I surveyed my basement room to find no one there. It must have been my imagination, for only my mother and I lived in this house. The rest of the day, I swear I could still hear laughter.

Another day, I came home, after a rough day of drama and heartbreak to collapse, snuggling up to my stuff animal. I tucked my head onto the tiger's chest, and it's head somehow found itself in the crook of my neck. Almost, humanly, I swore I felt warm breath on my neck. At first I ignored it, but then I swore I felt a tongue on my neck. Jerking backward, I stared at my stuff animal, to find it...a stuff animal.

That night the tiger had gone on the couch.

More odd occurrences had happened, especially when I had friends over. One night I had thrown my stuff animal on the ground to make room for my friend, since I didn't want her to sleep on the ground. When I woke up, my friend was on the ground, the stuff animal in its place, and she complained I pushed her off, and pulled the stuff animal back on. All I had been doing was sleeping, butshe insisted I did it. Another time, my friend and I had been watching a movie, and she was casually leaning on my tiger. Halfway through the movie, she jerked up, claiming that something had bit her. There were no marks on her arm, but the only thing near her hand was the tiger.

I guess over the years, the stuff animal, was like another human. Still, I keep it on my bed, with my arms wrapped around it snugly. Sometimes, things like stated occur, but I still keep it there. Sometimes in the night, I swear I hear these words.

"You're mine, mine only."

Whispered, with a rough voice. The tiger still is on my bed this very moment, but as a last parting, I'll recall the worst memory of myself with the tiger.

It was after a school day, and I needed a hug. My mom was out running errands, and I just lay with the tiger reading books. Bored reading, I ended up closing my eyes, and hugging the stuff animal, feeling sad that it would not provide warmth of a human. Yet, I swear I felt the warm breath again, and the heartbeat, but I dismissed it as a lonely girl's overactive imagination, but as the day grew till night, it turned weirder.

"Mine, mine, mine, you are mine. Relax and let me take you." It kept repeating over and over, and I ended up relaxing, my mind going blank.

I must have fell asleep, but in my dream, the tiger stuff animal moved as a real tiger would, but it was still distinctly stuffed. It beckoned me with its head, and I followed it, as it walked through a forest, and I ignored the surroundings. It was almost to a clearing that I could not see what lay in it, but I was on the verge of following when I heard my cat meow. Distracted from the alluring eyes of the tiger, I looked around and saw the dead bodies of many, many children, many adults, just many people. They were all horribly mutilated, and the tiger beckoned me to ignore them and follow.

"They weren't mine, I told them so, but you are mine. You gave me my second chance."

My cat's meow, caused me to turn again, seeing the bodies, and many more things. I heard my mothers voice as well, telling me to wake up. The tiger looked angered, it growled and leaped in the direction of the voices. I woke up, and my mom hovered above me.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

I remember assuring her I was, and in later months, I was helping her out, and noticed three scars on her back, like claw marks. I asked her what it was, and traced them out for her, but she didn't know. I examined my own cat, and found she to had a scar like of a very big cat's claw on her side.

I tried to blow it off as just a cat fight scar, but when I examined my stuffed tiger, I found that wasn't the case.

My stuffed tiger's paws were stained with blood, and there was a tear in it's stitching as if another animal had ripped its leg open. I sewed it up, thinking it my own clumsy fault, but the dream still haunts me, as well as the reminders. I swear the stench of blood hasn't disappeared from its paws.

...

What did this tale hold, well it held a stuffed tiger stolen for a Christmas present that through years of pouring emotion into the tiger it either attracted the attention of a demon or a ghost. The tiger's dead victims are, but those who have been corrupted, and dirtied their souls without thought. The warning, as all creepypasta's have them, is a stolen gift is not one to be kept, for it was taken in greed and will possess the emotion of greed only.