"Only fifty cents," the woman croaked, her gnarled fingers trembling as she handed over the pillow. "But be careful, dearie. Some say it has a mind of its own."
Twelve-year-old Mia couldn't believe her luck when she spotted the fluffy white pillow at the yard sale. It was perfect - just what she needed to complete her bedroom makeover. The old lady running the sale seemed eager to get rid of it, practically shoving it into Mia's arms.
"Only fifty cents," the woman croaked, her gnarled fingers trembling as she handed over the pillow. "But be careful, dearie. Some say it has a mind of its own."
Mia laughed, thinking the old lady was just trying to scare her. She happily paid for the pillow and headed home, excited to show her mom her new treasure.
That night, Mia snuggled into bed, her head resting on the soft, cloud-like pillow. As she drifted off to sleep, she could have sworn she felt it move beneath her, but she dismissed it as her imagination.
In the morning, Mia woke feeling more refreshed than ever. She bounded out of bed, ready to face the day. But as she turned to make her bed, she froze. The pillow was on the floor, several feet from where she'd left it.
"Mom!" she called out. "Did you come into my room last night?"
Her mother appeared in the doorway, looking confused. "No, honey. Why?"
Mia pointed at the pillow. "It moved."
Her mother laughed. "You probably knocked it off in your sleep. You've always been a restless sleeper."
Mia nodded, but she wasn't convinced. She could have sworn she'd slept soundly all night.
Over the next few days, strange things kept happening. Mia would wake to find the pillow in different positions - sometimes on the floor, sometimes at the foot of her bed, and once even balanced precariously on her dresser.
She tried to tell her parents, but they didn't believe her. "It's just your imagination," they said. "Stop watching those scary movies before bed."
But Mia knew it wasn't her imagination. She could feel the pillow watching her, even when her back was turned. Sometimes, she thought she saw it twitch out of the corner of her eye.
One night, unable to sleep, Mia decided to test her theory. She propped herself up in bed, staring at the pillow. For hours, nothing happened. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she started to doubt herself. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe it was all in her head.
Just as she was about to give up and go to sleep, she saw it. The pillow moved. It wasn't much - just a slight shift to the left - but it was unmistakable.
Mia's heart raced. She wanted to scream, to run from the room, but fear paralyzed her. The pillow inched closer, sliding across the bed towards her.
Summoning all her courage, Mia leaped out of bed and ran to her parents' room. "Mom! Dad! The pillow - it's alive!"
Her parents, groggy and irritated, followed her back to her room. But when they flicked on the light, the pillow was exactly where it had been when Mia went to bed.
"See?" her father said, exasperated. "It's just a pillow. Now go back to sleep."
Mia tried to protest, but her parents were already heading back to their room. She was left alone, staring at the innocent-looking pillow.
The next day at school, Mia could hardly concentrate. She kept thinking about the pillow, wondering what it would do next. When her best friend, Jake, asked what was wrong, Mia spilled everything.
To her surprise, Jake didn't laugh. His face grew serious. "My grandma told me stories about objects that come to life," he whispered. "She said they're possessed by spirits. You need to get rid of that pillow, Mia."
Mia nodded, relieved that someone finally believed her. That afternoon, she raced home, determined to throw the pillow away. But when she burst into her room, it was gone.
Panic seized her. She tore apart her room, searching everywhere. It wasn't under the bed, in the closet, or stuffed in her laundry hamper. It had vanished.
For the next week, Mia was on edge. She jumped at every sound, expecting the pillow to reappear at any moment. But nothing happened. Slowly, she began to relax. Maybe it was gone for good.
Then, on Friday night, as Mia was getting ready for bed, she heard a soft thump from her closet. Her blood ran cold. Trembling, she approached the closet door and slowly pulled it open.
There, nestled among her shoes, was the pillow.
Mia stumbled backward, her heart pounding. The pillow seemed to pulse, growing larger with each passing second. Before she could react, it launched itself at her face, smothering her.
She struggled, clawing at the pillow, trying to breathe. But it was like fighting against quicksand - the more she fought, the tighter it clung to her. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision as she felt herself losing consciousness.
Just as she was about to pass out, Mia heard her bedroom door burst open. Strong hands grabbed her, pulling her away from the pillow. She gasped for air, her lungs burning.
When her vision cleared, she saw her father holding the pillow at arm's length, a look of horror on his face. Her mother was beside her, checking her for injuries.
"I'm so sorry we didn't believe you," her mother whispered, tears in her eyes.
Mia's father carried the pillow downstairs, Mia and her mother following close behind. In the backyard, he threw it into the fire pit and doused it with lighter fluid.
As the flames engulfed the pillow, Mia could have sworn she heard a high-pitched scream. The pillow writhed in the fire, twisting into impossible shapes before finally collapsing into ash.
That night, Mia slept in her parents' room, too scared to return to her own bed. In the morning, her father promised to take her shopping for a new, non-possessed pillow.
As they drove to the store, Mia felt a weight lift from her shoulders. It was over. The evil pillow was gone, reduced to nothing but a bad memory.
But when they returned home that afternoon, Mia's mother was waiting for them in the driveway, her face pale.
"You won't believe what I found when I was cleaning Mia's room," she said, her voice shaking.
Mia's stomach dropped. "What is it, Mom?"
Her mother held up a small, singed scrap of fabric - all that remained of the pillow. "It was under your bed," she explained. "I thought we should keep it, as a reminder."
Mia nodded, reaching out to take the scrap. As her fingers touched the fabric, a jolt of electricity shot through her arm. For a split second, she saw a vision of her room filled with pillows - hundreds of them, all pulsing with life.
She blinked, and the vision was gone. But as she looked down at the scrap in her hand, she could have sworn she saw it twitch.
Mia smiled, running her thumb over the fabric. "You're right, Mom," she said, her voice eerily calm. "We should keep it. After all, every good pillow needs a friend."
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