The comforting glow of the kitchen lights seemed to dim, unable to chase away the growing shadow of disappointment.
Rebecca and Lesley had scoured every corner of their five-room house – under beds, inside closets, even behind the curtains – but the results were grim. Sylvester, Lesley's beloved teddy bear, was nowhere to be found.
Rebecca sighed, her fingers lightly kneading Lesley's shoulder. A thought suddenly surfaced. She remembered Lesley playing outside that morning, setting up a make-believe picnic with Sylvester while Rebecca hung laundry. "We've looked everywhere inside, sweetie," she said softly, "but he's not here. Do you remember playing with him outside earlier?"
Lesley's small face crumpled into a frown. She looked up at her mother, her voice dropping to a low, hesitant murmur. "But… it's scary out there, Mommy. What if there are big shadows?"
Rebecca's heart warmed at her daughter's lack of courage, a familiar shyness that was endearing. She gently cupped Lesley's chubby little cheeks in her hands. After a few seconds of affectionately squeezing them, she said, her voice full of warmth, "I understand, sweetie. It can be a little spooky at night, but I'll be right by your side. We'll be quick, I promise."
Lesley fidgeted nervously, her gaze fixed on the darkened window. "But what if something jumps out at us? I just want Mr. Teddy!"
"I promise to keep you safe," Rebecca reassured her, her thumbs softly stroking Lesley's cheeks. "Let's just take a quick look, okay? We can call for Mr. Teddy together."
Lesley hesitated, then slowly nodded, adding in a small voice, "Can we turn on a flashlight first?"
Rebecca smiled, cupping her daughter's cheeks once more. "Of course, we will. We'll shine it around and make sure everything is okay. You're really brave, you know that?"
Lesley grumbled cutely, trying to pull away from her mother's affectionate assault. "Mommyyyyyy! Ma cheeksh won't stwop growing if you kweep doing that! And Sylvester won't like being left alone for too lwong!" She sounded like a mad kitten trying to act tough, only to be met with more adoring affection.
Rebecca, feigning sadness at her daughter's words, finally let go of her soft, chubby cheeks.
"Okay, okay," Rebecca said with a chuckle, taking a deep breath. "Let's go! But you have to hold my hand."
"Deal!" Lesley chirped, rubbing her reddened cheeks. "Let's find Mr. Teddy and bring him home!"
As Rebecca reached for the doorknob, the little girl clutched her mother's dress tightly, her heart racing with a mix of curiosity and fear. The warm, inviting glow of the house lights contrasted sharply with the inky black outline of the forest beyond.
Then, as if struck by a sudden chill, Lesley chickened out. "Mommy, can I just stay inside?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rebecca paused, turning to kneel down to her daughter's level. "I promise I won't be long," she reassured her, her voice soft and steady. "Just a quick look. You know nothing will happen to you."
The little girl nodded slowly, though doubt flickered in her wide eyes. The forest had always seemed alive with whispers and rustles, especially at night.
Taking a deep breath, Rebecca opened the door, the hinges creaking softly like a warning. "I'll be right back," she said, stepping outside. Her gaze remained fixed on Lesley, a silent promise in her eyes. In her haste, she'd forgotten the flashlight. No matter, she thought, peering into the vague shapes of the yard. She had a rough idea of where Lesley had been playing. It would be a quick job.
Lesley stood near the open door, watching her mother disappear into the vast darkness that surrounded their home. Rebecca's silhouette faded until it was swallowed by the night. Lesley strained her ears, listening for any sounds—a rustle of leaves, or perhaps the hoot of an owl. Everything felt magnified in the stillness, and the night crept in, cold and deep.
"Mommy…" Lesley murmured to herself, glancing back at the dimly lit house before focusing again on the outside world. Time seemed to stretch, and with each passing second, her anxiety grew.
Suddenly, a loud snap echoed from the direction of the forest, startling her. "Mommy!" she called, her voice filled with mounting urgency. The shadows felt deeper now, more menacing, and the little girl took a cautious step toward the door, unsure whether to go outside or wait.
Before she could make a move, her mother appeared. But she stood a bit farther from the light spilling out of the door than Lesley expected. "Sweetheart, I found Sylvester," Rebecca's voice called out, a little strained, yet still her mother's voice. "Come closer and take him. Mommy hurt her leg, so she doesn't want you to see."
The night was thick with an unsettling quiet as Lesley rushed out, the glow from the house light flickering like a rapid heartbeat. "Mommy?" Her voice trembled slightly, caught between excitement and uncertainty. It was late, and she could feel the chill of the evening creeping in, but the warmth of her mother's presence had always chased away all her fear.
As she approached, she noticed something off. Her mother seemed taller—too tall. A knot twisted in her stomach, and she abruptly stopped. Mommy was always tall, though, she thought, trying to reassure herself and since she said I'm still growing, she'll seem taller, Hehe. The girl convinced herself, pushing such negative thoughts to the back of her head, and moved towards her mother, not quickly, but at a slower, almost hesitant pace.
Her body did this subconsciously, as if what she saw was still being processed while she thought she had thoroughly thrown her doubts away.
The closer she got, the slower she became, until she stood at the edge of the light, three feet away from her mother. You know, the mind tends to filter out some information when one experiences a lot of happiness or any other strong emotions.
But there's always that nagging feeling that pulls you out of your 'level 10' state and slowly brings you down to a 'level 5,' and all that little filtered information slowly floods back.
That's what Lesley felt at that moment. She suddenly noticed her mother had red pupils. And she was suspiciously taller than usual. And her face... it couldn't be discerned properly, but Lesley could tell the thing in front of her had no hair, no mouth, no ears, no nose. Just eyes. No... not eyes. Those red pupils. No... no... no. Lesley took a step back, and the thing took a step closer.
She couldn't deny it now. No, that wasn't it. She felt it throughout her whole being. Something was wrong. Very wrong. That was when she noticed she was trembling. No... no... That was all she could think.
Two glowing red pupils fixed on her, piercing through the night with an intensity that froze her in place. The breathing was rough and labored, echoing in the stillness around her, like the desperate sound of an animal that had just sprinted for its life. Panic surged through her veins, a cold, undeniable wave. This wasn't her mother.
"Mommy?" She tried again, but the name felt heavy on her tongue, a word that suddenly seemed foreign. The figure stood motionless, shrouded in darkness, but she could sense the powerful presence looming before her, something primal and predatory.
A low growl rumbled from deep within the thing, and Lesley instinctively took another step back, her heart pounding violently in her chest. The elongated silhouette began to contort, twisting and warping, revealing something... The creature took a step closer as it bent forward, its face revealing itself in the light. The red pupils were gone, replaced by two dark, gaping holes.
Every ounce of her sanity drained away, replaced by sheer, agonizing terror as the realization settled in—this was no game, no cheap joke. This thing... this...
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"