The Monitor

My son is three years old.

For the past month, he has refused to sleep unless the closet light stays on.

Every time I asked why, he gave the same answer.

“The tall man doesn’t like the dark.”

I assumed it was an imaginary friend.

Kids say creepy things all the time.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

The Voice

A week ago, I started hearing noises through the baby monitor after midnight.

Not static.

Not interference.

Breathing.

Slow and wet, like someone standing too close to the microphone.

Then came the whispering.

At first I could not make out the words.

Until one night I heard it clearly.

“He can see me.”

I ran upstairs immediately.

My son was asleep.

The room was empty.

But the closet door was open.

The Drawings

The next morning, I found a drawing under my son’s bed.

It showed our house in black crayon.

There was a tall figure standing upstairs beside his room.

Its head touched the ceiling.

Its arms stretched all the way down the hallway.

I asked him who drew it.

He looked confused.

“The tall man did.”

The Footsteps

Last night, the monitor turned on by itself around 3 AM.

I heard my son giggling.

Then another laugh answered him.

A deep adult laugh.

I froze.

The footsteps started immediately after.

Heavy.

Slow.

Directly above my bedroom ceiling.

But my son’s room is upstairs.

There should not have been another floor above us.

The Closet

I grabbed a flashlight and ran to his room.

The hallway felt colder with every step.

When I opened the door, my son was sitting upright in bed staring into the closet.

The closet light was off.

I know I left it on.

He pointed into the darkness.

Then whispered:

“Dad, he says you were not supposed to hear him.”

Something moved inside the closet.

Not fast.

Slowly.

Like it had been standing there the entire time and only just realized I could see it too.