The Unalive Lurking in Shadows

My son has just turned two. He gets smarter each day, saying small sentences and asking questions. However, there is one small problem that nags at my conscience and that is the simple fact that he won't look me in the eyes very often. He likes to stare off into space, or look in the distance just to the right or left of me. I wonder what he's thinking about when he stares out into the nothingness.

He's very afraid of the dark and of shadows I've noticed lately. I've seen him jerk his hand back sharply from a shadowed area under our desk or behind the curtains that hang alongside the TV stand. Sometimes he's been frightened enough to whimper a little as he runs to me for comforting.

There have even been some moments when I've thought I overheard some voices on his baby monitor, but upon checking I can't find anything amiss. Other times I've heard a commotion only to run in and find him fussing but still tired enough to lie in his crib despite whatever it was that woke him. Recently this situation worsened. I was working away, writing a research paper when I heard some strange hissing sounds coming from the monitor. It was perched in the usual spot on my desk and nothing near me could have been the cause of interference. I then heard a knocking and my son started screaming at high alert. I turned off the monitor and ran in to him quickly. I couldn't see anything wrong at first, but my baby was terribly frightened. He danced a little jig in anticipation of my cuddles and held on to me tight nearly scratching my shoulder with his little fingernails trying to burrow in against me.

I sat in my rocking chair and held him close. I told him it was ok over and over again and then I heard him shudder and cry. I noticed that the shadow near my closet door seemed to dance on the wall for a few seconds. Logically, I tried to analyze the catalyst of this sight, but could not find a sensible reason. I ignored the cool prickle that danced along my conscience and continued on as if nothing had happened.

Later after Josh had calmed down, I sat him on my lap to talk to him about what scared him. His answer left me speechless, "You saw Mommy." I wondered if he meant the shadow play from earlier. Surely this was but a harmless and natural thing though.

Josh looked up at me grasping my cheek in his little hand, "Sometimes funny." He sighed and frowned next, "Not nice." I hugged him now and tried my best to comfort him. "Honey, it's just your imagination, gone and run away again."

"No!" he nearly yelled. "Not nice. Not imagine." Then he pointed to the closest wall to our right, "See Mama. See that!"

I could hardly believe what I saw, for this wall rarely held shadows at all in the afternoon. My big lamp had nearly saturated the surface with light, yet there was a stark, thin shadow figure streaming through the middle and most brightly lit part of the wall. Looking around, I was unable to find the cause of such a sight, yet again. Josh started crying now and pointed again and again.

It was thin and jagged with claw-like hands and pointy horns atop its head. It began to move at a creeping pace. At first, we mostly saw its profile, but when it noticed our attention, it turned to glance back at us and we saw the whole of its face. The creature appeared to be made of nothing but shadows and had empty holes of absolute blackness where eyes, nose, and mouth should be. It hissed at us and I could not resist pulling my feet off the ottoman immediately to park them underneath my butt in the chair. I watched a wrinkle under the area rug, wriggle and jiggle from end to end. Just then, the power blew out. It was a hot day and our house was using too much energy.

Josh's grip on me got tighter, "Uh oh." Holding him snug against me I jumped up from the chair and headed to the cracked doorway. I felt an icy hiss slide across my neck as I dashed to the sun filled doorway. Turning as I stood with my son in safety, I looked back at my room bewildered to see shadow forms flickering around the darkest parts of the room. Immediately, I left with my son to reset our house's power.

Later, sitting in my kitchen talking recent events with my son and dog, I asked Josh, "What are they?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Is that what you see when you're really thinking hard?" I kissed him and pulled him closer. I'd left the monitor on and we experienced a symphony of hisses and various other interference warbles. Tensing at the latest garble from the monitor, he nodded his head yes while my heart broke.

We call them The Unalive. Made of shades of grey nothingness, these shadow creatures haunt the backgrounds of our happy home. Now, when I put my son to sleep, I make sure to give him a big flashlight and several light-up toys. I exchanged my basic monitor for a video and sound model and never go far from his room. I still don't know what they want with him and may never know.