The Midnight Hour & Other Scary Stories

Algernon

Timothy was overjoyed the day his father brought home the radio. It was a handsome machine and more than a little exciting. His father put the radio right in the living room so Timothy and the rest of the family could hear. They would spend whole evenings sitting around and listening to the broadcasts that would come over its speakers. It was all very magical for such a young boy.

However, as far as Timothy was concerned, there was something even more magical about the radio; something that only happened once the rest of his family had gone to bed. On those very dark nights, when the moon had gone into hiding behind thick clouds, Timothy would sneak out of bed and plant himself in front of the radio. After fiddling with the dials, he would come to a station that was very different from the others. This station wasn't for news or stories. It could talk to Timothy, as though it were a real person, standing in the room with him.

The voice on the other end, which sounded an awful lot like one of the radio announcers for the big Leagues, said its name was 'Algernon'.

"Why are you in the radio?" Timothy asked. "Did someone lock you up in there?"

"No, no. Nothing like that." Algernon said, causing the radio's lights to flicker. "I like it in here. It's really quite spacious."

"Really?" Timothy asked. "It looks small."

Algernon chuckled. "Oh, it's much bigger on the inside. Believe me. Say, kiddo, do you want to hear a story? I promise it's a doozy!"

"Sure!" Timothy said.

And so he would listen to Algernon tell him stories. These weren't like the bedtime tales his mother read to him. These stories were scary and a lot of them were sad. Despite that, Timothy would stay up well into the night to listen. This happened night after night and Timothy would wake up feeling very tired.

When his mother and father asked him why he seemed so sleepy all the time, he would just say that he had nightmares, which was true. Algernon's stories played over and over in his head. Once or twice, he could have sworn that something moved in his room as he tried to fall asleep. Yet, every night like clockwork, he couldn't help but go back and listen to his newfound friend.

"Don't worry, kiddo!" Algernon would say. "As long as I'm here, I'll keep the monsters at bay. After all, what are friends for?"

Then, one night, when Timothy went to listen, he turned on the small lamp in the living room. He saw a shadow on the floor next to him. It belonged to someone who was sitting, only he couldn't see them.

"Wh-who's there?" He would ask the shadow.

They wouldn't respond. When he asked Algernon who it was, his friend would just say, "Oh don't mind them. I invited some company over. I hope it's not a bother."

Timothy did mind. In fact, there was something about that shadow he didn't like. Now, when Algernon told his stories, a chill hung in the air. Timothy swore he could hear something moving around in the house at night. He was scared to go to bed so he spent even longer listening to Algernon's stories. Each and every night, more shadows began to join him. They filled the chairs, the floor, the couch... What's worse, he could hear them; a soft breathing sound that soaked into the very floorboards. Timothy could hear the shadows everywhere he went now. Finally, he'd had enough.

"I'm scared, Algernon." He said. "Who are all of these people?"

"Don't be scared, Kiddo," Algernon said. "They're just family. My family."

Timothy stood. "Why are they here?"

"Why else?" Algernon chuckled. "They came to hear a story."

But Timothy was done. He stood and walked over to the radio's power cord.

"What are you doin', kiddo?" Algernon asked.

"I'm done with the scary stories," Timothy said. "I don't want to hear them anymore."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Algernon's voice held an edge. "Once you let something scary in, it doesn't just leave. It's not that simple. Who's going to protect you from the monsters now that they're here?"

But Timothy didn't listen. "Monsters aren't real." He said.

He pulled the plug, and the radio fell silent. He expected the shadows to leave, only they didn't. The chill in the air became an ice-cold bite. Something brushed by his arm. Timothy spun around but nothing was there. He heard crying. A hand touched his arm.

"Don't leave us in the dark." A voice floated in his ear.

"They like the dark." Came another.

He ran for the door.

No sooner had Timothy opened it, than he heard a long deep growl come from the dark hallway beyond. Whatever it belonged to shuffled toward the light, as though every movement was painful and awkward. It came closer to him.

Something closed the door shut.

The shadow of a small hand pressed against the wood.

"Listen." A voice hovered by his ear. "Or they will find us."

The radio crackled to life. Timothy slowly turned to see that the cord was still unplugged. Algernon's voice echoed from the box.

"They're right, Kiddo." He said. "So why don't you have a seat and listen? We've got all night after all."

So Timothy did just that. Night after night after night. If he didn't, the thing in the dark would follow him everywhere he went. He couldn't escape it. Before he realized what was happening, Timothy could see through his arms and legs until he was gone, nothing more than a shadow.