The Forgotten Child

Chapter 3: Increasing Paranormal Activity

October 5th

It's unsettling how quickly something wrong can start to feel normal. You tell yourself you're just tired, that your mind is playing tricks on you. You convince yourself that it's nothing until it becomes everything.

The creaking, the shadows, the whispers—they're all part of our home now. Even the kids are feeling it. Sam hasn't said much, but he keeps asking to sleep with the hallway light on. Emily, on the other hand, seems... different. Less like my daughter, more like a stranger sometimes.

But it's not just the kids. I see it in Jessica too. She hides it well, like she's trying to stay grounded, but the tension is there. I can feel it in the way she grips her coffee cup, in the way her eyes flit around the room, as if she expects something—or someone—to step out of the shadows.

This morning, before the sun rose, the house was draped in that strange gray light. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, like the entire place was holding its breath. That's when it started again—the soft, rhythmic tapping. I thought it was coming from the window at first, something brushing against the glass. But no.

It was coming from inside.

I stood in the kitchen, frozen in place, listening as the sound echoed through the house. It wasn't loud, but it was deliberate. Every few seconds—tap, tap, tap. I felt the hair on my arms stand on end as I tried to pinpoint the source.

It was coming from the living room.

I hesitated at the threshold, the doorway a barrier between me and whatever waited on the other side. The sound stopped the moment I stepped inside. The room was cloaked in shadows, deeper than they should have been, given the soft morning light creeping through the curtains.

The air felt different—wrong.

I could feel something there, watching me from the shadows, but every time I turned to look, there was nothing. Just the thick, heavy darkness clinging to the corners of the room, like it had no intention of leaving.

I took a step forward, scanning the room, and that's when I heard it again—tap, tap, tap—but this time it was behind me.

I whipped around, my heart slamming against my ribs, but again—nothing.

It was enough to shake me. I'm not the type to jump at shadows, but this wasn't just nerves. The air felt charged with something unseen, something lurking just out of sight, waiting.

I backed out of the room, never turning my back, and retreated to the kitchen. By the time Jessica came downstairs, I was already gripping my coffee mug like it was the only thing tethering me to reality.

"You okay?" she asked. I nodded, but my mind was somewhere else. I still felt like the house was watching me.

By midday, the tension in the house felt suffocating. Every little noise made my heart jump. A tap from the pipes, the hum of the refrigerator, even the ticking of the clock felt like it was mocking me, reminding me that time was running out. I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was coming.

Emily was drawing again. That, in itself, wasn't strange—she's always loved to draw. But the drawings themselves... those were becoming more disturbing by the day. The crayon strokes were harsh and frantic. Dark figures and shadows covered the pages. And then, there was her—the woman Emily kept calling "the lady."

The latest drawing was the worst yet.

It showed the woman standing next to a stroller, but this time, Emily was standing beside her, holding her hand. My stomach twisted when I saw it. I crouched down beside her and tried to keep my voice steady.