Dan’s House – Late Night
The silence of the house was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock in the living room. Dan woke up with a jolt, his body drenched in sweat, his breath shallow and panicked. His nightmare still clung to him, the images of the red-eyed figure, the train yard, and the screams of the girls lingering in his mind. He could still feel the cold chill of dread on his skin, as if it had followed him back from the dream world. His heart raced in his chest, pounding against his ribs, and his hands trembled as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
The darkness of the room felt heavy, oppressive, but the familiar surroundings—the posters on his wall, the cluttered desk—did nothing to soothe him. He tried to steady his breathing, but the unease wouldn’t leave. He needed something to calm his nerves.
Thirst.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool wooden floor pressing against his bare feet as he stood up. The house was quiet, almost too quiet. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table: 3:23 AM. Too early to call anyone, but late enough that everything felt off, as if the night itself had taken on a sinister air.
He moved slowly down the hall, the quiet creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet seeming louder than usual. The kitchen light wasn’t on, but the house felt colder than it should be for such a warm night. Dan opened the kitchen door quietly, not wanting to wake his mother, who usually went to bed early.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he froze.
There, in the corner of the room, bathed in the pale blue glow of the laptop screen, sat his mother.
His first instinct was confusion. His mother was hunched over the kitchen table, her brow furrowed in concentration, the light from the laptop illuminating her face. Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, typing something, her eyes darting back and forth across the screen. The glow from the laptop illuminated her face in a way that made it seem… off. The shadows beneath her eyes were deeper than usual, her skin unnaturally pale. And her expression—cold, focused, intent—was unlike anything Dan had ever seen.
It was as if this woman wasn’t his mother at all.
Dan’s mouth went dry. He stood there for a moment, completely still, trying to process what he was seeing. This was his mother—the same woman who never even used a smartphone, who preferred paper to emails, who had always been slightly bewildered by the world of modern technology. Yet here she was, using a laptop like an expert, her eyes moving rapidly across the screen, the intensity of her focus making her look like a completely different person.
Dan blinked. Was he still dreaming? Had his nightmare somehow bled into reality? He rubbed his eyes and stepped forward slowly, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
“Mom?” he called, his voice hesitant, unsure if he was speaking to the woman he knew. The question felt strange even to him, like it wasn’t his voice.
His mother didn’t react at first. Her fingers paused on the keyboard, but she didn’t look up. For a moment, she sat motionless. Then, she exhaled deeply, a slow, deliberate sigh, as if she’d heard him but didn’t really care to acknowledge it. Finally, her eyes flickered toward him, her gaze sharp and calculating.
“Yes?” Her voice wasn’t warm, wasn’t the soft, comforting tone he was used to. It was flat, almost… detached.
Dan’s stomach tightened, unease crawling up his spine. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. There was something about her eyes—something dark, something unfamiliar. For a split second, they didn’t look like his mother’s eyes at all. They looked... strange. Too cold. Too unblinking.
“W-What are you doing up?” Dan stammered, taking a step back, his hand gripping the doorframe for support.
His mother’s lips twitched into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She pushed the laptop aside and looked at him for a long moment, studying him with an intensity that made him feel exposed, as if she could see right through him.
“I’m working,” she said, her voice calm and deliberate. “There’s a lot of work to be done. I don’t have time to sleep.”
Dan frowned. “Work?” He could hardly believe his own voice. “What do you mean? You never… you’ve never been—”
His mother’s smile deepened, but it wasn’t reassuring. It felt… unsettling. She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and walked toward him with measured, deliberate steps. The way she moved was too fluid, too precise. It wasn’t like her at all.
“I’m working on something important, Dan,” she said, her voice now low, almost a whisper. “Something that you wouldn’t understand. But you will. Soon.”
Dan’s heart slammed against his ribs. He stepped backward, his hands trembling. “What are you talking about? What’s going on, Mom?”
For a moment, she didn’t answer. She just stood there, her eyes locked on his with an unnerving stillness, as if she were calculating something, like she was sizing him up, considering whether or not he was worthy of the answer. Then, in a voice so cold it sent a chill down his spine, she finally spoke.
“You’ll see, Dan. You’ll see everything soon.”
Her words hung in the air, like a promise, a threat, and for some reason, Dan felt the creeping sensation that he was being drawn into something far darker than he could understand. His throat tightened as his mother’s cold smile lingered in his mind.
“Mom…” Dan whispered, fear creeping into his voice. “What’s happening? You’re scaring me.”
But his mother didn’t respond. Instead, she turned, picked up the laptop again, and resumed typing, her fingers moving with an eerie fluidity. The cold, calculating expression was back on her face.
Dan’s pulse raced. He didn’t know what to do—whether to run or to stay and try to understand. He took a step back, the door to the kitchen now feeling like an escape, but before he could turn around, he glanced at the screen of the laptop.
His blood ran cold. The page on the laptop wasn’t a document, or a photo. It was a map.
A map of the city, but the locations marked were far too familiar. Dan’s stomach churned as he recognized the spots marked in red—the train yard, the homes of the missing girls, and now, one more mark: his house.
The room felt like it was spinning. His heart thudded loudly in his chest as the dread clawed at him. This was no longer just a nightmare. This was real. His mother—this woman—was connected to the darkness that had been creeping closer and closer to him.
Without a word, Dan bolted from the kitchen, his breath ragged as he raced up the stairs and locked himself in his room. He collapsed onto the bed, his mind reeling. What was going on? Who was that woman downstairs?
The nightmare was real. And it was only just beginning.
* * *
