31 Short Horror Stories for Halloween

Betts

I wish I had paid more attention to the imaginary friends my son made up. He was seven years old and it isn't uncommon for kids to have imaginary friends. He had several but Betts was the one he talked about the most. He loved Betts because she read him stories. He made her up when he turned six and that's when he no longer needed me to read to him.

I was sad to lose our together-time but my wife told me our son was growing up and this was normal. I wish I hadn't listened to her. He made up several more friends as he grew older but Betts was the only one who had a name. Betts was an old woman and her husband was an old man. My son was friends with both. They had a lot of children and they played with my son. The doctor said all this was normal in a child.

My son was a well-adjusted kid; he had friends at school and he was doing well in class. He liked to play outside and he enjoyed watching TV. I had no reason to worry. He kept his friends for years. When he turned nine, he insisted that Betts would cut the cake with him.

Nine is the age when things began to change in my son. He would no longer sleep in his room. He would climb into bed with his mom and me. He begged for stories again but wouldn't let me stop with just one, two, or even three. And then one day my wife called me, sounding extremely distressed. She was home sick and had gone into our son's room only to find the large meat cleaver from the kitchen stashed under his bed. We had been looking for it for a few months now.

She removed it and I went to talk to him that night. He told me it was to keep himself safe. He cried and begged us to give it back to him. He said Betts told him to keep it with him and that if he didn't, the Old Man would get him.

My wife and I were worried and made an appointment with a doctor the next day. We were getting ready to go to the doctor. My son was in the tub taking a bath and his mom stepped out for just a second to get him a fresh towel. When she came back, my son was dead. In a briefest of minutes, he had drowned in the half-filled tub.

I was beyond grief. I couldn't think. I functioned on auto-drive. The funeral was a haze and then my great aunt came to offer her condolences.

'Poor thing' she said, 'just like the first child Betts ever had'

That's when it hit me. Betts was my mom's pet name. Her real name was Betty. Everyone called my dad the Old Man. When I was nine, my father had tried to drown me in the bathtub.