After a traumatic event occurred at a friend's childhood sleepover, I quickly start to realize that whoever...or whatever was behind it all has come back to relive the past.
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I was invited to stay the night over my friend Jeremy's house when I was a little boy. I remember the anticipation I had building up inside me all day because he had just gotten the new Super Mario Bros and, though I knew there would be other kids there besides me, I would at least get one turn playing. We were not too big into television at my house and my parents were never the type to allow video games, so events like this were always something to look forwards to. Unfortunately, this would be the last I stayed over anyone else's house.
The night started off pretty normal. We sat around in his basement and watched a movie with his older brother Chris. Chris was a decent enough guy - he was fourteen at the time and we all thought he was pretty cool, even though he picked on Jeremy quite a bit. We ate a lot of junk food, Jeremy's mom made a big dinner for everyone, and, as the night came to a close, We grabbed the Super NES from the closet, plugged it in, and started on Mario. We each got a few turns and it was just as wonderful as I had hoped. Around 10pm, Jeremy's mom yelled down that it was time for us all to go to bed. We all yelled back "ok" in droning unison and turned off the game system.
Making my way to my designated sleeping bag, something felt kind of...off. I remember looking around the room and thinking that it was strange that Chris had decided to go back upstairs, even though he was allowed to stay up later and take the Nintendo to his room if he wanted. I shrugged it off and laid my head down for the evening.
Around 1 o'clock in the morning, I was awoken by a loud thud coming from across the room. I didn't bother pulling my head up from my sleeping bag, thinking that it was most likely just one of the boys getting up to use the bathroom or something. I closed my eyes, but within seconds the bump returned, this time closer to my bag.
"Jeremy?" I whispered, trying to keep a hushed tone. "Jeremy? Is that you?"
The thud came again, closer.
"Jeremy?" I called a little louder.
Thud.
"Jeremy?" I said at a regular volume, still not wanting to wake everyone up, but still to let whoever was awake know that I was up and they were bothering me.
Thud. Right next to me. Then again slightly farther away, over towards the closet. Again. Again. The closet door opened quietly, then shut.
"Jeremy stop!" I shouted at him, now waking everyone else in the room, Jeremy hitting the light switch by the stairs. When the bulb from the top of the staircase dimly lit the room, everyone was still in their sleeping bags, rubbing their eyes and wondering what was going on.
"What's wrong?" Jeremy asked me. "Why are you yelling?" He spoke through his balled fist that covered his yawn. "Do you need me to get my mom?"
Before I could answer his question, Jeremy's mother came running through the basement door, wrapping a robe around herself, wondering why we were all awake. I tried to explain to them that there was a loud thud next to my sleeping bag and that it was making noises all across the room, but they didn't want to hear it. Jeremy's mother said that it must have been my imagination, but I pleaded with her to check the room. She refused telling me that it was going to be alright. I mentioned that the closet door had opened and she said that she had better not find any of us boys going into the closet this late at night - that it was time for bed, not for playing.
