Make It Stop

The young child lie awake in fear. "Make it stop" he prayed. But it never stopped. The woman entered his room, her face twisted into a horrifying image of something other worldly. Her footsteps were heavy as she walked towards an old rocking chair that sat a few feet away from his bed. Every night for as long as he could remember, she visited him. She sat in the chair and began rocking in and out of the shadows. The air suddenly grew colder and the woman began cackling, causing the young boy to cry. "Why are you doing this?" he stammered. The woman grew quiet and drifted into the shadows. The boy sat up in his bed, sweating and searching through the dark, looking for any signs of movement. "Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird..." the woman sang in a raspy voice. "No," the boy whimpered "Don't do it. Please." The singing stopped and the boy pulled the covers over his head. Out of the darkness, her face appeared. She slowly floated across the room, the tips of her toes dragging along the floor. The boy's breathing grew heavy and he braced for what was to come. He felt his sheets slowly slide off of his body and the icy cold fingers run up his back. He urinated. "That's a bad little boy" the woman snarled. She began to claw his back with her sharp, dagger like nails. He winced as the scratching grew harder and harder. He fought to hold in his screams of agony. The more he resisted, the angrier the woman became. With every second that passed, the room filled with a darkness. It grew heavy and the boy felt overwhelming horror slide over him. Objects began to slide off of the shelf, caused by a low rumble. She clawed, harder and harder. The objects began to fly around the room, hitting the young child as he fought to keep still. Suddenly, the room grew quiet. Too quiet, completely absent of sound. He turned to see if the woman had left and instead, he saw her pitch black eyes meet his gaze. His eyes widened in terror as the woman began to scream. All sound came rushing back. The child screamed as the woman smiled, revealing rotting teeth and a putrid smell. He began heaving. The woman hit him on the back. Repeatedly. He couldn't take the pain and his vision grew blurry. He attempted to get away but he was too weak. He was always too weak. "This is it," he thought "I'm finished."

He awoke the next morning and saw blood on his sheets. He walked to his mirror and looked at his back, revealing his old scars had been torn open. His shirt had large, gaping holes in it. He took it off and threw it away. He attempted to clean his back the best that he could and then headed downstairs for breakfast. "Good morning," his mother said, smiling at the boy. He sat down and fixed his eyes on the table. She walked over and rubbed his back, causing him to yelp. She peered down the back of his shirt and gasped. "These nightmares have got to stop. I am calling the doctor." His eyes were bloodshot and glazed over. He looked up at her and saw her concern. "Funny," he thought "She doesn't look angry anymore."