The Lullaby
- Reads 8
- Votes 3
- Parts 2
A new mother hears an unfamiliar lullaby coming from the baby monitor. At first, she thinks it's interference, but the melody becomes clearer, and she hears a soft voice singing her baby's name. She rushes to the nursery only to find the crib empty, the window wide open, and the monitor whispering, "Mine now."
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I stand by her bed. Watching her as sweat trickle a down her forehead and disappears in her hair, as she clutches the sheets to save herself from the monster she so desperately wants to get rid of. I watch her as she clings on to every string of hope that anytime, anytime her mother will come and save her from him. From me. _ Hello ladies and gentlemen! I am new to this and I will try my best to make this interesting and a story that is worth your time. And also please forgive me if I make some grammatical mistakes because English is not my first language and I am still learning. so if there is any mistake please correct me politely. THANK YOU FOR READING THIS MEANS ALOT TO ME!🤗🤗🤗Complete
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What Watches Back || ONC 2025
The boy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a little too close, his tiny hands pressed against the cold surface. He smiled at his reflection, though it didn't smile back right away. He was used to this. It was always like that-he would smile, and then the reflection would follow, eventually. "Hi, there," the boy whispered, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet house. From the kitchen, the sound of pots clanging echoed, and his mother's humming filled the space. He could hear the rhythm of the spatula stirring in the pan, the sizzling of whatever she was cooking. His father, still seated at the dining table, rustled the newspaper, absorbed in the evening's headlines. "Mom, look, it's me," the boy called out, his eyes never leaving the mirror. He waited for her usual response-a glance over her shoulder, a quick nod of acknowledgment. But she didn't answer. She just hummed. The boy tilted his head, eyes narrowing. There was something about his reflection now that felt different, too still, too patient. "Hello?" His voice trembled slightly. "Why don't you say something?" In the reflection, his own lips parted in silent mockery. But this time, he swore it wasn't him. The boy swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. His reflection didn't mirror his every movement anymore. It was slightly delayed, like it was watching him instead. A whisper seemed to curl in the air around him, soft but distinct. "You're not alone here." His heart thudded. The voice, distant but clear, came from the mirror. "Who's there?" the boy asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His father grunted from the other room, and the boy glanced toward the dining table. His father was engrossed in his newspaper. The boy turned back to the mirror. The reflection was still staring, but now, something more than just the image of himself looked back. "Don't you want to play?" the reflection asked, its smile curling wider, unnaturally wide.Complete
Watching
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