If You Ever Hear Your Child Talk About ‘The Bloody Monsters’ Be Very, Very Afraid

Mandy took a little longer to answer. She quivered. Appeared on the verge of tears. I took some time to take in the setting again. Out the window behind both of our little bodies, I could see it was night. Yet, I had no memory of ever being at Barbara’s daycare at night.

“Mandy,” the word barely dribbled out of my sister’s pursed lips.

I heard a woman’s voice mutter something I couldn’t make out off the camera and then the room went dark. I could now just barely see the outlines of my sister and myself in the almost complete blackness.

The sounds of myself and my sister beginning to cry filled the darkness for a few seconds before being drowned out by the sound of a quick shake of the entire room. It sounded like someone had thrown down a basketball on the floor as hard as they could and then caught it on its way back up. Then again. The crying sounds got louder.

“There it is,” the woman’s voice off-camera got a little louder and I was able to identify it as belonging to Barbara.

“Please. No,” my sister cried out.

One more thud sound reverberated through the room followed by a few seconds of silence and then a horrible screeching sound of a siren rang out.

The screeching siren went for a few seconds and then came to an abrupt stop. The lights flicked on and Mandy and I stood in our same spots, panting and trying to catch our breath.

The thud sound returned. This time, the thud sent my sister and I flying into opposite corners of the room. We each hit the fake wood wall hard and crashed down to the ground.

I cringed as I watched all this play out on the TV.

“Stop. We gotta stop,” Barbara’s voice yelled out from off-camera.

About the author

Jack Follman

Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website.

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