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Parker Bannon was four-years-old when he had the first dream. In the dream he was laying in bed staring at the sleeve of one of his jackets that hung from the rack on the wall next to it. It was a letter jacket his mother had bought him a year ago. It was partially hidden by the other coats that shared the rack and only one sleeve was visible to him. As Parker watched, the sleeve began to move up and down like a plunger, laughing in a loud and sinister manner. “Hoo hoo hoo,” the sleeve laughed, the deep raucous voice issuing from the cuff, which moved like a mouth. The sound was loud and hideous. Parker had never before heard a sound like this, and it frightened him to his very soul. Parker jerked awake, and began to cry for his mother. Looking to his right he saw the jacket hanging innocently upon the rack, completely stationary.
Parker’s mother entered the room, and rushed to her son’s bed. “What is it, baby?” she asked urgently. Parker recounted the dream for her. His mother scooped him into her arms and held him tight. “It was only a dream, pumpkin,” she said softly. She snuggled next to Parker for the remainder of the night. He eventually fell asleep again, and his sleep was deep and dreamless.
Several months had passed without further dreams involving the coat. And then, on the night following his fifth birthday, his sleep was once again plagued with dreams of the coat rack. Only this time, it was his heavy flannel winter coat that moved and made the noises. It was swinging its sleeves back and forth, a mad cackling emanating from the collar. Parker screamed and then woke up drenched in cold sweat. He was facing the coat rack, where the large flannel winter coat hung motionless. Parker did not call out to his mother this time, but instead rolled over onto his left side, away from the coats. After about half an hour, he fell back into a fitful sleep.
Parker had worn the letter jacket several times after the first dream. His mother had assured him the dream was just that: a dream. So Parker took it as such, and continued to wear the letter jacket. But after his most recent dream, he was very reluctant to don the flannel winter coat. Unfortunately, it was the dead of winter, and his mother insisted he wear the coat to school. After much crying and protest, he found himself on the bus, wearing the flannel coat. The bus ride passed without incident, and the coat behaved like a normal coat should.
Three nights later, Parker dreamed of the coats once again. This time, it was his Adidas hoodie that was exhibiting peculiar behavior. It was rippling rapidly and laughing in a wheezy voice. “Hee hee hee,” said the hoodie, and reached over and smacked the boy hard across the face. Parker woke once again. Never before had the coats assaulted him in his dreams… He sat bolt upright and turned to gaze at the hoodie. He could have sworn he saw the right sleeve twitch. But perhaps he just imagined it. As the shock of the dream began to wear off, his face began to sting, as though he had really been slapped. It was early dawn, and weak sunlight was flooding the room. He did not fall asleep again, but stared fixedly at the rack of coats. None of them did so much as flutter. An hour later he got up, got dressed, and prepared himself for school.
The very next night, Parker had the worst dream of them all, because when he awoke, he discovered the dream had been reality. The dream featured the letter jacket once again. It had fallen from the rack of its own volition, and slithered on the floor toward the boy’s bed. It reached up with its sleeves and hoisted itself onto the bed. The jacket lay across Parker’s chest. Then it sat up, angled its cuffs toward the boy’s face, and the cuffs began to snap at him. And then, from both cuffs came that freaky laughter. “HOO HOO HOO!” it roared, and began slapping his face until it smarted and stung. He jerked awake, his face burning. He made to push the blankets off him, only to find himself holding the letter jacket. He screamed and flung it at the opposite wall. His mother rushed into the room.
“Parker, whatever are you doing?” she cried.
“I had a nightmare, mommy,” he murmured.
Parker had the impression that his mother wouldn’t believe him if he told her he had awoken to find one of his jackets laying across him of its own accord. He opted not to tell her what really happened. After his mother calmed him down, she kissed him goodnight and left the room. Once again, Parker did not sleep the rest of the night.
A week had gone by. Parker was awakened one night to discover that his arms were spread, and he was unable to move them. He looked to his left. The letter jacket was holding fast to his wrist. “HOO HOO HOO!” it laughed. To his right, the Adidas hoodie held his other hand.
“HEE HEE HEE!” it laughed.
The coats pulled each hand back and used themselves to tie him to the bedposts. Parker began to panic.“MOMMY!” he wailed. Before he could utter another word, however, the flannel coat slithered onto his chest, and began to wrap itself around his throat. The mad cackling issued from the collar once again as the boy coughed and spluttered, trying to draw breath. The coat became so tight that Parker could not even cough. He couldn’t breathe. Lights were beginning to pop before his eyes. His legs became rigid and began to twitch. He was slipping into darkness. The last thing Parker heard before losing consciousness was the roaring laughter of the coats.
Parker’s mother went into his bedroom the next morning to wake him up for school. Having not heard his cry for help the previous night, or the laughter of the coats, she had no idea what she was about to discover. She was therefore shocked to find her son dead with his arms held out with purple lesions on his neck and wrists. His eyes were rolled up into his head, the whites now a dark crimson. “Parker?” she said shakily, slowly approaching her son’s lifeless form. “Parker?” No response. Then the cold horror of what she was seeing washed over her finally. Her baby was dead. “PARKER!” She laid her head across the boy’s chest and sobbed hysterically. She would never know what happened. And next to her hung the coats: limp, innocent, and inanimate.
Written by DarthWeezer1994