It all began when someone left the window open.
First it was the birds.
Evan pulled the covers over his head, enveloping himself in darkness. He shut his eyes and tried not to scream, the birds were out again. Small, snow-white birds the size of saucers flew about outside the safety of his blanket. Evan shut his eyes even tighter and he covered his ears, he didn’t want to hear anymore flapping of their ivory wings.
“They aren’t real, they aren’t real, they aren’t real…” Evan chanted to himself, trying not to choke on his own words. He knew they couldn’t be real. They couldn’t be! It just wasn’t possible. So why was he so scared? So frightened? So terrified?
Rationality told him to stay calm and try to fall back asleep but fear controlled the little boy. The chaotic fusion made him throw the covers off of him and scream, “I’M NOT SCARED OF YOU!”
And he was met with nothing.
It happened again, the vines were curling.
Evan had once again hid himself under the covers of the bed, whimpering. He felt the silvery-gray vines twist and caress the fabric that was protecting him. Evan bit his lip and peeked through his eyelashes.
He almost missed the time when it was the birds that terrorized him.
The bright blue nightlight he had insisted on having now outlined the silver vines. He could see them grow in number, weaving into a hellish cover. His eyes widened as he realized that the eerie blue light was diminishing as the vines started to block his vision. Soon he would be blind. Blind and doomed.
Evan squirmed, feeling more claustrophobic now than ever in his life. He curled up into a ball, mumbling to himself as bitter tears fell from his eyes.
“They aren’t real, they aren’t real, they AREN’T REAL!” the little boy started screaming, the ever-so-slow but ever-so-terrifying vines driving him to near-insanity. He threw off the covers and screamed, “YOU AREN’T REAL!”
And the silvery vines were back on the wall with their avian companions.
It happened again, the thing was mocking him.
Evan had his head resting on the pillow while the covers lay comfortably at his shoulders. He wouldn’t be scared this time, he couldn’t be. The woman in front of him wasn’t his mother, just the thing under his bed trying to fool him.
“Honey, you need to go to sleep. How about I read you a story?”
Evan shook his head. “Mommy never gave me a nickname, you aren’t my mommy.”
The woman frowned. To Evan, his mommy was beautiful even when she frowned, the woman in front of him, was nothing but ugly with such a forced expression. The young and healthy skin started to darken and his mother’s imposter took a step closer. “Evan, don’t you want to go to sleep?”
The forced calm in her voice made Evan feel the fear he was trying so hard to suppress. The step forward made him realize how dangerous a situation he was in. Once more Evan hid under his covers. “You aren’t my mommy…” he said more feebly.
A wicked grin grew on the imposter’s gray lips. She walked nearer, placing a now wrinkled and gnarled hand on the lump that was Evan’s shoulder. Evan started to whimper and chant quietly, “You aren’t my mommy…you aren’t my mommy…you aren’t my mommy…”
That evil grin turned to a smirk as the gnarled hand caressed his shoulder through the cover. “Oh, Honey, you–”
“YOU AREN’T MY MOMMY!”
Evan flung himself up and at the imposter, chest heaving and sweat dripping from his forehead. This was his room, his alone! No birds or vines or imposters allowed!
The cool air settled on his skin as he realized that he was all alone in the darkness.
Credited to Regicidal Rex