4/15/2024
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Written By ghostwriter
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Please don’t let it into the baby’s room; that’s not our dog!
shouted the hysterical wife as a canine’s tail disappeared into the hallway behind her.
Honey, please calm down, soothed her husband, but at that moment, the playful barking that emanated from the nursery began to warp and twist into a hideous laugh.
The couple had moved into their quaint suburban home just a month before their baby arrived.
The house had an old-world charm, complete with creaky wooden floors and a white picket fence.
They thought it was the perfect place to start their family.
But as the weeks went by, strange occurrences began to unsettle them.
The dog, a friendly Labrador named Max, would often sit outside the nursery door, wagging his tail and barking playfully.
The couple found it endearing at first, thinking Max was simply excited about the new addition to the family.
Then came the night when the laughter started.
It was past midnight, and the baby had finally fallen asleep.
The couple lay in bed, exhausted but content.
That’s when they heard it—a soft, lilting laugh that seemed to come from the nursery.
The husband dismissed it as a trick of the wind or their tired minds playing tricks on them.
But the wife knew better.
Max is in the hallway, she whispered, her voice trembling.
I can hear him barking.
The husband frowned.
That’s impossible.
Max is right here next to us.
They both sat up, straining their ears.
The laughter grew louder and more sinister.
It was as if someone—or something—was mocking them.
The husband got out of bed and tiptoed to the nursery.
The door was slightly ajar, and the room was bathed in moonlight.
Max sat outside the nursery, his tail wagging, but his eyes were fixed on something inside.
The husband pushed the door open, and what he saw made his blood run cold.
The baby’s crib was empty.
Where’s our baby?
The wife cried, rushing into the room.
The laughter intensified, echoing off the walls.
The husband scanned the room, panic rising within him.
And then he saw it—a shadowy figure standing by the window.
It was tall and elongated, with eyes that glowed like embers.
Who are you?
the husband demanded, his voice trembling.
The figure turned toward him, its laughter now a guttural growl.
I am the Keeper, it hissed.
I collect souls, especially those of innocent children.
The husband’s mind raced.
He remembered the old tales—the ones his grandmother used to tell him about creatures that lurked in the shadows, waiting for their chance to steal life.
Our baby, the wife sobbed.
Where is our baby?
The keeper pointed to the open window.
He’s safe with me now.
But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.
Max barked, a mournful sound that seemed to pierce the darkness.
The husband lunged at the keeper, but his hand passed right through its form.
The creature laughed again, fading into mist, and vanished.
The couple never saw their baby again.
Max refused to enter the nursery, sitting outside the door, a silent sentinel.
The laughter still echoed in their dreams, a haunting reminder of their loss.
And every night, as the moon rose, they would hear Max’s barking twist into a hideous laugh—the same laugh that had stolen their child.
