I Don’t Have Kids
I can’t sleep
I’ve always prided myself on being a good sleeper. I can fall asleep anywhere, in any position. But lately, sleep has been elusive. Every night, I wake up to the sound of children crying, these voices muffled but distinct, drifting through the walls. Sometimes, it’s just one of them; sometimes, it’s a chorus of high-pitched wails.
The first time it happened, I thought I was dreaming. It was around 4 am; I was deep in sleep but suddenly awoke to the sounds of crying. It was faint at first, like the sound of a distant television, with the volume turning up too high. I tried to cancel it with the pillow over my ears, but it persisted. It just…didn’t stop.
By the time I stumbled out of bed, the cries were clearer. Louder. Coming from somewhere within the house. The living room? The kitchen? It was as if the children were trapped behind the walls, their desperate sobs breaking through the thin plaster. But the house was silent when I checked. The doors were locked, windows closed—no sign of anyone or anything.
I told myself it was nothing. Maybe it was some kind of sleep disorder, or perhaps I had imagined it, the remnants of a strangely vivid dream. But the next night, it happened again. And the next. Every night, without fail, I would wake up to the sound of children crying. Sometimes, they begged for help, and others would just scream. The sound was always so real, so close. But whenever I searched the house, it was empty.
I’m losing my mind, right? I have to be.
But then it started happening during the day.
One afternoon, I was in the kitchen, making lunch, and it was there again. The same wailing, the same despair. I froze, the light flickered, and the air grew colder. I rushed to the living room, my heart pounding. I scanned the room. Nothing. The house was still.
I checked every room, every closet, corner, cupboard. No kids. There were no signs of anything, just silence.
I went to the doctor, and they gave me some sleeping medication; I was going to take them last night, but something stopped me. I don’t know why, but I needed one more night to see if maybe it was all in my head.
Last night, I woke up again. This time, the cries were louder than before. They were coming from behind my headboard. I jumped out of bed, rushing to the other side of the room and turned to look at where I was just lying.
There were no children. But hovering just above where I slept, there was a shadow.
I didn’t wait to see what happened next. I left my room, slammed the door and jammed the handle.
It seems the crying has stopped for the first time in weeks, but even as I write this, I know it’s never.
I don’t have kids, but whatever is here is waiting, and it’s not done with me yet.
