Ever since him and his mom moved into the new dad’s house and the creepy old den became his bedroom, Henry Andrews hasn’t been able to sleep.
And when he does sleep, the nightmares make him wish he hadn’t— visions of his fingernails being pried off, his head caved in, his eyeballs peeled layer by layer… sleep just isn’t worth it.
Each night a cold chill surges through Henry Andrews as a looming shadow— somehow darker than the dark— hovers overhead. His mind races, as he tells himself it’s just the lights of a passing car playing with his young mind… but he knows that he is not alone.
Sometimes he swears he can hear whispered giggles mixed in with the rustling of the trees in the wind… but when he tries to tell his mom, the new dad just thinks he’s being difficult and wanting attention.
To prove it to them both, Henry “borrows” the tape recorder from his psychiatrist’s office and leaves it on all night.
The next morning brought vindication, but, again, it just isn’t worth it… through the crackle and pop of the cassette recording, a high pitched childish voice can be heard hissing the same phrase over and over in a sing-songy rhythm… “Go to sleep”
“Go to sleeeeeep, go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleeeeeep”
Henry can feel the scabby breath of the presence on the back of his neck as he listens to it start to giggle, the one he heard in the trees night after night— and he throws the tape player on the floor, trying to break it in a million pieces.
But the tape keeps playing, and Henry hears what he hoped he hadn’t— the voice was giggling his name.
“Henry, Heeeeeenry, Hhhhhhhhenry” it giggles breathily.
“Go to sleep”.
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