Baby Josie’s broad and inviting smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld in this world. My darling little daughter takes after her mother, my wife Sharlotte, a petite blossoming flower with eyes full of gentle wisdom. In a cosmos filled with lies, deceit, and malice, Josie and her mother are my solace, a beacon of hope that draws me from the comfort of my bed to pursue their sustenance every harsh and unforgiving morning. But unbeknownst to me, a dark shadow lingered beneath the silver lining of my floating cloud.
That fateful October night remains vivid in my mind, as I am doomed to revisit it until my end of days. Cinder Bay was dark, quiet, and starless, like a desolate void, devoid of chirping crickets and buzzing cicadas. Pin-drop silence prevailed upon an unwelcome chill that enveloped the grim night.
Josie was fussier than usual, and putting her down was a task ill-suited for the faint of heart. She clawed at my face and yanked at my lip in the dim lighting of her room, and I could tell her screams and cries traversed far beyond the secure confines of our walls. Sharlotte and I took turns soothing her, but all our efforts in lullabies, butt taps, and rocking techniques fell on deaf ears as Baby Josie’s cries grew louder into the night.
The clock struck midnight, and dark circles sagged beneath my wife’s weary eyes. The room blurred and swirled around me, and sleep threatened to devour my senses. It soon became apparent we were fighting a losing battle, and a tired gesture from my wife signaled our initiation of Plan B. It seldom worked, but we were out of options, and we both had work the next day.
I went to Josie’s cabinet and pulled out all her favorite toys before spreading them on the floor. Sharlotte gave a tired sigh and released the baby from her grasp, letting her settle upon the treasure trove laid before her. The crying stopped, but the long wait for Josie to tire herself out had just begun, and neither Sharlotte nor I had the energy to see our plan to fruition. A wave of sleep washed over us, and it wasn’t long until we were snoring on the floor.
Slumber was sweet and tantalizing in the hushed silence of the night. As we floated in the dreamless haven of rest, a scream pierced the night, tearing me from sleep.
Josie! I thought.
I scanned the dark, but there was no baby in sight. Despite the calm, the open door banged against the wall.
I remember closing that.
Another scream followed from the hallway. My wife was so deeply asleep, she didn’t hear a thing. She had a long day already, so I decided not to bother her. Leaving her on the floor, I peeled myself off the ground and stumbled to my feet as the last vestiges of sleep trickled from my system. My ribs ached where the hardwood pressed, and my neck had stiffened from the awkward angle of my neck upon the floor.
“Josie,” my whisper came loud and ominous in the night’s silence. I checked the dark corridor outside, but my daughter was nowhere in sight. My heart sank as I remembered the stairs at the end of the hall.
Giggle.
That came from downstairs.
I fumbled for the light switch on the wall, but I couldn’t find it. So, I abandoned hope for light altogether and stumbled to the staircase, knocking a flower vase on the way, and ignoring the agony that tore through my shin. I finally found the banister and felt my way down the dark steps.
“Josie?”
Another giggle came, and I could’ve sworn I heard two different voices. A series of rapid pats and drags followed on the creaking floor below, like a fast-crawling baby playfully evading its parent.
More giggles followed.
“Josie?”
There was only silence this time.
The floorboards groaned and moaned as I made it down the stairs, making it harder to discern other sounds in the dark silence. Dim moonlight filtered in from the long windows in the living room and kitchen. The spaces in between contrasted in an endless sea of darkness, cloaking every nook and cranny in a menacing abyss.
I felt my way past the closed pantry door to the moonlight in the kitchen, wary of the dangers of stray knives, glass, and ceramic to a curious child in the dark. I sighed in relief when my leg hit the closed half gate by the kitchen doorway when the rapid tap and drag came again. It was right behind me this time.
“Josie!”
The floor beneath me was pitch dark as I hovered my hand over it.
“Josie?”
Only the cold floor greeted me down there. More giggles followed, hanging in the air, ringing right over my left ear, shrouded in the dark. I looked back up and only suspended dust particles shimmered in the dim moonlight streaming in from the kitchen window.
I found my feet again and immediately felt something was amiss. Something watched me in the dark, not my daughter, but something else. Something vile and evil, hiding in the dark, tracing my movements. I felt it in every fiber of my being, and with it, an icy chill traced down my spine. An eerie silence followed, as if time itself had ground to a halt. Even the dust twirling in the air seemed to hang in space.
“Josie?” My voice was louder this time, piercing through the veil of darkness, desperate to find my daughter.
That’s when the response came, “Dada!”
It came from the living room.
More giggles followed.
I rushed to my baby’s voice, shielding my face against the corridor walls and taking solace in the intermittent streams of light from the windows.
Josie sat on the living room floor, her features lit by the low, muted TV screen upon the low-lying console.
“Baby?” I called.
Josie turned with squealing joy to see me, and I rushed to the floor to hold her. As I held her in my arms, her head lying over my shoulder, I noticed the dark, grimy figure grinning in the shadow, just a meter from where I knelt. I watched in horror as the figure slowly stepped deeper into the shadows and disappeared into the far wall.
That was the last night Sharlotte and I ever dared to try Plan B.
