On the Other Side

He squirmed uncomfortably under his covers. There lingered at the back of his head, a certain unease, a feeling of being watched. 'There is nothing to be afraid of.', Mommy had assured. But he still couldn't shake away the feeling of a demonic presence. His brows furrowed as he tried to concentrate on the uniform, soothing sound of the ceiling fan, which comforted him. No, Mommy was wrong. He knew it. But no one believed him. If only he were a little older.

A sudden thought struck him; a terrible thought. His eyes darted towards the closet door. It was well shut. He ought to be relieved. 'But who said that they cannot open closet doors?', Daddy had joked. 

The fan creaked to a halt. There must have been a power cut. He shivered. This was too much. He pressed his stuffed toy bear against his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried not to think about that thing on the other side of his bed. Then he heard it. From the other side of the matress. Breathing.

For the first time, he felt pure terror. He dared not open his eyes. He clenched his teddy even harder, his nails digging into its fur. The sound was faint and gentle at first. Then it gradually got louder. And closer. Now it seemed to be as loud as a drill. Hoarse and raspy, almost evil. 

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. 'There's nothing. It's all part of your imagination.', he tried to reassure himself. The sound was now unbearable. It bored deeper and deeper into his skull, giving him a splitting headache. His hands shot up to clutch his head and his teddy rolled away, forgotten. The sound kept getting louder and louder. He grinded his teeth in pain, trying not to cry out. Tears were gushing out of his eyes. His face was pink from crying, his palms sweaty. His forehead was beaded with sweat. He couldn't bear it anymore. He just couldn't. He clawed at his hair and let out an agonizing scream.

That was it. There was no more noise. Pin-drop silence. His head throbbed and his little heart pounded furiously against his chest. His throat felt raw and sore. Silence reigned the room, which was occasionally broken by his whining and his heart-wrenching sobs. This deadly silence was even more ghastly than the demonic moans. He knew that beyond this, underneath this dark blanket of silence, lurked unimaginable danger. He regretted crying out loud. Oh, how he missed the calm, comforting whirring of the fan! He sniffed and cried himself to a fitful sleep.

The next morning, he awoke to whispering voices. It belonged to his parents. Wait, there was someone else present too. They had a visitor.

'Yes, we are extremely worried. He really has an active imagination, but now this is getting out of control.', he heard Mommy say.

'I understand ma'am. It is not unusual at this age. Just a few sessions and he will be alright.'

Why didn't they believe him? He knew it. There lived something on the other side of the bed. No one took him seriously when he told that there lived a real human child above his bed, not even Mommy and Daddy. If only he were a little older.