{{Author's Note: I like writing stories. Mostly creepy ones. So as I come up with this mini series, I'll show it to you guys as well. Constructive Criticism is welcome and I hope you enjoy}}

It sucks being a kid sometimes.

No, it sucks almost all the time. It’s cool I don’t have to pay bills or go to work. But I can’t stand being treated like a kid.

People are always telling you what to do and where to be. Or they just send you off to some other room if they feel like you’re annoying. But the most maddening part of this whole experience is the fact that no one, especially no adult, takes you seriously.

Now I can see why this is the case with most kids, but I’m not a normal 11 year old. I figured that out once my parents started putting me in competitions and fairs.

First place in the spelling bee, and the youngest contestant.

Blue Ribbon in the science fair.

First place in Junior Robotics.

People always tell me I’m “gifted,” but I just think I’m me. I learned to read at 30 months, but that’s just because I liked it. Right?

I’m always told that I’m gifted, special, maturing quickly for my age. But none of that comes into play when it really needs to.

I haven’t seen my parents in 4 months.

Before they disappeared, everything was almost perfect. They’re both CEOs, so we get to live in a nice house with a maid who visits twice a week. Her name is Millicent, but we call her Millie. My days were pretty structured. Waking up at 7:00AM, going to school and robotics, coming home to dinner, studying for an hour, bathe, then going to bed at 8:30PM. Always.

Bedtime is the worst part of each day. Ever since I was little, I have been terrified of my room at night. I get a heavy, sick feeling in my gut once the grandfather clock in my dad’s office strikes the 8 o’clock hour. It makes me pee the bathwater every time.

There’s something in my closet. I have to call it a Thing because I have no idea what it is. When I was 6, I remembered going into my closet because my toy chest was also in there. As I reached into the chest, I felt something that shouldn’t have been there. It was cold and damp. When I tried to pull it out, it grabbed me and tried to pull me into the box. I was able to lose its grip, but I immediately closed the box , ran and told my parents.

Of course they didn’t believe me. In fact, my mother thought it was a good thing that I “finally showed some imagination.” I started crying….I couldn’t help it….it wasn’t my imagination! Only then did my father walk me upstairs, cursing under his breath. He pulled out each toy and game, one by one, and even flipped the chest over. Nothing was wrong with it. There were no holes or missing corners. And I definitely didn’t see him pull out a hand.

“See? Nothing is here son. Our minds just like to make up things sometimes. Now be a good girl and get to bed.”

That was the first time. I i haven’t touched the chest since then, but that lead to the Thing getting bolder. I would hear noises unlike any other in the night, after I hear 12 strokes of the clock in my dreams. Sometimes I would hear whispers, and I could never make out what the words are. Other times, there were sounds: things being dragged, power tools, a few times there were sounds like an animal eating. I would tell my parents every time I heard something, but they just grew tired of me. After so long my father threatened to send me to “The Home” if I didn’t stop. “The Home” is actually Roberta’s Home for Troubled Girls. I’ve heard a couple of people at school talk about the place and none of it sounded pleasant...so I just kept my mouth shut.

4 months ago I decided to prove to my parents once and for all that I wasn’t lying. I left my iPad in the closet, with the video on, so I could catch these noises and maybe some other form of evidence. I closed the closet just enough to make sure I could grab the iPad but still hide most of whatever is in there. I stayed up all night waiting for anything to happen. I got my wish at midnight, when the Thing spoke to me. This time there was no whisper, it was loud and clear...and in English.

“Ok girl. I’ll give you what you want, just to get what I need.”

I froze. I wanted so badly to scoop up the iPad and run to my parents rooms. But I was stuck there. This thing spoke to me…..why now? How does it know what I want? So it knows what an iPad is? What does it need? Why was it ok with this?

After 1 hour of silence passed, I figured it was safe to grab the iPad. I grabbed my selfie stick and carefully slid it towards me. Once I could grab it, I saw it was still recording. I must’ve gotten something!I darted to my parents room. I figured if I could just get the proof to them….

“MOM! DAD! I’ve got it! WAKE UP WAKE UP!”

My mom sleepily sat up, “Honey what are you talking about?”

“I’ve got proof! There’s something in my closet and I NEED you to believe me!”

This fully woke up my father. “For Christ sakes Whitney do you see what time it is?? I will not have you disrupt my life with this nonsense! You’re too old and too smart for this!”

My dad grabbed me and yanked me off the bed, dragging me by my arm back to my room. I was kicking and screaming, yelling, trying to tell him that he just needs to look at my iPad. That I’m not lying. The whole time my mother was also yelling at him, following close behind.

“Stephen! You do not need to be that rough! STEPHEN!”

My dad wasn’t listening to either of us. He rushed into my room,turned on the light, and placed me on the bed.

“Whitney, since you can’t seem to grow up, I’m going to start packing your bags now. First thing in the morning you’re going to head to The Home.”

“Oh Stephen,” my mother put on her concerned, sweet voice. “Don’t you think that’s--”

“QUIET Elaine.” He sternly interrupted, “Don’t undermine me in front of our child. I’ve made my decision and I’m refuse to have a prankster for a daughter. If this is how she wants to be, she’ll have no trouble making friends at Roberta’s”

“Daddy PLEASE! Why would I lie about this?? Just watch this video!”

My dad snatched the iPad from my hands. “THIS is probably why you’re acting so foolish. Don’t think you’re going to see this for a while.”

He grabbed my overnight bag and flung open the closet door. He placed the iPad on the shelf above my clothes inside. I watched him push my clothes over to one side to start sorting through, and then I heard him let out the most terrible scream I’ve ever heard from him...

Thanks to the light, I could finally see the Thing for what it was. It looked something like a man. Tall, upright, with a long, dark robe with a hood that covered the top half of Its face. Its feet looked like they were still inside of the closed toy chest, like the chest was a part of It. I could see two tears in the center of its face, jagged slits for nostrils. Its skin was blueish green and it looked like there was mold on it, patchy and fuzzy with life inside.

It grabbed my father and held him close while covering his mouth, but it seemed like he was knocked out or in a trance, because he wasn’t trying to fight back. My mother tried to get me and run, but the thing stretched his left arm so long, it was able to reach her without the rest of his body moving an inch. It’s arm was a disgusting thing. Covered in mold, discolored skin, and these tiny little holes that were in a straight line. It pulled my mother back into the closet and It looked me in the eyes. It...didn’t have eyes. There were just sockets with 2 specks of light floating in the center of them.

He spoke to me one last time.

“My years here were fun. You won’t miss me, but i’ll be seeing you soon.”

I watched him sink into the wall behind him, my parents phasing through with him. Just like that, they left, with the wall untouched or damaged.

Two days later the police combed through my entire house. Millie called them, it was her day to come and she hadn’t heard from my parents. Once she got there I told her I hadn’t seen them, and they were gone once I woke up. I spent those two days trying to figure out how to deal with all of this. Let’s face it, if I told Millie the truth, it was as good as sending myself to The Home. A child traumatized and in the way of the real investigation.

It has been 4 months since I’ve last seen my parents. And I’m the only one who truly knows where they are. Millie has decided to stay in my house to keep taking care of me. I wondered why she wouldn’t take me to her place, but everyone says it would be better if I stayed in a familiar environment. Plus, the police concluded that there was nothing threatening my safety at the house….how ironic.

But my nights have gone silent...I haven’t heard a single whisper, slide, or bump, or tool since It took my parents. I never would’ve thought that I would be more terrified without the noises. But I am….what could mom and dad be going through? And what in the world was that Thing...a monster? A demon? A man with a sickness? My nightmares have become worse….my mind trying to fill in the blanks of this entire situation.

Today, I decided to stop being afraid.

I came up with a plan. At school, I didn’t eat the lunch Millie packed for me. I spent that time doing research on YouTube. Once I got home, I was able to grab more bread, cheese, fruit, and water bottles to throw in my backpack while Millie was busy tidying up. As soon as she went to bed for the night, I went straight into my father’s study. I have never been allowed in, but of course I already know my way around it quite well. Under his desk, there is a small compartment where he keeps a Colt Revolver. Daddy loved that thing and always bragged how it made him feel like an old school detective,and how it’s always loaded. I finally found it for the first time last month. It was easy to look for it...since they weren’t around to keep me out.

I pulled the little tab that’s hidden right at the edge and grab it. I’ve never used a gun, but the YT videos showed me enough...I hope.

I sat and waited on my bed, fully dressed with boots and my jacket on. I left the closet doors open and stared into it. I needed to find a way to get through the closet. I thought about destroying the wall but I knew better, it would only lead to a gaping hole that didn’t hold my parents.

….

12 strokes of the Grandfather clock woke me up from rooms away. The moment the clock stopped, a hole started to form in the center of my closet. It grew and grew until it was just big enough for me to step through.

I hopped up and stood in front of the hole. There were toys floating around in an empty, dark space. I could see old toys of mine and toys I’ve never seen before. I didn’t want to be brave. I wanted to run away and try to forget about it all. Maybe it could all work out.

But then I heard my father’s voice.

“Whitney!”

Running and forgetting was not an option.

I gripped my bag tightly, and took a step inside.

*Part {2} Coming Soon*