Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Spooky Season, Writing

It Wants My Baby – Chapter Two

I can’t believe that I’m writing this. This is more than a dream or a delusion, I know that now. Nobody else can see it, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

She came to our flat. Lily came to our home. Nobody believes me, but she was here.

I woke up last night, and she was at the side of the bed, standing over me, all those eyes, blinking and glaring at me. Her mouth was wide open, a gargle escaping into the air as her sharp teeth shone in the moonlight that crept through the curtains.

“Where’s my baby?” She reached for my stomach and I jerked back, trying to push her hands away, shocked as our hands met, and hers were cold as ice. “Give it to me.” I turned to wake my wife, but she wasn’t in bed next to me. I looked around the room, and saw her by the bedroom door. She was holding her front door keys, but her eyes were tightly shut, like she was still asleep. I called out her name but she just stayed in that state, like she was in a trance or something.

“Leave us alone!” It felt pointless to say it, but I screamed it all the same. My hands instinctively went to my stomach. I was desperate to protect my baby. My baby, not hers.

I cried out as her hands landed on mine, and the horrific pain of her grasp began again. Just like during the scan, it felt like she was trying to pull something from within me. I tried to force her off of me but she was too strong. “Not cooked yet.” She snarled, suddenly releasing me. I fell back to the bed, trying my best to put some distance between us. “Faster.” She launched herself at me, crossing the bed in seconds. Holding me down, she forced my mouth open and dropped something inside, it tasted so bitter, burning my mouth and my throat as it went down. I coughed and spluttered, trying to force it away, but it was no use. “Cook faster.” With those final words, almost a demand, she released me, dashing towards the window and jumping from it.

Everything was still for a moment, but then my wife sprang to life, her face painted with confusion.

Again, she remembered nothing. She had heard nothing. I tried to explain, as I knelt over the toilet, trying to make myself throw up whatever Lily had forced down my throat, and as I stared down into the bowl, seeing a dark liquid, I prayed, I’m not sure who to, but I prayed that it was all gone, and that she, or it, hadn’t harmed the baby.

My wife is asleep again. I’m just sat here in bed wondering what to do. I couldn’t sleep now, even if I tried. I’ve checked all the windows and doors, taken all the keys and kept them for myself. They’re just piled up on my side of the bed, and I’m staring at them, wondering if I’ll ever be safe again.

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