Sarah’s chest tightened as she stared at the framed photo in the corner, Jack’s darkened eyes burning into her. The air in the room felt heavier now, pressing down on her shoulders. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from that twisted image of her son—her Jack, but not the Jack she remembered.
As she stepped closer to the photo, her feet felt leaden, her legs resisting each step. Her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts. With trembling hands, she picked up the frame, hoping—desperately—that it might somehow be a trick of the light. But the eyes… those hollow, black voids stared back at her, impossibly real. A cold shiver ran down her spine.
The door behind her slammed shut with a thunderous bang.
Sarah screamed, dropping the frame to the floor, the glass shattering with a sharp crack. She whirled around, her back pressing against the wall. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, the echoes of the slam ringing in her ears.
In the silence that followed, she heard something—a soft, scraping sound, like nails on wood. Her stomach twisted with dread as her eyes darted toward the source of the noise.
The closet door.
It was moving, just slightly, as if something—or someone—was inside, trying to get out.
“No…” Sarah whispered, shaking her head in denial. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her throat, the room spinning as she backed away toward the far side of the room. The closet door creaked open inch by inch, the shadows inside shifting unnaturally.
Then, a voice. Faint. Childlike.
“Mommy… why did you forget me?”
Sarah’s blood turned to ice. The voice—it was Jack’s, but warped, twisted, like it had been dragged through layers of darkness. It wasn’t a cry for help. It was an accusation.
“I didn’t forget you, Jack! I swear!” Her voice broke, and tears blurred her vision. “I never forgot you!”
The closet door was now fully open. Inside, she saw him. Jack—or whatever was left of him—standing there, his once small, innocent frame contorted, unnatural. His eyes were black pits, and his smile, that horrible, too-wide grin, stretched across his face.
“You left me…” The words came out as a hiss, his head tilting unnaturally to one side. “You let me disappear.”
Sarah backed into the corner, her mind racing, trying to make sense of it all. “I didn’t let you disappear!” she cried. “I don’t know what happened! Please, Jack, please… forgive me!”
But the figure didn’t move closer. It just stared at her with those dark, endless eyes, a silence settling over the room that was more terrifying than any noise.
Then, the floor beneath Sarah began to vibrate. Faintly at first, then stronger. The walls trembled, the very air around her thickening as if the house itself was coming alive. Her mind swam with terror, the realization dawning on her. This wasn’t just grief. This was something else—something ancient, something wrong.
The shadows in the room began to swirl, pulling toward the figure of Jack, wrapping around him like dark tendrils. His smile widened, and his voice dropped into a guttural, inhuman tone.
“You’ll remember now… forever.”
The tendrils of shadow snapped toward Sarah, wrapping around her ankles, her wrists, dragging her toward the closet. She screamed, her nails clawing at the floor, but the force was too strong. The last thing she saw before the darkness consumed her was Jack’s distorted face, grinning down at her, those black eyes pulling her into an endless void.
Then, everything went dark.
When Sarah opened her eyes again, the house was quiet. The fog outside had cleared, and sunlight streamed through the windows. She blinked, disoriented, sitting up slowly. The room looked… normal.
Had it all been a dream?
She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake the heaviness from her mind. But as she stood and looked around, she froze.
The house was exactly as it had been the day before Jack disappeared. His toys, his blanket, his little shoes—everything was just as it had been, like time had reversed itself.
Her heart leaped in her chest as she ran downstairs, calling out for him. “Jack! Jack, are you here?”
But there was no response.
She rushed into the kitchen, her eyes scanning every inch of the room. Then she saw it—a note on the refrigerator, written in a child’s handwriting.
“You can’t forget me now, Mommy. I’m always with you.”
She backed away slowly, her hand over her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. She could still hear his voice, echoing in her mind, soft but insistent.
Jack was gone. But somehow, some way, he would never really leave her.
And she would never forget again.