It.

“Congratulations, It Is a girl!” said the Doctor with joy, filling up the eyes of the new mother. A smile lit her face up, and her husband came rushing in with happiness. As the mother held the baby girl, she knew everything was going to be fine, even though it was a problematic past. She always felt this presence, this ‘thing’, behind her. Wherever she went, whatever she did, the presence was stuck to her like the two opposite poles of a magnet. She always heard quiet murmurs around her, all saying the same thing – ‘First her, than you’. Her husband was too stubborn to believe her ‘crazy, unbelievable’ story, refusing to help her and asking her to forget it. This left her alone, with it.

The happy couple pranced their way to their apartment. They had finally found contentment in living here, in this new place, which first was seeming like an issue. They kept the baby girl in her cradle, swinging her to sleep. The baby girl closed her eyes, and the couple went to do their daily chores.

The mother worked at home at night, where she took and made calls for her friends’ business organisation, earning a satisfactory amount. As always she was attending calls. “First her. Then you. “Said a deep, eerie, gravelly voice, leaving the mother scared with shock. She banged the phone down, and dashed her way through the wooden, creaky staircase to check on her sleeping toddler. She banged open her door. The window was open, and the cradle was empty.

The couple searched the whole canvas for her, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Tears of sadness rolled down the mothers eyes. “I told you its true. You refused to believe. Now see what’s happened!” she yelled at her life partner. The husband had donned a baffled expression. “What did the voice say to you?” asked the husband. “First her. Then you.” “Don’t worry. We’ve searched enough here. We’ll find our baby. I’m calling the police, you sleep. I’ll call your mom to come here. You, lie down. “

The mother lay down, in the puddle of her own tears. The closet made a loud creek. The mother woke up with a startle. At that instant, the windows shook with the violent wind hushing through, and the closet door flew open. There stood a figure, a shadow like structure. The shadow jumped on her, and pierced its sharp, long, rotting nails into her chest, with its bush like long, greyish – black hair falling on her face. She tried to get the figure away from her. But she couldn’t budge the object even a little. The last thing she remembered seeing was her alarm clock flashing; it read 12:07.

She woke up with an instant, in the same bed she lay, before the gruesome nightmare. She let out a sigh of relief. She took a glance at the alarm clock flashing. It read 12:06:59. “Tick!” said the alarm clock. The closet made a loud creek.