Here’s a chilling opening for your story based on that premise:
Late at night, when the house was still and the only sound was the occasional creak of floorboards settling, Sarah sat in the quiet of the living room, watching the baby monitor’s screen with weary eyes. It had been a long day—one of those where her patience had been tested by the demands of motherhood.
Her son, Oliver, was almost three now, and she liked to keep the monitor on him as he slept. She’d done it for months, ever since he moved into his own room. It was just a comfort, a way to feel close to him even when she was across the house.
The house was old, and there were plenty of creaks and groans, the sort of sounds that kept Sarah on edge at night. She often reassured herself that it was just the house settling, but tonight something felt… off.
She glanced at the screen, the soft light flickering, displaying the dimly lit room where Oliver lay in his crib. His small, peaceful face rested against the pillow, his favorite stuffed bear tucked under his arm.
But then, just as Sarah was about to turn away, the screen glitched. A flicker. And in that brief moment, she swore she saw the sheets move—just slightly, but enough to make her freeze.
It wasn’t Oliver. He was still, his breathing steady. But the sheets… they had shifted, as if someone—something—had been under them.
Her heart skipped a beat. She leaned closer to the screen, her eyes widening, scanning the room. The camera’s view was a little limited, but she could make out the edges of his crib, the small nightlight casting a soft glow around the room.
A soft rustle. The sheets moved again, more visibly this time.
She stood up abruptly, her breath shallow. She couldn’t be imagining this. The house was old, yes, but that didn’t explain the movement.
“Oliver?” Sarah whispered, her voice trembling. She crept toward his room, but something made her hesitate. A deep, instinctual fear twisted in her gut. Should she check on him? Or was it better to stay quiet?
Suddenly, she heard it—a faint sound. A soft giggle.
It was coming from Oliver’s room.
What happens next? Would you like me to continue the story?
