Horror flash fiction by Agustin Guerrero
“Mommy, you don’t have to tuck me in. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
My mom leans in and kisses my forehead. She smiles at me, but the tears glazing her eyes betray her emotion.
“Don’t cry, Mommy. I wasn’t going to be your little girl forever. You know that.”
She doesn’t answer. The back of her hand brushes my cheek before she gets up to leave. I watch her as she crosses the room. She reaches out for the light switch and looks back at me. I smile at her and she plunges my room into darkness.
I hear the creak of the stairs as she goes up to her room. She hasn’t made it to the second floor before the voice starts again. A hushed whisper carries through my room. It’s the same whisper I’ve been trying to ignore as many nights back as I can remember. It starts out soft, so soft I can barely make out the words. But as the night goes on, it grows louder.
It’s time for you to join us, Harper. Come with us, Harper.
I don’t sleep anymore. I have to listen to that whisper from the moment my mom turns out the light until the first rays of dawn drive the voice away. I have tried to reason with it, but it never says anything else. I can’t convince it to leave me be.
Come with us, Harper. It’s time for you to join us, Harper.
It’s not a boy or a girl whispering to me. It doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve ever met. The voice sounds like that of an old man mixed with a baby’s scream. I don’t like the whispers. I wish they would just leave me alone.
Come with us, Harper.”
“I can’t come with you, my Mommy needs me!”
The voices continue to whisper, ignoring my pleas. I start singing to myself. It’s the only way to drown out the whispers.
The next morning my mom comes in my room after the whispers have faded. She turns on the light and sits with me on the bed. I look at her and I wait. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes. I watch as some of the rotted flesh falls away from the bone.
“Mommy, the accident happened a long time ago. I think I have to go. I don’t want to, Mommy, but I think I have to.”
I hover over her and my body. I don’t look how I used to. The curly blonde hair has been falling out, leaving yellowed patches of skull bone in its place. My eyes are gone, filled with the eggs of the flies that have taken up residence in my body. It’s hard to look at me, but it’s harder to see my mom cry.
The tears are rolling down her cheeks. Her shoulders move up and down in silent sobs. I try to hug her but as usual I go through her. She leans down and kisses my forehead.
“Okay Mommy, I’ll stay.”