My Daughter Jane

It began subtly—slight shifts in her behavior that I initially brushed off as typical childhood quirks. Jane had always been imaginative, weaving fantastical stories about fairies and dragons. But now, her tales grew darker, tinged with shadows that made my stomach twist. She spoke of a “friend” who lived in the woods behind our home, a friend who wanted to play but only came out at night.

“Mommy, can we go play with her?” she would ask, her wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and something I couldn’t quite place—fear or perhaps a hint of obsession.

I gently discouraged her. “Sweetheart, it’s not safe to wander into the woods at night. We can go during the day.”

But Jane was undeterred, her spirit relentless. She often spoke to this unseen friend, laughing and whispering to the air as if it held secrets only she could understand. It sent chills down my spine.

One evening, after a particularly bizarre day where Jane insisted her friend wanted her to bring something special, I decided to follow her into the woods. My heart raced as I trailed behind her, the trees swallowing the fading light, casting long shadows that danced around us. I thought I could reason with her, explain the dangers of imaginary friends—especially ones that beckon from the dark.

“Jane,” I called softly, trying to catch up. “Let’s go back home.”

But she turned, a grin stretching across her face, and said, “No, Mommy! She’s waiting for us!”

My breath quickened, a feeling of dread creeping into my heart. I pressed on, determined to keep her safe. Just as I reached out to grab her hand, she stopped abruptly, her gaze fixed on something beyond the trees.

“See? There she is!” Jane exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. I followed her gaze, but all I could see was a thick wall of dark foliage.

“Jane, there’s nothing there,” I said, my voice shaking slightly.

She ignored me, her small hand waving at the unseen figure. “Come on, let’s go play!”

In a moment of sheer panic, I grabbed her arm. “We need to go home. Now.”

Reluctantly, she turned, and we made our way back, the feeling of being watched lingering like a heavy mist. That night, I lay awake, my mind racing. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Over the next few days, Jane's behavior escalated. She began to draw strange pictures—figures with hollow eyes and elongated limbs, standing among twisted trees. When I asked her about them, she simply shrugged, claiming they were just her friend’s family.

I sought help, reaching out to a child psychologist, but she merely nodded, taking notes while assuring me it was a phase. “Children often go through imaginative periods,” she said, a practiced smile on her face. “Just give her time.”

But I wasn’t convinced. Something gnawed at me, a relentless worry that gnawed deeper with every passing day.

One night, I awoke to the sound of whispers echoing through the house. I shot upright in bed, heart racing. The whispers grew louder, and a chill enveloped me. I tiptoed down the hall, my breath hitching in my throat.

As I reached Jane’s room, the door creaked open. Peering inside, I saw her sitting on the floor, surrounded by her drawings. She was talking animatedly, her eyes wide with excitement. But as I stepped closer, I felt a wave of cold air wash over me, and her laughter turned to something sinister—a low, echoing giggle that sent shivers down my spine.

“Jane?” I called, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she tilted her head, her expression shifting from joy to something unreadable.

“Mommy, she says you don’t understand,” Jane said, her voice distant as if someone else were speaking through her.

I backed away, my heart pounding in my chest. “What do you mean? Who says?”

But Jane only grinned, her eyes darkening. “She wants to show you.”

Fear took hold of me, and I turned to flee, but before I could reach the hallway, Jane’s small hand grasped my arm, her grip impossibly strong. “Mommy, don’t go! She’s my friend!”

Suddenly, I felt a shift in the air, an overwhelming darkness that enveloped the room. Shadows stretched and twisted, curling around me like tendrils. I screamed, yanking my arm free, and stumbled back into the hallway, the echo of Jane’s laughter haunting me.

I ran to the living room, my mind racing. I needed to get help, to figure out what was happening. But when I looked back, I saw Jane standing in the doorway, her silhouette illuminated by the dim light behind her.

“Mommy, where are you going?” she asked, her voice soft yet eerily calm.

“Stay away from me!” I shouted, desperation filling my words. “This isn’t you!”

But as I spoke, I realized it wasn’t just Jane standing there. Behind her, a figure emerged from the shadows, a distorted shape with hollow eyes that bore into my soul. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the terror I had tried to deny.

“Jane, come here!” I called, but my voice trembled.

She took a step back, glancing between me and the dark figure. “But she wants to play…”

In that moment, I knew I had to fight back. I ran toward her, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the doorway. “No! We’re leaving!”

The figure hissed, the sound reverberating in the air as we dashed for the front door. With every step, I could feel the darkness clawing at my heels, trying to drag us back. I flung open the door and burst into the night, dragging Jane with me.

As we reached the edge of the woods, I turned to her, desperation etched on my face. “You need to listen to me! This isn’t safe!”

But Jane’s eyes were glazed, lost in a haze of enchantment. “She’s my friend, Mommy. She loves me.”

“No!” I screamed, clutching her tighter. “We’re going home!”

With every ounce of strength I had left, I pulled her away from the woods, the whispers fading behind us. It was a battle against forces I could not comprehend, a fight for my daughter’s soul.

Finally, we reached the safety of the streetlights, and the darkness began to recede. Jane blinked, her expression shifting from confusion to fear. “Mommy? What just happened?”

Tears streamed down my face as I embraced her tightly, the nightmare slowly unraveling. “We’ll figure it out, Jane. We’ll find a way to break this.”

But deep down, I knew that something sinister had taken hold of my daughter. As the night closed in around us, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Jane’s friend was still watching, lurking just beyond the shadows, waiting for another chance to pull her back into the darkness.