THE ROOM

The brisk autumn air blew colorful leaves around me in a mini-tornado that seemed to pull me towards the house. A welcome or not, the push forward almost made me want to turn around and go home—but I didn't. Instead, I arrived on the Petersons' doorstep at precisely seven o'clock. In the six months that I’ve lived next door, I’d never stepped foot inside their home, so you can imagine my surprise when Mrs. Peterson approached me as I made a run to my mailbox asking me to babysit for her. This shocked me for two reasons. The extent of our interaction has always only involved the basic “Hello, how are you?” and “Have a nice day," nothing more. And two, the many times we’ve crossed paths, not once was there a child in sight; guided by my curiosity, I agreed to babysit, which is why I now stand on the porch shaking in bouts of nervousness.

Slowly, I lifted my shaking right fist and extended my pointer finger in front of the doorbell, all while internally attempting to mentally grasp for serenity. Inhaling and exhaling in slow, jittery breaths, I placed my finger on the button in preparation for pressing it when a loud hoot above my head grabbed my attention. Looking up, my eyes searched the rich dark sky for the owner of the sound, and after a moment, I found them. A small barn owl sat on a low hanging branch of an old wise oak tree. It was beautiful. A snowy white face with beady eyes emanated an intensity so great it overflowed far beyond its tiny body; it perched confidently. Mesmerized, I stared; in the twenty-six years that I've been alive, this was the first time I've seen an owl of any kind in person. Lost in intricate details of the layers of golden feathers and the superstitious feeling that seeing it meant something, I didn't hear the front door open.

“Naomie?” A woman’s voice brought my attention back to the front door, where the owner of the voice stood with her husband behind her. Mr. and Mrs. Peterson were a sight to see; they were complete opposites in the most unusually perfect way. The Mr. stood an inch or two shorter than animatedly thin, and his suit fit him as if were sewn to his skin and iron straight. The Mrs’s, on the other hand, was almost a foot taller than me, globular in shape, and dress that looked like material was draped over her body. The only similar thing about them was the creepy way they smiled at me when our eyes met, a greedy excitement that seemed to speak volumes in the language of warnings.

“H-Hi Mr. and Mrs. P-Peterson.” I managed to stutter in response to my name, which annoyingly made them giggle.

“Please do come in.” Mr. Peterson offered in his odd high raspy voice as they stepped to the side in unison. Another hoot from the owl almost pulled my attention back to it, but instead, I took a step inside. Catching one last glimpse of myself in the glass door, I looked almost like I was in my pajamas in comparison to them. I looked like a teenage boy in grey sweatpants, a long-sleeved black tee, and my dirty running sneakers.

“Thank you for coming over. Our usual babysitter is out of town for the week.” He said, closing the door. “We hope we're not putting a damper on any plans that you might have had."

"No plans," I replied, half paying attention as I gawked at the inside of their home. I’d never seen such a thing before in my life. From the small foyer space, the living room, stairwell, and kitchen were all in clear view, and nothing was furnished. There was no sofa, chairs, tables, plants, or even a picture on the eerie forest green walls; the house was empty. I hadn’t seen a moving truck, so I knew they weren’t moving. I had so many questions, but I knew it would be inappropriate to ask. An uneasiness in the unwelcomed form of a severe cramp brought me back to the now. “The baby—”

“The baby is upstairs, in the first room on the left, asleep. You don't need to check on her. Just watch the house until we come home.”

“Don’t check on her? What if she starts crying?" I questioned, and a red flag popped up in my head.

"She won't, just don't open the door, and you won't disturb her, okay?” Mrs. Peterson quickly replied as her face dropped and morphed into an uncharacteristically intense expression. I nodded obediently, in response even though I found it strange that they wanted me to refrain from making sure their child’s wellbeing. I wanted to ask why, but I hadn’t the time. The Petersons’ said nothing else to me, gave a number to call in case of emergency, no further instructions, they smiled and walked out the door. So abruptly, I was left alone in the strange empty house.

It didn’t take much time for the silence to sink its nail into me, it happened almost instantly, and it sent an unsettling chill down my spine. What was I supposed to do in an empty house? A part of me wanted to tear the front door open and run home a bolt all the doors and windows, but the other half stopped me. I wanted to see the baby for the selfish reason of just knowing what it looked like. Was there a reason why they never brought it outside? Why didn’t they want me to look in on it? My curiosity rose in undeniable waves as my mind navigated the maze of questions I had the tiny person I was supposedly watching. I mentally weighed the pros and cons of defying them and landed on the decision that they would never know it if I just took a tiny peek.

Exhaling, I turned and stared at the menacing cherry wood staircase a moment before making my way over to the bottom stair. I counted 15 stairs to the top, and I could see my destination from where I stood, yet a sudden paralyzing fear begged me not to go up there. My mind could no longer be changed. I had to go look. Legs shaking, palms sweating, heart-racing, I lifted my left leg and stepped up the first step. An air of warning grabbed at the back of my t-shirt, trying to pull me down, but I continued to ascend the old creaky stairs.

At the top, I froze in place. An air, an almost tangible one, warm and stale, rushed me blowing my short brown hair back out of my face. It was as if something had exhaled right in front of my face. My heart dropped to my stomach and turned to run just as the baby’s room door creaked open. All the breath left my body escaped as I stared into the room. It was not a baby room. In fact, it wasn't a room at all on the inner base and top of the door from sat long slimy greyish fangs that introduced long fleshy mouth. As a growl escaped the mouth and a burst of warm gamey breath washed over me, regret and fear tore me apart. I should have never come up here; I should've never agreed to come over in the first place. I dropped to my knees, shaking uncontrollably as a single tear rolled down my cheek. In the distance, a tiny hoot rang through the air, and I lost it.

The owl had tried to warn me. I know it had. I knew the moment I saw it that it was there for a reason and blatantly dismissed the warning. I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me. As the long tongue unfurled towards me, I let out a scream. I knew the cry wouldn't help me. It was more of my last release of disappointment and fear before it took me. Before I became part of the room forever.