My daughter told me she’s not scared of the dark

Makeda has always been an amazing child — bright, energetic, always full of laughter and curiosity. The absolute joy of my existence.

Even after losing her mother just before her eighth birthday, we lived life to the fullest, just as we promised her mother we would. Cancer had taken so much from us, and on her deathbed, Vivian made us both swear to get it all back — and more.

So needless to say, I would — and will — do anything and everything to keep my baby girl happy.

Remember that. It’s going to become important later.

As a cybersecurity expert who works remotely when needed, I’ve always stayed very aware of Makeda’s emotional state. So when her moods began to shift — subtly at first — I noticed. She seemed more withdrawn. Less energy. Less laughter.

Still, since we had such a close relationship, I didn’t pry. I figured she’d come to me when she was ready.

But as her overall wellness declined, she stayed silent. Whatever was bothering her, she wasn’t ready to share.

When her teacher emailed me — saying she’d noticed Makeda falling asleep in class and losing focus — I knew I couldn’t just wait any longer.

“Makeda, baby girl… is something going on?”

“No.”

But her eyes shifted away from mine — her tell.

“You know if there’s anything happening to you, you can always come to me.”

“I know, Daddy. Me and you forever.”

It was our thing. A phrase I’d say to her often.

“Then what is it, baby girl? Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

“It’s… nothing.”

Again, her eyes.

“Baby girl… Mrs. Stranton emailed me today. She’s worried about you too. Says you’ve been distracted in class, falling asleep sometimes. She’s wondering if you’re not getting enough rest.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t do it again.”

I pulled her into my arms. “Baby girl, I’m not worried about what you’re doing. I’m worried about why. Are you having trouble sleeping?”

She wrapped her arms around my neck and held on tight.

“Yes… Daddy, can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course you can.”

That night, we made a pillow fort on my bed. We laughed, played, and finally fell asleep together.

The next morning, she looked and sounded so much better. Her spirits were high again. I thought, Maybe all she needed was some time with Daddy.

For the next couple of nights, she slept in my bed. Everything felt right again. Even Mrs. Stranton emailed me to say she’d noticed the improvement — which made me feel relieved.

Until Tanya came over.

Now, to be clear — Tanya and Makeda had always gotten along. Tanya genuinely seemed to adore her, and Makeda appeared fond of Tanya too.

She understood that sometimes Daddy got lonely, and Tanya stayed over to keep him… company. We had explained it gently, and even with all she’d been through, Makeda never showed any resentment.

But that night — the one Tanya stayed over — Makeda knocked on the bedroom door.

I answered. Tanya was hiding under the covers — she hadn’t exactly come dressed for visitors.

Makeda stood there in her pajamas.

“Can I sleep in the bed with you?”

I told her no.

And she promptly…

urinated on the floor.

That’s when I realized something was very, very wrong.

My daughter wasn’t just struggling.

She was terrified.

After we cleaned Makeda up and got her settled in bed with us, Tanya stayed — gracious and calm, doing her best to be supportive. She understood that if we made a big deal out of what just happened, we might end up traumatizing Makeda even more.

I held my daughter close, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Okay, Baby Girl… tell Daddy what’s going on. Why don’t you want to sleep alone anymore? You never had any problems before.”

Tanya gently chimed in.

“Is something happening while you’re sleeping, Makeda? Are you afraid of the dark?”

Makeda’s tear-filled eyes flicked from Tanya to me… then back again.

“I’m not scared of the dark,” she said, her voice small — but sure, almost defiant.

Then she turned her face toward me, locked her eyes onto mine… and what I saw in them made my stomach drop.

“But I am scared, Daddy.

I’m scared of the lights.”

Tanya and I exchanged a confused glance.

“What lights?” we asked in unison.

That’s when Makeda did something that froze the air in the room.

She raised a finger to her lips.

And shushed us.

Two grown adults — silenced by a child’s whisper of urgency.

“Shhh…

They’ll hear you.”

Then my little girl reached for my hand with one of hers — the other still pressed to her lips, urging silence.

She led me out of the bedroom, Tanya following close behind.

We crept down the hallway in the dim silence of the house. Once we reached the door to the master bedroom, Makeda stopped and pointed — at her room.

At first, I didn’t see anything. But then, a faint glow began to pulse from inside.

It was strange — not a full light, more like the soft wash of a phone screen being scrolled through in a dark room. Gentle, eerie, ambient.

Someone was in my daughter’s room.

I turned to Tanya, handed Makeda into her arms.

“Stay here,” I whispered.

Then I went and retrieved my sidearm from the lockbox in the nightstand.

With every ounce of stealth I had, I made my way back toward Makeda’s room.

In my head, one thought repeated like a drumbeat:

If someone’s been messing with my little girl… they’re going to die tonight.

I reached the edge of her doorway and carefully peeked around the corner.

That’s when I saw them.

Three glowing orbs, about the size of softballs, floating above her bed.

They pulsed with an iridescent, shifting light — blue, then green, then something in between.

They moved like smoke in water, graceful and aimless, suspended in the air.

At first, I thought they were silent.

But then…

If I listened hard enough…

I could hear them.

Talking.

Where is she?

She hasn’t been here for days.

She must be somewhere else in the house.

She’s scared of us.

She should be scared of us.

We were so close.

We almost had her.

I told you, we shouldn’t have mentioned her mother.

Wait…

We’re being watched.

Someone is spying on us.

Someone is watching.

…It’s the father.

Now, as weirded out as I was — with every instinct screaming at me to run — one thought drowned out everything else:

They were after my daughter.

That was all I needed to know.

I turned the corner into her room, gun in hand, my whole body trembling.

“What do you want with my little girl?” I shouted.

My voice cracked — fear and rage colliding.

“What are you? What the hell are you? Get the hell out of my daughter’s room!”

The three orbs froze.

Just stopped — mid-glide — suspended in air.

A standoff. Me and them. Holding.

The air got heavier. The room felt smaller. I could hear my heart thundering in my ears.

Then… they moved.

Each orb began to ripple. Vibrate. And in the exact same instant, they burst open — not with sound, but with vision.

And what I saw…

What I saw in each of them…

Terrified me to my core.

They were soulless things.

Pitiful things.

Evil, wrapped in a shell of light.

I didn’t just see them — I felt them. Their presence crawled across my skin, coiled around my spine, pressed into my chest like invisible hands.

And then they screamed.

Not with mouths, but with something deeper — like three unholy banshees shrieking straight into my soul.

I screamed back.

The gun went off.

The flash lit up the room — a single, blinding second of chaos and terror.

Then they scattered.

Whatever the hell they were, they fled — streaks of light darting through the bedroom window like smoke caught in wind. No glass broke. They passed through it like water.

I ran to the window just in time to see them cross the street in jagged, zigzag motion, then vanish into the broken entrance of an abandoned storefront — part of a run-down strip mall barely standing a block away.

Later, we told the cops I fired the gun to scare off an intruder — some creep peeping through my daughter’s bedroom window.

Tanya backed up the story without missing a beat, and it wasn’t hard to see that something had shaken Makeda badly.

I gave them the name of her teacher, Mrs. Stranton, to confirm something had been bothering her lately. That seemed to satisfy the authorities.

As for Makeda…

She told us she’d seen the lights wandering the streets at night. And one evening, they spotted her watching from the window. That’s when they came up close — and asked if they could come in.

And once they had the invite, they started showing up every night…

Just to talk.

“They said they were lonely,” Makeda told us. “They said they just wanted to play.”

At first, she said they were nice. Gentle. Curious.

But then they started pushing.

They wanted her to sneak out — to go to the storefront they’d come from.

“We want to show you something,” they kept saying.

And when she said no…

They stopped being nice.

The last straw came when they said something they should never have known.

“They told me Mommy was in the store. That she was waiting for me.”

Makeda’s voice trembled when she said it.

That’s when my baby girl knew they were up to no good.

“You told me Mommy was in heaven, Daddy. That I’d see her again when I got there,” she said, looking me dead in the eyes.

“So when they said she was in the store… I knew they were bad.

Because my Daddy would never lie to me.”

I pulled her close.

“No, baby girl. Daddy will never lie to you.”

So when those things played the “Your mom is waiting” card, and Makeda didn’t fall for it…

That’s when they got scary.

And now…

Now the only question left was what we were going to do about it.

Well, I’ll tell you this:

My daughter sleeps in her own bed every night now.

No more orbs.

No more whispers.

No more evil spirits pretending to be lonely lights.

And I’ll also tell you…

A mysterious fire burned that storefront to the damn ground.

The fire department fought like hell to keep the whole block from going up — but they managed to keep the damage contained.

Police said it was deliberate. Arson.

And all I’ve got to say to that is:

I would — and will — do anything and everything to keep my baby girl happy.

Evil spirit or not.

Remember that.

Remember that.