This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/hunteryumi on 2024-10-24 21:48:09+00:00.

The first time I heard about the kids, I thought it was just another one of those small-town ghost storiesᅳsomething people use to scare tourists or the occasional curious college kid passing through. But I’m not a tourist. I’ve lived in this town all my life, so when I got hired to babysit for the Croft family, I didn’t give a single shit about those old rumors. The money was good, and I needed cash.

The Crofts lived in a big, old Victorian house just outside the town limits, surrounded by nothing but woods. I got there around six; Mr. and Mrs. Croft had already left, but they left instructions: “Keep them inside after dark. Don’t open the windows. Don’t feed them after 7 PM. If they cry… don’t go upstairs.”

Alright, so that was my first red flag. But hell, I’ve had some weird gigs beforeᅳrich people are always a little off, right? The kids, Emma and Finn, were quiet but cute. We played some board games, ate pizza, typical babysitting shit. I kept checking the clock, though. Six thirty… six forty-five… As seven approached, I felt this weird itch in my brain, like something wasn’t quite right. That’s when Finn asked for a snack.

“Nope, kitchen’s closed,” I told him.

His face twisted into something… strange. Like a mask. Not a temper tantrumᅳhe didn’t scream or cryᅳjust this blank, eerie stare. Emma, who had been so quiet, whispered, “It’s almost time.”

My stomach knotted up. “Time for what?”

“You’ll see,” she said, smiling like she knew something I didn’t.

I checked the clock. 7:01 PM. That’s when the crying started.

It came from upstairs.

Soft at firstᅳjust a whimpering. The sound of a child, maybe younger than Emma or Finn, but I knew they didn’t have any other kids. I was about to brush it off when Finn stood up and said, “Don’t go upstairs.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” I muttered, but the crying got louder. Louder. Now it wasn’t just crying. It was screaming. Pain-filled, blood-curdling screams that echoed through the house like something was being torn apart.

“I’m calling your parents,” I said, grabbing my phone.

Emma shook her head, her face pale. “It won’t help. It never helps.”

My hands were shaking as I dialed, but before the call could even connect, the phone died. Screen black. No signal. Nothing. The lights flickered, dimmed, then went out altogether. The only light now came from the moon filtering through the thick, old curtains.

The crying was unbearable now, almost like it was inside my skull, drilling through my brain. I turned to the kids, ready to make a run for it, when I noticed something that nearly stopped my heart.

Their shadows.

They weren’t moving.

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. The kids were standing still, but their shadows… they were shifting. Twisting, distorting, stretching across the walls like something was crawling out of them, trying to claw its way free.

And then I realized it wasn’t their shadows. It was something else. Something inside them.

“You need to go,” Emma said, her voice suddenly deep, like something ancient and hungry was speaking through her.

The thing in her shadow started to peel itself away from her feet, dragging its way toward me with sharp, skeletal fingers. I ranᅳstumbling, crashing into furnitureᅳmy heartbeat drowning out the screams that were coming from everywhere now. Upstairs, downstairs, inside the walls.

I don’t know how, but I made it to the front door. It wouldn’t open. The lock twisted, but the door didn’t budge. From the corner of my eye, I saw Emma and Finnᅳstill standing there, watching. Their shadows now full, standing separate from them, crawling toward me on all fours like some grotesque animals.

They were smiling.

Something slammed against the door, hard enough to crack the wood. The crying from upstairs grew louderᅳthis horrible, shrill voice screaming over and over again: “Don’t leave me!”

I did the only thing I couldᅳI ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. The kidsᅳtheir shadowsᅳwere close now. Almost touching me. They moved unnaturally, joints bending backward, bones cracking and popping as they crawled closer.

I screamed, swinging the knife wildly. It didn’t matter; they kept coming, their faces twisting and contorting into expressions no human should ever make.

Then everything went silent.

No crying. No footsteps. Just silence.

I backed into the corner, holding the knife like it was going to save me from whatever the fuck these things were. Then Finn, or what was left of him, spoke: “You should’ve listened.”

Suddenly, the lights flickered back on. The shadows were gone. The kids stood there, normal as ever, staring at me like I was the freak.

I didn’t wait for the Crofts to come home. I ran. I don’t even remember grabbing my stuff.

Later that night, I checked the town records. Emma and Finn Croft died in a fire five years ago. The house? Burned down with them in it.

So, who the fuck did I just babysit?