Since becoming a mother, I’ve witnessed strange occurrences. At first I thought it was just me but then I started talking to other moms who’d had eerily similar experiences:
“Every time I open the photo gallery on my phone, it’s full of pictures of the same blurry face. It doesn’t matter how many times I delete them, they always reappear.”
“Every day, random objects from every room of my house seem to grow legs and appear in my living room. Like Annabelle, only way more annoying and with things like spatulas and Dollar Store garbage.”

That’s when I decided to begin documenting what was happening.

Day 1
I was executing my favorite activity of the day, picking up everyone else’s shit, when I came across them – scattered pages of printer paper with menacing scribbles of eyeless people surrounded by a sea of red. Upstairs I could hear doors slamming shut, open, shut, open, shut and lights flickering on and off. Our electric bill was going to be a fucking nightmare.

Day 2
I made a fresh pot of coffee but every time I’d set down a cup it would be cold by the time it reached my lips. I put it in the microwave and tried again, same thing. Why? Why was this creature going after the things I loved? That’s when I heard something truly horrifying, an entire bin of Lego I’d literally just picked up being dumped out in the next room. What kind of monster was I dealing with?

Day 3
I caught a glimpse of myself at the end of the week and gasped. I looked like death warmed over. A real bag of dicks, I tell you. This thing would not break me.

The house had been quiet for a while. It was then or never. Quickly, I peeled off my yoga pants, turned the shower on and jumped in. Every couple of minutes I swore I heard screaming and I’d jump out sopping wet. Nothing.

The entity was getting to my head.

Day 4
The next day was unrelenting. My spirit had been broken. I’d been woken up three times the night before by the eerie sensation that I was being watched.

I trudged into the kitchen to make my coffee and stopped dead in my tracks. Every single cupboard door was open. I swung around at the sound of laughter to find red finger paint hand-prints all over the walls. I had to get away from here.

Quickly, I grabbed a candy bar from my stress eating rations and started sprinting. Greasy lip, cheek, and hand prints covered every mirror and window I passed. I tripped on a pile of Nerf bullets. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” I cried weakly to myself as I pushed myself back up.

“Mommy?” a voice called behind me. I ran up the stairs, the voice growing closer, louder, and more menacing.

I closed the closet door behind me and hid inside a pile of dirty laundry. Slowly, I began to unwrap my candy bar. The crinkling amplified 10x louder than normal. Even chocolate was against me. Et tu, Bruti?

The doorknob began to turn and then turned back because the beast was still perfecting its motor skills. It turned again, this time successfully.

“Mommy, can I have another snack?”

Later That Day:
“Honey?” my husband called, arriving home from work. “Why is the house a mess?”

He was never seen or heard from again.