Mommy's Little Boy

It was ten at night in Charlotte, North Carolina. An eight-year-old boy, Tommy Norton, sat on the sidewalk edge on Abigail Glen Drive. His head tilted towards his hands as he stared at the blood dripping onto the asphalt. He started to choke up, hearing a rumbling noise in his right ear as the detective repeated a question.

"Hey, what the hell happened in there?" he asked.

The little boy looked up at him, fighting back the tears. The detective pressed on him more insistently this time.

" What happened?"

The boy sniffled and wiped his tears on his Charlotte Hornets jersey before saying,

"Some older kids dared my best friend and me to go inside the abandoned house . . . but the house wasn't abandoned."

Then there was a moment of awkward silence between him and the detective. Aggravated, the detective grabbed his arms to get his full attention and said,

"Listen to me, I don't have time for this. A dead eight-year-old boy lies in that house. You’re still alive with someone else’s blood. That makes you a suspect. Now, if you don't tell me who did this, you're going to juvenile prison. Is that what you want, Tommy?"

Tommy shook his head as he continued.

"There was this woman . . . she called herself a psychic, but she was more than that. We were both sitting in her living room. She had all sorts of things around her."

"Like what?" the detective replied.

Tommy's eyes began to water as he glanced up at the detective with an intense stare.

"Headless dolls and white sand. She asked us to look into our future, and we said yes, but to do so, we had to drink a strange liquid."

He then burst into laughter, rocking back and forth, and said:

"That's when things turned into the worst nightmare."

The detective's brows furrowed. He was fully immersed in the remark and asked,

" Like how?"

Tommy stared back at him and said,

"I can't tell you how, but I can bring you to where it all happened."

He stood up from the sidewalk and walked past the detective. Then, he headed toward the abandoned house, turning back to face him with a moment of hesitation.

"Well, are you coming or not, detective?"

He was unsure whether to call for backup, watching from a distance as the little boy went into the house. He decided to do it anyway as he strolled toward the entrance, heart pounding as he got closer to the door. He pulled his gun out of his holster, and a sharp squeal occurred as he opened the door with his foot.

The atmosphere inside the house felt alarming; it was nothing but pure darkness. The wooden floorboards groaned beneath his feet.

Clack. Creak. Clack.

He passed through the living room, searching for Tommy. He could not find him anywhere; concern crept into the detective's mind as he began calling his name.

"Tommy, where are you?"

"I'm over here, detective; come join us."

The detective raised his eyebrows at Tommy’s answer. It turned into a fun game for him. He kept saying, "I'm over here, detective; come join us," in a playful rhythm. The detective noticed that Tommy's voice was coming from the second floor.

Tommy kept talking while the detective sneaked upstairs. He was quiet when he finally reached the top of the stairs. Tommy's playful taunting was coming from the master bedroom. The room was dark, so he pulled out his flashlight, pointing it toward the bedroom.

He passed through the doorway to a room with a desk, a king-size mattress, and a dresser. He saw something on the dresser. He pointed his flashlight at it as he got closer. It was headless dolls and white sand that Tommy had mentioned earlier. He picked up a headless doll and looked at it closely. Then, Tommy suddenly appeared.

"You finally found me, Detective."

The detective spun around, snapping his flashlight toward him. The little boy stood motionless inside the empty closet as he came out of it and said,

"The woman is here; would you like to see her?"

The look on the little boy's face was frightening. Sweat dripped from the detective's forehead. His chest rose and fell with rapid movement, swallowing hard before finally speaking.

"Where is she, Tommy?"

Tommy stared back at him and replied.

"She is downstairs in the kitchen."

Tommy walked to the stairs. The detective trailed behind, holding his gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. When they arrived, she was there. She sat with headless dolls and a strange liquid she was making, but he noticed she wasn't alone. His eyes widened. His face went pale as he saw the little boy's best friend, who someone had murdered, now standing alive and well. The three of them stared while he was freaking out. She finally barged into the conversation.

"Well, this must be a shock for you, detective. Please have a seat."

The detective was at a loss for words.

"I-I... put you in a body bag... You had no pulse."

He kept stammering, the words catching in his throat as he tried to continue.

"H-How is this possible?"

The woman gazes at the two boys, caressing both of their faces, and says:

"Yeah, he gets no pulse from his mama; both of them do."

The detective froze, processing her comment before finally speaking.

"You've been lying to me all this time? You said she was a psychic, but she was actually your mother."

The detective's jaw tightened, letting out a slow sigh of irritation.

"So you did all this to lure me into this abandoned house?" he snapped. "Why? What was the point of that?"

She stared at him and replied.

"My father chose you."

"Who’s your father, and what did he choose me for?" he replied.

The three of them burst into laughter as she looked at him and said,

"To be my husband."

The detective laughed and looked back at her, replying.

"Yeah, and how are you going to do that?"

She got up from her seat, walking past her two boys as she got closer to him. The detective felt threatened, holding his gun up while pointing it at her.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll shoot in self-defense. Now tell me who your father is."

She hesitated to reply but decided to do it anyway.

"The devil himself, babe, and you see there's no way of getting out of this. You see, once you step into this house, there's no getting out. Trust me, a lot of men have tried but failed to succeed."

She then moved closer to him, her boys surrounding the detective as she continued.

"So you can accept my proposal or suffer the consequences."

He fired shots at the three of them. His eyes widened in shock. The bullets had no effect. Instead, they only grew angrier. In the end, it all blurred for the detective, fading from view.

Outside the abandoned house, the detective captain walked up to his partner. His partner stood in front of the coroner's van.

"Hey, Detective Sullen. Have you seen Detective Leblanc? He was supposed to give me the report on the kid he interviewed."

Detective Sullen replied.

"Yeah, I think he took the little boy down to the station to ask more questions."

"Okay, well, tell him to have that report on my desk by the morning," he said.

"Yes, sir, I'll let him know ASAP," she said.

Passing right by the coroner's van, no one notices the dead boy inside is gone. All that’s left is an empty body bag.