Goo Goo Goga

The Mallory family has been flipping houses for about three of the six years they have been married. Ada and Noah, along with their children, five-year-old N.J. (Noah Jr.) and eleven-month-old Allie, have their routine down. Ada searches online social media networks for houses for sale, mostly from homeowners trying to beat foreclosure, and Noah makes the deal.

During their first year together, Noah’s great-uncle Lomax left him a small fortune, and Ada, an interior designer by trade, has always wanted to flip houses. They took the opportunity and a pile of inheritance money and made their dreams come true.

As Noah drove his family down the long, snow-covered single-lane dirt road, a blood-curdling scream was heard from the back seat of their all-electric cybercar.

“Hold on, tiny dancer, we are almost at the new house.”

“She wants a bottle, babe,” Ada said as she pulled her red and blonde mixed hair into a ponytail. “I can’t believe this place comes fully furnished when we only paid sixty-eight for it.”

“It's been empty for six months. Reggie from the seller Marketplace said his dad, the original owner, didn’t even bother cleaning up before ditching the mortgage.”

“Momma, Allie wants a baba.”

“I know N.J. Thank you for speaking for Sis-Sis. You’re such a good big brother.”

Noah pulled up to a red barn-style house. It was much bigger than they anticipated, and the dutiful father knew they had their work cut out for them.

“Daddy, look.” Black-haired N.J., wearing his favorite blue and white samurai raccoon pajamas, pointed up to the top-right window of the surprisingly well-maintained farmhouse.

“Oh, that’s odd. The light is on. I thought you said Reggie never stepped foot inside after his dad split.”

“He didn’t,” Ada said. I wonder who has been carrying a six-month electric bill with one light left on. Pretty wild that he left the house without even turning the light off. It looks like it's only that room that’s been left on.”

“Goo goo, goga.”

“Momma, Sis-Sis said a new word. Goga!”

“Yay, Allie! You ready to eat? Let’s go inside and take a look, everybody.”

“Attention, Mallory family! This is the official end to the summer of ’25 fun fest.” Noah carried his tired son from the car and set him on the front porch’s grey and brown rocking chair as he attempted to unlock the front door.

The smell of humid summer woods filled the air as the key wouldn’t turn in the lock. “Weird, it's already unlocked. Did we really leave this open for the entire sixteen-day camping trip?”

“Daddy, you and Momma said we were only staying in this house until my birthday. My birthday was…one…two…” N.J. looked down at his fingers, attempting to count the three months since his birthday.

“Three, sport, and yeah, we were meant to leave, but with the state of this economy and tariffs on Canadian lumber, it's hard to get the supplies we need to fix up this old house. Not that it needs much work, but your mother insists on a full kitchen remodel.”

“I can hear you.” Ada pushed her way past the pile of camping gear on the ground in front of the stainless-steel truck. “Not only did we leave the house unlocked, but if you look up, we also left the light on, just like the first day we moved in.”

A voice was heard from the back seat. “Goga. GO-GA!”

“Momma, Sis-Sis said ‘goga’ again.”

“I know, honey, she says it all the time. Usually, when something weird happens.”

Ada remembers the last time she said it, and the cabinet in the kitchen fell over. She lost sixty antique plates. “Anyways, let’s get inside and have some dinner.”

“Goga, goga, Momma, up…goo goo goga.”

“We know, baby, goga. Hold still while I change this stinky dipey.”

The Mallorys spent far too long on this flip than they were comfortable with. They often discussed just selling the farmhouse as is when the banging in the attic began months ago. Noah must have checked dozens of times when a loud crash was heard in the house. Each time, the baby raised her arms and said, "Goga."

This time was different. A chill hung in the air, fog draped the dark, shadowy night, and a smell arose from upstairs. Instead of a woodsy, homey scent, the house reeked of rotten garbage and raw sewage.

Deciding to investigate in the morning, Noah put the baby to bed as Ada sat, covered, in their master suite next door, with N.J. at her feet.

*Crash* *Bang* *Crack*

A window shattering was heard close by. “That was Allie’s room,” Noah said.

“Goga,” a child screamed.

“Yes, Allie, goga. I…”

“Babe, that wasn’t Allie. N.J., honey, what's wrong?”

N.J. was standing at the bottom of the bed, pointing to the wall separating the bedrooms.

“Goga.”

“I am going in there to check out the room. N.J., not funny.”

Just then, the baby started screaming. “GOGA, GOGA, GOGA!”

“Noah, get in there! Our baby!”

Noah, not bothering to put his slippers on, ran across the cold hardwood floor and slid into the doorframe.

“Allie!” he shouted as he disappeared through the entry and took a right.

Silence fell over the house as Ada sat holding her son. His hand raised again, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “Goga.”

“Stop saying that, Noah Mallory Jr. Come on, we are gonna check on your dad. NOAH!”

No answer returned as Ada took N.J. by the hand and led him into Allie’s room. When she entered, she saw Noah, eyes glazed over, standing perfectly still with a raised hand.

“Goga,” he said, pointing behind her.

Ada began to turn around as the two children both said, “Goga.”

The lights flickered and then dimmed, as if the electrical strain on the old house was too much for the system. Looking behind her stood a hideous red-and-yellow demon with green-radiating eyes and long, crooked, chipped fangs dripping with blood. Its lanky, razor-clawed arms reached out for the Mallory family as it growled the word, “Goga.”