Stillborn (Pt. 1)

"Hush little one. It is time for bed," her soft voice echoes through the room, almost comforting, "Hush now. Hush. Off to sleep with you my love." She looks down at her baby, rocking the crib softly. "sleep love, now sleep. Go to sleep."

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"I'll be fine mom. I've lived alone before. Nothing has changed." He holds his phone up to his ear and stumbles to get the key in the lock.

"But things have changed, Grant. Your-" He sighs and opens the door to his new apartment.

"Mom. I'll be fine. I'm going to bed. I'll call you in the morning." He hangs up and puts his phone on the kitchen counter. He shifts through the maze of boxes and finds his way to his bedroom. Plopping down on the bed, he lays down and tries to fall asleep.

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"Hush. My sweet sweet baby. Hush." She smiles and rubs her baby's head gently. She hugs him close and rocks him back and forth.

"I love you dear..."

----

"Time to get up." His mother pulls back the curtains, letting the light in.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" He sits up.

"You gave me a key. Remember?" She smiles.

"Yeah. But why are you here?" She frowns and sits on the edge of the bed.

"I'm worried about you. Your wife passed away. And your baby, my grandson, never even took a breath. Excuse me for trying to be a mother." He sighs and hugs her.

"Thanks, but I'm fine. I'm going to therapy." He wrinkles his nose uncomfortably, "What are you making? It smells terrible."

"I noticed that when I came over. Maybe there's a box of food you forgot to unpack. I lit a candle. Hopefully that helps." She smiles and stands up.

"I should talk to the landlord about that." He sighs and gets up.

"Definitly. Talk to him about the dishwasher as well. If I know you, and I do, you are going to need a working one. My lazy son." She smiles and looks up at her son, "Alright then. I guess I'll get going."

"Alright Ma. Thanks for stopping by." He smiles and looks down at his mother.

She sighs softly and puts a hand on his shoulder, "Grant, if you need anything... Please call me." She pecks his forehead and leaves.

"Bye mom." He watches her leave and locks the door behind her, "Alright. Time to unpack..." He sighs to himself and starts rummaging through the boxes.

-----

"He isn't breathing! Why isn't he breathing?" She sobs into her baby's corpse.

"Ma'am. I'm so sorry. We can take him..." The doctor tries his best to comfort the frail woman infront of him.

"NO!" She screams and pulls away from the man, "Don't touch us!" She cries and whispers to the blue creature in her arms.

"Ma'am—" The doctor tries again.

"Just leave!" She screams and curls up on the bloody bed.

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"That is pretty bad. I'll get someone in to check that out. It's probably just a squirel or something got caught in the wall." The landlord sighs and adds to his list.

"And the dishwasher?" Grant looks through the wave of boxes in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'll have to get a new one. It'll be a while before I can get it. Maybe a week or two. Is that alright with you?" The landlord looks down at his clip board then back up at Grant.

"Yeah. Sounds good." He nods and thanks the landlord before showing him out. He goes back to unpacking.

Later that night as Grant is finishing his last box, he hears a strange noise.

Whispering. He looks up from the books he's sorting.

"Hello? Ma, is that you?" The whispering stops and he shrugs it off. He starts putting the books on the shelf.

"Grant," an unfamiliar female voice calls out to him.

"Hello? Mom?" He stands up and walks to his bedroom door. He looks out into the hallway.

"Grant," the voice calls to him again. As he slowly walks down the hallway towards the living room, a shadow darts from the kitchen into the bathroom. He jumps back slightly and runs back into his room, shutting the door behind him. He grabs his baseball bat from the closet and clutches his phone in his hand tightly. Slowly, he cracks the door open. The light from the previously dark bathroom leaks into the hallway. The shadow of a small human stands still against the light. He holds his bat in front of him and slowly inches towards the bathroom.

"Who's there?" he calls out, "Don't move. I've called the police and I have a weapon." He reaches just outside the door. Slowly, he turns the corner stands in the doorway. The bathroom is empty. He frowns and looks down at the floor. Two muddy foot prints stand in front of his face.

"Grant." The voice calls out again. A door creaks open. Grant runs into the living room. As he does this, the front door slams shut. He runs up and locks it, sliding the chain into place. He sighs in relief and turns off all of the lights.

"Bed time." He goes into his room and shuts the door. He plops down on bed and falls asleep.