Submitted by: Aaron, 35
Our daughter was six months old when this happened.
At 3:30 one morning, I woke to my wife’s voice coming through the baby monitor.
She was singing the lullaby she always used when our daughter cried.
I reached across the bed.
My wife, Rebecca, was asleep beside me.
For several seconds, I could not understand what I was hearing.
Then the singing stopped.
A whisper came through the monitor.
“She’s awake.”
Rebecca opened her eyes.
We both stared at the screen.
The camera showed the nursery in night-vision mode. Our daughter was standing upright in her cot.
She was too young to stand.
Her hands gripped the rail, and she was looking toward the corner beside the wardrobe.
Rebecca sat up.
On the monitor, something moved in that corner.
It was tall and narrow, darker than the rest of the room.
Then Rebecca’s voice spoke again.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
Our daughter began lifting one leg over the cot rail.
I ran.
The nursery was across the hall, but when I reached it, the door would not open. Something heavy seemed to be pressing against it from the other side.
I threw my shoulder into the door until it moved.
Our daughter was lying in the cot, crying.
The corner was empty.
The wardrobe door stood open.
Rebecca checked the monitor recording.
It showed me entering the room.
But several seconds before I opened the door, another figure walked past the camera.
It looked like Rebecca.
The figure approached the cot, lifted our daughter and carried her out of frame.
At the same moment, the real Rebecca appeared in the doorway behind me.
The recording then jumped.
Our daughter was suddenly back in the cot.
We replaced the monitor the following day.
The same thing happened with the new one.
At exactly 3:30, Rebecca’s voice whispered:
“She remembers me.”
We disconnected every camera and moved our daughter into our bedroom.
For months, nothing happened.
Then, shortly after her second birthday, our daughter pointed toward the empty nursery.
“Mummy is in there,” she said.
Rebecca was standing beside her.
I asked which mummy she meant.
Our daughter frowned as though the answer were obvious.
“The one who watches me sleep.”
Editorial note: This is an original fictional horror story presented in a realistic user-submission style. It is not a verified eyewitness account.