Maybeâjust maybeâsheâll trade the key to the cage for the doll that looks like me.
Kids. You never know what theyâre going to do.
SHADOW CHILDREN
â¼ HEATHER BREWER â¼
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G ood night, Jon.â Dax pulled the covers over his little brotherâs chest. Jon was wearing his favorite pajamas again, despite the hour-long argument that flannel wasnât exactly a summer-weight fabric and the buttons were on the verge of falling off. Surrendering with a sigh, Dax walked out of the room, flipping the light switch as he went. Not a second later, Jonâs Batman night-light went out, which instantly sparked whining from the six-year-old.
âDax, my night-light! I canât sleep without my night-light. The shadows will get me!â
Dax sighed again, silently counting the seconds until Mom and Dad would be home. It was like this every night. John would whine to Mom or Dad and theyâd make sure his night-light was working or that the hall light was on, anything to placate Jonâs irrational fear of things that werenât really lurking in the shadows, waiting to snatch him away. Only tonight, it was Dax who was left to placate him. Bad enough he had to miss out on Janieâs party to babysit his little brother, but now he was also expected to cater to Jonâs ridiculous fear of the dark. âIâll grab you a flashlight, Jon. Just give me a second.â
It was all he could do to block out Jonâs blubbering as he walked into the kitchen. He pulled the drawer open and rummaged around. A flashlight had to be in there somewhere.
âDax, hurry! The shadows!â
Dax found a couple of flashlights and picked one up, tapping it gently against his chin. Maybe it would be better if he did them all a favor and showed Jon that there were no such things as monsters under your bed, nothing at all lurking in the pitch-black night. If he let Jon cry it out just for one night, maybe the kid would grow up and stop being such a baby. Maybe then babysitting him without pay and missing out on the party of the year wouldnât be so bad. Dax mulled this over for a moment, blocking out the whimpers from down the hall. âItâs just the dark, Jon. Thereâs nothing in it that isnât there in the daytime.â
Jon screamed. And it wasnât one of those little-brat screams for attention. He sounded terrified. Like his life depended on someone hearing and responding to his terrified shriek.
Dax bolted back to the bedroom and stared in shocked disbelief.
A long, dark shadow was looming over the bed. But it wasnât an ordinary shadow. It was darker than the rest of the room, and moved of its own free will. It was a creature made of shadows. It was alive. Part of it whipped forward and wrapped around Jonâs ankle. Jon cried, âHelp me, Dax!â
The shadow monster was pulling Jon off the bed, but Dax was frozen in place, staring at this thing that couldnât possibly exist. Jon was flailing, tears streaming down his cheeks. Breaking free from his trance, Dax clutched his brotherâs wrist, but he was hit in the chest and thrown against the wall. Pain bolted through Daxâs back as he hit the wall and crumpled to the floor. He struggled to sit up again, but a tentacle of the shadow monster stood in front of him, defying him to move. There were no eyes or mouth, but somehow Dax knew that the thing was looking at him. He swore he heard a growl, but it had no mouth, no substance. The shadow monster lurched back and ripped Daxâs brother free of his covers.
Dax ran forward and grabbed Jon by the ankle. They both flew through the air and into the closet. The door slammed shut, sealing them in pitch-black.
A sound caught his attention, like a large amount of sand falling through a grainy hourglass. It was coming from the floor. Dax looked down. The floor was moving. It swirled around his feet; the sandlike substance of