The Midnight Intruder

My son once said, “Mommy, a big man comes to my room at night. Tell him to go.” I brushed it off. Weeks later, I woke up at 3 a.m. to a noise coming from his room. I ran there and found the window wide open, curtains flapping in the wind. My heart raced

as I scanned the room—nothing seemed out of place, but the air felt heavy, wrong. I locked the window, checked every corner, and stayed by his side until

morning. The next day, I installed a security system and cameras. That night, the footage showed a shadowy figure trying the window again, but the alarm scared them off. I called the police, and they patrolled the area for weeks. No one came back. My son never mentioned the “big man” again, but I still sleep with one eye open, knowing how close we came to danger.