I heard my son’s voice coming from his room, saying, “Mom, can you turn off the light?” Without thinking, I switched it off. As I got back to bed, I realized… my son wasn’t home; he was on a camping trip. I rushed to his room and froze—it was empty.

I was sure I had heard his voice, or at least someone speaking in a sleepy tone. When I told my husband, he just laughed and said it was probably all in my head, but I know what I heard. That moment still freaks me out.

That night, as I lay in bed, trying to convince myself it was all just stress and sleep deprivation, I heard the sound again—the same soft, sleepy voice calling, “Mom?” This time, my heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst. My husband, still half-asleep, muttered something, unfazed, but I knew I couldn’t ignore it.

Summoning every bit of courage, I got up, flashlight in hand, and walked toward my son’s room. The door, which I had closed, was open just a crack.

The air inside was frigid, and shadows stretched longer than they should have, almost reaching out for me. My hands trembled as I called out softly, “Is anyone there?”

Silence answered me. But then, just as I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of something—a small, shadowy figure near the corner of the bed. It vanished as soon as my flashlight touched it. I backed out of the room, my mind racing, unsure if I should believe what I’d just seen.

I still don’t know what happened that night. My son came back the next day, and life returned to normal, but sometimes, in the quiet moments, I think I hear that voice again. And every time, it sends a shiver down my spine.