Eyes In The Night

He's out to get me

"Deacon, come on, time for bed." John pleads with his eight year old son. He has been trying to get him to go to bed for the past forty-five minutes, but he insists on one more minute playing Fortnite. He spends all day playing this game and John still doesn't even know what a Fortnite is.

"You just fight people." Is the only thing Deacon would tell him. That's not the explanation he wanted but probably the best one he was going to get out of his kid.

"Now, if your mother were here, what would you do right now?" John asked.

"I would go to bed." Deacon promptly replied still playing his game.

"Okay, and so why is it that you will listen to her, and not me?"

"Because mom will read me a story when I go to bed."

"So if I read you a story, will you go to bed?"

"Only if it's a good one!" Deacon finally looked up from his game. John sighed relieving in this small victory.

John's wife was working nights this week at the hospital, so he was in charge of taking care of everything. She failed to mention their son was becoming more problematic and stubborn when it comes to going to bed. He fought with him for hours the first couple days until he wore himself out and fell asleep on the couch.

They both went upstairs to his room when his son stopped at his door.

"What's wrong Deac?" John asked.

"You're going to read me a story, right?" Deacon looked up to his dad.

"That's what I'm here for. You promised to go to bed if I read to you."

"Okay." His son simply said and slowly walked in.

John followed into his room wondering if it was a normal thing for an eight and half year old to still want someone to read to them before bed. He hadn't asked him this question. He just wants to get him off to dream land and join him there once he gets into his own bed.

John read him a book from the bookshelf. His son listened, sitting up on his bed giving him his full undivided attention to the story he's probably heard a hundred times.

"Can you read another dad?" Deacon didn't seem any less energetic than before. His father sighed heavy again.

"Deac, what's going on? I used to put you to bed so easily before. I mean books? You never cared about a bedtime story before. In fact, you said they were for babies."

"Mom would read me three stories before bed." Deacon said under his breath with folded arms.

"Three? Do you have insomnia?"

"Insomna what?"

"Nothing, never mind. But three stories is a bit too much bud. Why not try to close your eyes and dream about the other stories." John returned the book to the shelf.

"What are you doing?" Deacon asked.

"I'm letting you go to bed. I need to get some rest too." He told him as he headed for the door.

"Dad, don't go!" His son shouted.

"Why? What's wrong?" John walked back over to his bed. Deacon's eyes were wide and filed with terror. He looked up to him then turned to look out the window.

"Is something outside?"

"Dad, don't go. He'll get me."

"Who will get you? A ghost? The boogie man? Pennywise?" His father joked a bit not expecting him to say something like that.