The day is ending much as it started: dry, warm - but not too unbearably so - a slight wind. In a quiet housing district within Spice City, a young couple sneaks out from their infant’s room, as he peacefully sleeps. The nursery window stays ajar - the residence’s air conditioning having sputtered and quit on the family earlier in the day, unable to be repaired until at least a few days.
The child, just over a year of age, lays snuggled in his favorite blanket, a soft stuffed cat placed lovingly beside him. He does not hear the wind as it rattles the window, whistling as it goes on its way. He doesn’t hear the footsteps of a passerby outside. Nor said footsteps stop. The frantic clawing. The scrambling. The groan of the window as it’s forced to widen. The thud as a large form drops into the room.
There is a man in the nursery now, a red cap covering his head, and a red raincoat draped over his slight form. A small cry comes from within his coat - where one of his arms is tucked away - which he shushes as he approaches the crib, observing the sleeping infant. With a nasty grin, sharp teeth on display, he reaches down with a gnarled hand - excessively hairy on the back, nails like claws - and plucks it from its bed by the blanket its swaddled in.
His other hand comes out from his coat, and places down something else. Another child, a different sort, closely resembling the child the man just grabbed. The new child kicks around, fussing, before finding the stuffed toy and holding on. This seems to calm it down, luckily - he does not wish to alert the parents.
On his way back to the window, he thinks about his prize. A prank’s a prank, but sometimes they end up with a little more. This boy, this human, will make a fine servant, or bargaining chip if something else piques his interest. He glances down at his new charge, and nearly stumbles when he sees dark eyes looking back. It hadn’t occurred to him that this child could have woken, as silent as it was.
It’s almost as if the kid is thinking, but they aren’t supposed to do that for some time still - that’s why it’s always best to get them young before the thinking turns into remembering.
The child twitches, before its face scrunches up. He frantically tries to cover its mouth, get to the window quick before it can alert its parents, but something happens. Something that he’s never dealt with before. He can’t move his hand to the child’s mouth, and it lets out a wretched noise. Only slightly shaken, the man makes a dash for the window, until he trips - but when he checks, he cannot see what he could have tripped over.
There’s noise coming from beyond the door - the parents are returning, and the man curses, doing his best to get his feet under him once again. He plans to simply toss the child outside before jumping out himself, but as he goes to do so the child seems to become extremely heavy, pulling his arms down as he strains against the sudden weight.
The baby’s hair is drifting, like it’s underwater, and that’s when the realization hits him.
It’s not just an inert human child. It’s special. With a glance to the door, he gives one last effort to pull this child to the window, before something in his back pops, and he gives up, turning tail and jumping from the second story window.
The mother is the one who comes through the door first, followed closely by her husband.
Their child is bawling, tears streaming down his face as he floats a half meter off the ground, blanket slightly loosened off his small form. His mom murmurs sweet nothings to him, bending down to wrap her arms under him, and easily lifting herself and her child as she returns to full height.
Her husband comes up next to her, making a silly face that their child catches, sobbing interrupted by a giggle. He keeps this up, as the mother strokes the baby’s back. Soon enough, they successfully calm him, and make to put him back to bed.
Seeing a second child in place of where theirs was not too long ago is stunning; neither know what to do. The other child is fitful as he sleeps, and the husband reaches down to pick him up, much to the mother’s surprise.
This wakens the child, who seems to be on the verge of crying, but the husband pulls his tricks once again, stretching his face in odd ways until he has the child laughing.
They’re not sure what to do. Perhaps they’ll keep an eye out for a missing child report, but they both seem to know there won’t be one. A missing child doesn’t just show up in the middle of the night like this.
The mother sees the window, more ajar than it was.
She walks over and closes it.
