Rules for Babysitting the Walkers’ Kid
Babysitting gigs usually suck, but when the Walkers offered me $500 for just one night, I didn’t even hesitate. Everyone in town whispered about their house, how it sat alone at the edge of the woods, how no one ever saw them during the day. But I wasn’t about to turn down that kind of money.
Mrs. Walker was waiting at the door when I arrived. She was pale, almost sickly-looking, with dark circles under her eyes. Mr. Walker stood behind her, his expression unreadable. Neither of them spoke much—just handed me a typed list of rules.
"Follow these exactly," Mrs. Walker said. "No exceptions."
I smirked, thinking they were just paranoid parents. “Yeah, yeah, got it.”
Mrs. Walker’s lips twitched. “Most say that.”
Then they left.
And I was alone with Tommy.
Rules for Babysitting Tommy
Tommy goes to bed at 8:00 PM sharp. Not a minute later. Do not let him stall.
If he asks you to check under the bed or in the closet, say no. He knows what’s there.
The baby monitor must remain on at all times. If you hear static, do not go into his room.
If Tommy knocks on his bedroom door after bedtime, do not open it. Tell him, “Go back to sleep.” No matter what he says, do not open the door.
If you hear a voice outside calling your name, ignore it. We don’t have neighbors.
Sometimes you will hear footsteps on the ceiling. That’s normal. Do not look up.
If the house phone rings, do not answer it. We will not call the house phone.
If you hear crying coming from inside the walls, do not investigate.
Should you see a tall, thin man in the hallway after midnight, close your eyes immediately. If he notices you looking, he will take your place.
I chuckled as I finished reading. A joke. It had to be.
Then I turned to Tommy.
He was staring at me.
"Are you gonna follow the rules?" he asked.
Something about his voice made my skin crawl.
"Yeah, bud," I muttered. "Sure."
I did everything by the book.
At 7:55 PM, I tucked him in.
At 8:00 PM, I shut his bedroom door.
At 8:13 PM, the baby monitor crackled with static.
I turned toward Tommy’s room, my stomach knotting. Rule #3.
I didn’t go in.
Then—a knock.
Soft.
"Miss?" Tommy's voice. "I can’t sleep."
I swallowed. Rule #4.
"Go back to sleep, Tommy."
"Please," he whispered. "Something’s in here."
I squeezed my eyes shut. Don’t open the door.
The knocking stopped.
But then—I heard breathing.
Not from the baby monitor.
From behind the door.
Long. Slow. Wet.
I backed away.
By 11:43 PM, the house phone rang. I ignored it.
At 12:04 AM, I heard footsteps.
They weren’t coming from Tommy’s room.
They were on the ceiling.
I sat frozen on the couch, staring at the TV, forcing myself not to look up.
Then—the walls began to cry.
Muffled sobs, barely audible, coming from inside the drywall.
At 2:36 AM, I heard something moving in the hallway.
I turned my head slowly.
There, in the dim light, was a man.
No. Not a man.
Something pretending to be one.
He was tall. Too tall. His body stretched like someone had pulled him at both ends, his limbs impossibly long.
His face was smooth, blank, like a mask that had been rubbed away.
I couldn’t breathe.
Rule #9.
I shut my eyes.
The room was silent for a moment. Then—a whisper.
"Don’t peek."
My stomach twisted into a knot.
I kept my eyes shut.
Minutes passed.
Then—a soft chuckle.
I opened my eyes.
The hallway was empty.
The rest of the night passed in a blur.
At 6:00 AM, the Walkers returned.
Mrs. Walker scanned me up and down. "You followed the rules?"
I nodded.
"Good." She handed me an envelope of cash. "Most don’t."
I exhaled, relieved. I was done.
But then—Tommy emerged from his room.
And I froze.
His eyes were dull, unfocused. His skin was gray.
And when he looked at me, his mouth twisted into something too wide to be human.
"Thank you for staying with me," he said, voice layered—like something else was speaking along with him.
Then he smiled.
I ran.
I never took another babysitting job again.
But sometimes, in the middle of the night, I hear a knock on my bedroom door.
Soft.
Familiar.
"Miss?"
And I never, ever open it.