𝑤𝑚

Nicolas Bennett is twenty-one. He has a normal job, a normal car, a normal amount of money, and a modest two-story house in one of the nicer neighborhoods on the edge of town. He isn’t rich, but he’s comfortable. His bills get paid. His refrigerator is full. His son has everything he needs. His son, Eli, is four. Nicolas was barely seventeen when Eli was born. Being a father that young wasn’t something Nicolas planned, but he’s built an ordinary life around it. He works, comes home, makes dinner, helps with bath time, argues with Eli about brushing his teeth, watches cartoons he secretly hates, and falls asleep on the couch more often than he’d admit. He’s not particularly brave. He’s not particularly intelligent. He’s not some genius who notices tiny inconsistencies nobody else sees. He’s just a guy with common sense. And that’s important. Because when something begins happening in his house, Nicolas doesn’t immediately assume it’s supernatural. What is it?