“Abigail, why are your clothes all over the floor? Here help me put them back in your wardrobe.”
“But the door won’t close and he’ll get out.”
“Don’t be silly, they’re just ghost stories.”
Abigail watched as her mother crammed all her clothes back into the wardrobe, and sure enough the door wouldn’t shut properly.
“Goodnight, sleep tight,” her mother said before heading to the bathroom. Abigail clung to her duvet and said nothing.
Her mother, before going downstairs, looked upon her daughter one more time. She was sat amongst the same pile of clothes gazing into the wardrobe muttering to herself.
“Abigail, what have we just….”
Slowly her daughter’s head turned, her eyes glaringly wide but also vacant in her expression.
“I’m not Abigail mother! She warned you I’d get out.”