Seth
Chapter 9:

“And what are you today, my treasure?”

“…I’m S.A.D: Seth Allan Daniels, the luckiest boy in the world.”

“And why are you the luckiest boy in the world?”

“Because I have you for a mom.”

She came awake with a start.

Something warm was stroking the side of her face, something that felt remarkably like fingers from a very small child.

For a moment she hung suspended between half sleep and full-on awareness. The dream had her yes, but coupled with what her mind knew awaited her if she were to wake, reality and memory had become a confusing, jarring morass.

It can’t be. Such things cannot occur!

The face that had peered up at her from its hiding place behind the old saddle had been that of her son, Seth. The eyes were a deeper, more fathomless blue, but there was no mistaking the cherubic appearance of the face, cheeks, everything. Even the hair, long as it was, was undeniably Seth. It was a perfect match for the way he’d looked in the photograph moments before his first home haircut, and she had always kept it short and well-trimmed up until his death.

…I know that you are gone and can never return to me….

A sob escaped her lips and her eyes flew open. The rafters of the barn soared above her like the ribs of some long-dead leviathan as she lay on the ground, and her hands and feet were cold. There was a slight ringing in her ears from where she had fainted and hit the floor, and her torso was twisted awkwardly to the side.

Something warm slipped into her right hand and she gasped, quickly jerking away. There was a sudden burst of movement as the thing hastily scrambled back, its arms and legs tucked protectively against it.

She cautiously maneuvered herself onto her side, careful not to make any sudden moves. Her reaction had been purely instinctual, and while regrettable, she could still salvage something of the situation.

There, not four feet away from her, sat the thing fully dressed in Seth’s plaid jacket and sweatpants. Both the shoes and clothes were far too big for him, and the shoes were untied. It appeared to be a boy of about five years of age with long brown hair that should have been cut months before, and it sat huddled on the dirt floor, its hands clasped tightly around its knees. It was making that heart-wrenching whimper again and was trembling as much from the cold as fear. It hadn’t run away when she’d jerked away from it, and it was then that she realized that it had been holding her hand.

“It’s okay.” She managed to prop herself up on her right side. It didn’t move, but it did at least stop making that sound that pulled at her heartstrings. “I shouldn’t have done that, I was just…scared.” Her hand felt strangely empty now that contact had been severed, and she had a mad urge to hold the creature in her arms and offer it comfort.

It had obviously been trying to do the same with her and it clearly trusted her. Otherwise it would not have emerged from its hiding place and would have taken off running when she’d jerked away from it. It was also clear that it was quite intelligent and had been watching her when she’d mimed putting on the clothes. She hadn’t thought to demonstrate how to tie the laces, which might explain why they remained untied even though the shoes had been put on correctly.

Her mind swam with all of this new information.

This couldn’t be her son. Seth had been buried months ago and was truly dead. Whatever this was it was merely mimicking his appearance, but to what point and purpose? Seth had been ten when he’d died, but this thing looked at least half of that, just like in the photograph that had been broken the night before.

She remembered the feeling of something touching her face as she dreamt of her son, the dream that had felt all wrong despite the apparent familiarity. Could it be that it had somehow read what was in her thoughts and coupled with the photograph, had used them to alter its appearance?

What else was it capable of? It could learn, that was obvious. That it could feel fear, hunger, and yes, even a desire for comfort, that was plain too. What wasn’t so clear was what was she to do next?

“I don’t know what to do.” She slowly sat up and drew her knees up to her chest, mimicking the thing’s actions. “What do you want from me, or better yet, why me?”

In answer, the thing cautiously raised its head and peered at her through the bangs of its hair.

Help me.

She heard the words as clearly as if it had spoken aloud, yet the lips didn’t move.

Help. Me.

Its eyes were enormous and full of an undeniable innocence and helplessness.

She found herself nodding even before the last syllable echoed through her mind. “Okay.” She extended her hand towards it, the fingers outstretched in invitation.

Its eyes glanced from her hand back up to her face and then back towards her hand.

She nodded again. “It’s okay. You’ll be safe with me.”

Small, warm fingers closed around hers in a grip that was both alien and achingly familiar.

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