The boy hesitated, glancing around the room as if expecting to see something invisible to others. He then explained in a hushed tone, “Every night, when everyone is asleep, I hear whispers. They come from the wall near his crib. I don’t understand them, but they say his name. I’m scared they’ll take him away, so I bring him to my room where it’s safe.”

Chills ran down the mother’s spine. She had never witnessed her son fabricating stories before. He was sweet and imaginative, yes, but this was something else entirely. Her maternal instincts kicked in, and she hugged both her sons tightly, reassuring the eldest that everything would be alright.