Art by Lori Michelle Adams
I started baby-sitting when I was I6. But somehow, everything got
out of control. Weird things started happening. I got scared. I wanted to leave.
I needed a job for summer vacation. My mom wasn’t making enough money.
So I decided to go Babysitting. This is how it went:
“So how much is the pay?” I asked Mrs. Helen.
“Its four dollars an hour,” said Mrs. Helen.
I leaned to my side. “Alright, I’ll take it.”
“Alright. Now it’s settled,” said Mr. Helen. I thought about the job.
Four nights a week. But how hard can it be? I only have to put the baby to bed.
“I’ll start Monday, tomorrow,” I said.
Mrs. Helen grinned. “Tomorrow it is, then.”
When I exited the house, I started walking down the street to the bus stop.
Soon the bus came and I went home.
As I entered the house, I saw my mom waiting for me at the kitchen table.
“Did you get the job?” she asked.
I put an angry expression on. “No.”
“How come?” asked mom in a soft voice.
And then I smiled. “Just kidding. Yes,” I said.
“You,” said mom nodding her head. “Do you know how much you get paid?”
“I get paid four dollars an hour,” I said.
“Good. How many nights a week?”
“Four nights a week,” I said. “That’s a lot. But I get paid more.”
Mom got up. “Great,” she said.
I walked up to my room and went to bed.
Mrs. Helen got her stuff ready for the meeting. “I’ll be kind of late,
so don’t be troubled,” said Mrs. Helen.
“Oh, she’ll be fine,” said Mr. Helen as he walked down the stairs.
He walked to the door and opened it for Mrs. Helen to go through.
“We’ll be back in a while, so make yourself comfortable,” said Mrs. Helen
as she exited. Boy, were they in a hurry.
She quickly exited the door followed by Mr. Helen and closed the door. Well,
here we go.
I walked to her bedroom to tuck her in. “Good night,” I said. I gently put
the covers up to her shoulders. I could tell she was already falling asleep. Her
eyelids were constantly dropping. I slowly walked out the room and closed the
door. Now that wasn’t so hard.
I walked downstairs and turned on the TV. But then I heard the phone ring.
I immediately grabbed it so it wouldn’t wake the baby. “Hello?” I asked.
But all I heard was wild laughter. “Ha ha ha, I’m up here with your daughter,
you’d better come up,” it said. I got frightened. How did he know? He hung up.
Just some kids crank calling, I thought. I heard the phone ring a few minutes
later. The same message. That’s it. I’m going to call the operator for help.
I dialed 411. “Hello, operator speaking,” she said. I asked her what I should
do if the crazy man calls again. She suggested that I keep him talking so she
could get information on where he’s calling.
Later, the phone rang and I grabbed the phone. Still, wild laughter. Still
he’s up there with the daughter. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. He just hung up.
A few seconds later, I heard the phone ring again. This time it was the operator.
“Quick, get out of the house. I called the police. The man is calling from
the second floor of the house!”
I immediately ran out of the house to the arms of the police.
A few officers barged in the house and saw the man standing next to the
bedroom door, holding a butchers knife. Thank goodness! I figured he hasn’t
hurt the baby!
They still allowed me to baby-sit. But one night, while I put the baby to bed,
I went downstairs to watch some TV. I heard no sound in the monitor. In case you
don’t know what that is, it tells you what sounds the baby’s making. If you hear
crying from it, you go upstairs to comfort him or her. But this time I heard
I heard a soothing voice from the monitor. It sang: Rock my baby, on the
tree top. When the wind blows, the cradle will fall. I got scared. I froze.
I turned off the TV and slowly walked up the steps quietly.
I felt tingling all over. I couldn’t keep still. When I reached the baby’s
bedroom, I opened the door slowly. I heard thumping of feet. I immediately opened
the door, trying to not wake up the baby. Nothing there.
No one there.
I walked down the steps toward the living room. Boy, have I ever felt so
relieved in my life. I turned the TV back on. Then I heard the voice again.
Rock my baby, on the tree top. When the wind blows, the cradle will fall.
I gathered my courage. One more time. I got up and walked steadily up the
steps holding my breath. Who’s there?
My pants rustled together making too much noise as I walked.
When I reached the door, I opened it. Nothing except an open window.
I went to close the window, but I took a minute to look outside. What a nice
view, I thought. I almost saw my house from there.
I turned back and there I saw it. A man in the closet, holding a black ball.
His coal black eyes reflected from the light. He smiled.
I couldn’t say anything. I was too shocked. He got up and walked to where
I was. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed hard. He pushed so hard, my shoulders
I fell back against the open window and tripped over. I expected to feel
the floor beneath me. But no. He pushed me out the window! On the second floor!
I gripped and tugged the black ball from his hand. I then flipped upside
down. I turned my head up and saw the ground before I died.
The corpse was discovered a while later. The black ball was taken to a
jewelry shop and was given as a gift to a little girl.