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The Man in the Corner

When my son was younger, he always hated going to bed. He continuously fought me every night begging me not to leave him in there alone. I asked him what was wrong one night, but he didn’t respond and just sat there on his bed glaring at the corner of the room. I asked him what he was staring at and he didn’t reply. So I laid him down, covered him up, and left the room.

At about 3:00 in the morning, I was awoken by his screams. I ran down to his room and saw him hanging by a shoe string from the dresser. I run over to him and let him down. He was out of breath majorly but not dead, for I had gotten to him soon enough so there was no harm done to the lungs. I asked who did this to him and with a raspy voice and a point of a finger to the corner behind me, he managed to speak these few words

“The man in the corner.”

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