The Vanishing Swing

It began outside my house at night, an oddity in itself. We lived by a strict rule: “When the streetlights come on, you come inside.” But that night, I stood alone on the front lawn under the cold, flickering glow of the streetlamps.

Through the window, I saw my family gathered around the dinner table, laughing and talking as if everything were perfectly normal. They couldn’t see me.

Panic set in. I pounded on the window with all my strength, shouting their names until my voice cracked. Nothing. They didn’t hear me — they didn’t even glance toward the window. It was like I didn’t exist.

Suddenly, I heard the soft creak of chains behind me. I spun around. A swing set — one that never existed before — stood in my driveway. On it, my best friend Kyle swung slowly back and forth, head down, silent.

Relief washed over me. I wasn’t alone.

“Kyle!” I called, rushing over. He didn’t respond. He just… swayed. His eyes were hollow, unfocused. His skin pale like wax.

Desperate, I remembered the candy I had stashed in my backyard — hidden treasure meant to outsmart my parents. Maybe it would snap him out of this strange trance.

“I’ll be right back!” I shouted, heart pounding as I sprinted to retrieve the candy.

I returned, breathless… and froze.

The swing set was empty. Kyle was gone. The swing still swayed gently, creaking in the stillness. The darkened windows of the neighborhood houses seemed to watch me, silent and accusing.

Then... it happened.

A distant pop echoed in the silence. The first streetlight flickered, then died.

My stomach twisted.

Another streetlight went dark. Then another. The darkness was moving… coming toward me.

I ran to the front door, slamming my fists against it, screaming for my family. My fingers jabbed the doorbell over and over, its frantic chime drowned by the suffocating silence behind me.

I looked over my shoulder. The dark was so close now — a pulsing, living thing. The last light above me flickered, sputtered… and died.

Total darkness.

The last thing I heard was a guttural, inhuman laughter... deep, echoing, and so familiar.

I woke up in my bed, gasping for air, drenched in sweat. But the dream didn’t fade like others. It stayed — real, sharp, unyielding.

I never had another nightmare like it again.

But since that night, darkness seems to follow me — like it never really let me go. Sometimes, when the world feels especially bleak, I swear I hear that laughter... faint, distant... waiting.