It started with a whisper.
At first, Emma thought it was her imagination. The soft hum of a melody would drift into her ears just as she was about to fall asleep, so faint that she could convince herself it wasn’t real. But every night, without fail, the lullaby grew louder. It wasn’t coming from outside her window or through the walls—it was closer. Much closer.
One evening, after weeks of trying to ignore it, Emma finally realized where the sound was coming from: beneath her bed.
The realization sent a shiver down her spine. She had always been afraid of what might lurk under there in the dark, but now something—or someone—was singing. The voice was gentle, almost soothing, like a mother coaxing her child to sleep. Yet there was an unsettling edge to it, a strange cadence that made the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck stand up.
“Hush now, little one,” the voice crooned. “Sleep tight. I’ll tuck you in forever.”
Emma froze. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she clutched her blanket tightly around her chest. Tuck me in forever? What did that even mean?
She wanted to call for her parents, but fear rooted her to the spot. If they came in and found nothing, they’d think she was imagining things. Worse yet, if they discovered something… what then? Would they be able to protect her?
The next night, the singing began again. This time, Emma couldn’t resist. Trembling, she leaned over the side of her bed and peered into the darkness below. At first, all she saw was the familiar clutter: dusty toys, forgotten books, and tangled cords. Then, slowly, two pale hands emerged from the shadows. They were long and bony, with nails that looked more like claws than fingers. The hands reached upward, feeling blindly for her.
Emma screamed and scrambled backward, slamming her back against the headboard. Her door burst open, and her father rushed in, his face etched with concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning the room.
Emma pointed at the bed, tears streaming down her face. “Under there! There’s something under my bed!”
Her father sighed, clearly thinking this was another childish nightmare. He crouched down and lifted the dust ruffle, shining his phone flashlight underneath. Nothing but cobwebs and old junk met his gaze.
“There’s nothing here, sweetheart,” he said gently, patting her leg. “Go back to sleep.”
But Emma knew better. That night, the voice returned, angrier this time. Its sweet tone twisted into something sharp and menacing.
“You shouldn’t have told them,” it hissed. “Now we’ll have to hurry.”
Emma squeezed her eyes shut, praying for morning to come. When dawn finally broke, she felt a flicker of relief. Surely whatever lurked beneath her bed wouldn’t dare show itself during the day. Still, she avoided looking under the furniture, even when her mom asked her to clean her room.
Days passed, and though the voice stayed silent during daylight hours, it returned each night with renewed intensity. The songs became darker, filled with promises of eternal rest and chilling warnings not to fight. One particularly horrifying evening, Emma heard the unmistakable sound of nails scraping against wood. Whatever was under her bed was growing restless.
Desperate, Emma confided in her best friend, Lily, during recess at school. Lily listened wide-eyed, clutching her lunchbox.
“My grandma used to tell me stories about things like that,” Lily whispered. “She called them ‘Tuckers.’ They’re spirits that steal kids who don’t go to sleep. Once they get you, they tuck you away somewhere you can never leave.”
Emma’s blood ran cold. “How do I stop it?”
Lily hesitated. “Grandma said you need to trap it. Use salt. Spirits hate salt.”
That afternoon, Emma emptied half a box of table salt onto the floor around her bed, creating a thick circle. Her mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. That night, Emma climbed into bed, her heart racing. For once, the singing didn’t start immediately. Minutes ticked by, stretching into an hour. Maybe the salt had worked.
Then, just as Emma began to drift off, the voice spoke directly in her ear.
“Clever girl,” it purred. “But salt won’t save you.”
Emma bolted upright, only to see those skeletal hands reaching out from beneath the bed. Before she could react, they grabbed her ankles and yanked her downward with terrifying strength. She screamed and clawed at the carpet, but the pull was relentless. The last thing she saw before being dragged into the abyss was her bedroom ceiling—and the shadowy figure crawling out from under the bed.
Weeks later, Emma’s parents still searched for answers. Their daughter had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only scuff marks on the floor and a trail of spilled salt. They hired detectives, plastered posters around town, and begged anyone who would listen for help. But deep down, they feared the worst.
Meanwhile, late at night, other children in the neighborhood began hearing lullabies drifting up from beneath their beds. A new voice promised them comfort, safety, and a place to rest forever.
And one by one, they disappeared too.
The Tucker’s Lair
Emma woke up in complete darkness. Her body ached, and her throat burned from screaming. Panic surged through her veins as she tried to move, but something held her down. Cold, damp fabric wrapped tightly around her arms and legs, pinning her to what felt like a hard, uneven surface. She struggled against the bindings, but they only tightened further.
“Welcome, little one,” the voice cooed, echoing all around her. “You’re home now.”
Emma’s breath hitched. “Where am I? Who are you?”
The voice chuckled softly, sending chills down her spine. “I’m your Tucker. And this is your forever bed.”
Suddenly, a dim light flickered on overhead, revealing the grotesque reality of her surroundings. Emma was lying on a makeshift cot inside a cavernous space filled with rows upon rows of identical cots. Each one held a motionless child, wrapped snugly in tattered blankets. Some stared blankly at the ceiling, their eyes glassy and lifeless, while others appeared to be sleeping peacefully. None of them moved.
Emma’s stomach churned. “What… what did you do to them?”
“They’re tucked in,” the Tucker replied matter-of-factly. “Just like you will be soon.”
A shadowy figure stepped into view. It was tall and gaunt, its skin stretched taut over jagged bones. Its face was featureless except for a gaping maw filled with needle-like teeth. Long, spindly fingers flexed at its sides as it loomed over her.
“No!” Emma shrieked, thrashing wildly. “Let me go!”
The creature tilted its head, amused. “Oh, darling, there’s no escape. You should feel honored. Not everyone gets chosen to join us. Only the special ones hear our song.”
Emma’s mind raced. She had to find a way out. Summoning every ounce of courage, she spat in defiance. “I’m not staying here. You can’t keep me!”
The Tucker’s grin widened, revealing even more teeth. “We’ll see about that.”
With unnatural speed, it lunged forward and pressed a bony hand over her mouth. Emma gagged as a foul taste filled her senses—a mixture of dirt, decay, and something metallic. Her vision blurred, and her limbs went limp. The last thing she remembered was the Tucker humming its haunting lullaby.
When Emma regained consciousness, she was no longer tied down. Instead, she sat upright on the cot, surrounded by the same eerie stillness. The other children remained frozen in their eternal slumber, their faces eerily serene. Despite her freedom, Emma felt an overwhelming heaviness pressing down on her chest, as if invisible weights were anchoring her in place.
She tried to stand, but her legs refused to cooperate. Panic set in as she realized she couldn’t move beyond shifting slightly on the cot. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she called out for help, but her voice barely registered above a whisper.
“Why can’t I move?” she sobbed.
The Tucker materialized beside her, its hollow eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Because you’re tucked in now, dear. Forever.”
Emma’s world shattered. She understood now—the Tucker hadn’t simply kidnapped her; it had trapped her soul within this nightmare realm. The children around her weren’t alive—they were prisoners, doomed to remain in this limbo for eternity.
The Spread of Fear
Back in the waking world, reports of missing children spread like wildfire. Parents locked their doors and installed nightlights in every room, but the disappearances continued. No amount of security could stop the Tucker’s reach. It preyed on fear, slipping undetected into homes and luring its victims with promises of comfort and safety.
Detective Harris, assigned to investigate the case, noticed a disturbing pattern. Every missing child lived near an abandoned house on the outskirts of town—a crumbling Victorian mansion with boarded-up windows and an overgrown yard. Locals claimed the property was cursed, haunted by the spirit of a woman who had lost her own child centuries ago.
Determined to uncover the truth, Harris ventured into the decrepit building one stormy night. As lightning illuminated the sky, he descended into the basement, following the faint sound of singing. There, hidden behind a false wall, he discovered a tunnel leading deep underground.
The air grew colder with each step, and the lullaby grew louder. Finally, he reached a vast chamber filled with countless cots. Dozens of children lay motionless, their eyes vacant and unseeing. In the center of the room stood the Tucker, cradling a terrified boy in its arms.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” the creature hissed, turning its gaze toward Harris.
Before he could react, the ground beneath him gave way, plunging him into darkness. When he awoke, he found himself lying on one of the cots, unable to move. His screams joined the chorus of whispers filling the cavern—a symphony of despair sung by those already lost.
The Endless Lullaby
Aboveground, the disappearances ceased—for a time. People assumed the danger had passed, but whispers of the Tucker lingered in hushed conversations. Parents warned their children never to listen to strange voices at night, especially those coming from beneath their beds.
Yet the Tucker wasn’t gone. It waited patiently, biding its time until the fear faded and complacency set in. Because it knew the truth: as long as children slept, its song would always find eager ears.
And so, the cycle began anew.
