Every night, the dog snarled at their babybut when the parents uncovered the truth, their lives were never the same.
For the first few months, everything appeared idyllic.
James and Emily Whitaker had just brought their first child, baby Oliver, home to their cottage in the Lake District. Theyd spent months preparingpainting the nursery a soft cream, reading every parenting guide, and even enrolling their loyal Labrador, Rex, in obedience classes to ensure hed adjust well.
Rex, a six-year-old rescue, had always been calm and devoted, following Emily around like a second shadow. Naturally, they assumed hed be the perfect companion for their newborn.
And by day, he was.
Rex would rest beside the crib, watchful yet gentle. Hed nudge Olivers tiny hand affectionately and whine softly if the baby stirred. But as darkness fell, something shifted.
The growling started.
It began on a Wednesday night. Around half past one, a deep, rumbling growl crackled through the baby monitor. At first, James thought it was interference. But when he checked the screen, he saw Rex rigid by Olivers crib, ears pinned back, teeth barednot at the baby.
At the wall.
The far corner of the nursery.
James hurried in. The room was silent except for Olivers quiet breaths and Rexs unbroken growl.
Easy, boy, its all right, James murmured, guiding Rex back. The dog stopped growling but kept his gaze locked on the same spot.
Emily dismissed it as a strange dream the next morning.
But the following night, it happened again.
And again.
By the fifth night, Rexs growls had sharpened. He even scraped at the wall with his paw.
Hes picking up on something, Emily said, her voice tense. Animals sense things we cant.
James forced a laugh. Youre not suggesting its supernatural?
Emily didnt reply.
They tried everythingsleeping in the nursery, setting up a camera, even diffusing chamomile oil. But Rexs behaviour didnt waver. Hed stay quiet until the same timethen growl, low and menacing, always at that corner.
And Oliver?
He began waking with piercing cries.
On the seventh night, James had had enough.
This is absurd, he muttered, grabbing a torch. Maybe theres a draught or a rat in the wall.
Emily cradled Oliver, rocking him as he whimpered.
James tapped the wall where Rex had growled. It sounded hollow. Frowning, he fetched a screwdriver and pried off the nearby vent cover. A musty gust escaped.
Thats when he saw it.
A small patch of plaster behind the vent had been crudely cut and reattached. Shoddy work, barely held together with filler. With a few tugs, James removed it.
Behind it was a narrow gap between the beamsa space that shouldnt have been accessible.
Inside lay a small tin.
He lifted it out carefully.
Whats in it? Emily asked, holding Oliver closer.
James sat on the nursery floor and opened the tin.
Inside were aged letters. A tarnished locket. A faded photo of a woman cradling an infant. And beneath it all
A diary.
Dated 1979. The first entry read:
No one believes me. But something comes through the wall. Every night. My baby screams, and no one else sees it. But the dog does. The dog always knows.
Jamess hands shook.
He skimmed the entries. The writing grew frantic, desperate. The woman described a shadow that appeared in the nursery at nighta dark figure leaning over the crib, vanishing when lights flicked on. Her husband thought she was exhausted. Doctors called it stress.
Then the entries stopped abruptly.
The final line read:
If you find thiswatch the child. Listen to the dog.
Emily paled.
Were not imagining it, she whispered. Something happened here before. In this room.
And Rex had known. All along.
He hadnt growled at Oliver.
Hed growled to guard him.
Emily didnt sleep that night. Neither did Rex.
While James pored over the diary, Emily sat in the living room, rocking Oliver, unwilling to return to the nursery. Rex stayed close, planting himself between her and the hallway, tense and alert.
I always thought this house felt too still, Emily murmured. Now I know why.
James joined her, clutching the diary. She wasnt mad, Em. Everything she wroteit matches what weve seen. Her baby waking in terror, the dog growling at the wall, the same corner.
Emily blinked. What became of them?
Theres no record. No news clipping. No missing persons report. Whoever lived here before they just vanished.
The next day, James invited over a local historian, Mrs. Thompson, whod grown up in the village. Shown the diary and
