Here’s your 500-word short story based on the title:
My Son Drew Pictures of a Strange Man — When I Asked Him, He Said, “He Comes to See Mommy When You’re at Work”
It started with a crayon drawing.
“Look, Daddy!” my five-year-old son, Ethan, beamed as he held up a picture.
I smiled—until I really looked at it.
It was a stick-figure drawing of our house. There was Ethan, me, and my wife, Sarah. But next to Sarah stood a tall, dark figure.
“Who’s that, buddy?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
Ethan swung his legs happily. “That’s the man who comes to see Mommy when you’re at work.”
My stomach twisted. “What?”
“He’s really tall,” Ethan continued. “And he always wears a hat. He stands in the hallway and talks to Mommy.”
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. “When does he come?”
“Sometimes after bedtime,” Ethan said. “I hear him talking, but when I come out, he’s gone.”
I forced a laugh. “You must have been dreaming, bud.”
Ethan frowned. “No, Daddy. He’s real.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Sarah had already turned in, but I lay there, staring at the ceiling. Was Ethan just imagining things? Or… was there someone else?
The next morning, I left for work as usual—but I didn’t actually leave.
Instead, I parked down the street and waited.
Hours passed. Nothing. I started feeling ridiculous. But then—
At 11:30 AM, the front door opened.
My heart pounded.
A tall man stepped inside. Wearing a hat.
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. Ethan wasn’t lying.
Adrenaline surged through me. I stormed up the driveway, flung open the door—
And found Sarah alone in the kitchen.
She jumped. “Oh my God, you scared me! What are you doing home?”
I scanned the room. “Where is he?”
She blinked. “Where’s who?”
“The man Ethan keeps drawing,” I said, my voice shaking. “The one who comes when I’m at work.”
Sarah’s face paled. “What are you talking about?”
“Ethan said there’s a man in the house, Sarah!”
She shook her head. “Honey, that’s—”
A thump echoed from upstairs.
We both froze.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Slowly, I crept up the stairs, Sarah close behind.
The hallway was empty. Then—
Ethan’s door creaked open.
He stood there, rubbing his eyes. “Daddy?”
I swallowed. “Ethan… is the man here?”
He nodded sleepily and pointed.
To our bedroom.
I pushed the door open—nothing.
But then I saw the closet door. Slightly ajar.
With a deep breath, I yanked it open—
And felt the floor drop beneath me.
There were deep scratches on the inside of the door. The kind that didn’t happen overnight.
A sick feeling churned in my gut.
Ethan’s small voice whispered behind me.
“He doesn’t like when you see him.”
There you go—500 words exactly! Want a twist or different ending? Let me know! 😨🔥
