Brave Dad

A few minutes later, Tom's dad stood next to him in front of the closed door to his room, robed and slippering, flashlight in hand. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice deep and rough from having woken up. "Did you see it?"

"Yeah, sure, I'd see it. A large...blue screen, just like a hologram or something more like it... " Tom stuttered. He wasn't sure if there was any other way to explain it, as the memories sent shudders to him.

He winced as he looked at his father, certain that his father would finally commit him to an insane asylum—first for his bizarre behaviour that morning, even at breakfast, and now for this.

'He must think I am crazy'.

"A blue screen? A hologram? Tom, what book were you reading before you went to bed? Star Wars?"

"No."

"Was it the movie you watched?"

"No dad, I wasn't imagining it. It felt real, as if a robot was trying to say something and writings appeared on... nvm." Tom felt stupid, and he resolved to quit blabbing.

"Well, it's about time to open the door, right?"

Tom looked at his dad. A worn-out expression was all he could detect, and also some odd behavior that showed him that dad was just trying to fulfill his duty as a father. At that point, he felt bad for bothering him, but what could he do? Everything felt real and he was sure that he wasn't dreaming.

"Come on, son," Dad smiled at him, Tom nodded, and they faced the door, their faces tense and ready, as if about to enter a dungeon.

Several seconds passed, the two of them starring at the brass door knob.

   "Well?" Tom asked.

"Oh..yeah", Dad reached forward and twisted the handle and pushed.

   The door swung open with a long, groaning creak that echoed through the house. A wave of light from the hallway spread over the carpet like a rising tide. Tom held the doorframe and peeked, hoping to see the blue screen with a flickering voice to appear immediately. But he saw nothing unusual.

Dad reached around the edge of the doorframe and turned on the bedroom light. In an instant, every last shadow in the room disappeared, bringing a completely different feel to everything.

Turning off his flashlight, "Tom, um, I can't see anything." Tom was just looking sarcastically around the room, diluting the fact that his dad would call him crazy. "Where the fuck are you? "You stupid thing!"

In five minutes, they were still standing, looking around the room. Dad was already tired. He just brought out time to access the room with Tom, so that he'll know that there's no sci-fi cyborg in his room. At that point, he felt guilty, wondering if it was the games and movies he bought for Tom.

Rubbing his worn out face, "Tom—".

"The closet," Tom said, licking his dry lips. "That was the initial place the noise started from."

"Yeah, the closet. Where every monster that's ever eaten a child dwells. Just great".

They edged across the room, which now seemed as wide as a dragon dungeon. Dad's sturdy feet marched towards the closet. Tom wondered how stressed up he was, already having the feeling to tell his dad not to bother anymore, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. Before they can relax, they must first solve the mystery.

Dad reached out and flung the closet open. Nothing moved in the cluttered piles of neatly packed clothes, shoes, and other junk. There didn't seem to be enough space for a cyborg airship to be in the closet.

Tom went closer, nudged the clothes with his feet, and checked the shoe racks below them. Nothing was there. They spent another ten minutes checking the room, and they found nothing.

   Dad arranged the quilt, which draped down to the floor, tucking it back into the wooden stand of the bed.

"Dad—."

  "Tom, it's OK. Alright" 

"OK," Tom said, tilting his head away from his dad. Feeling embarrassed, Tom only had to apologize to his dad for causing so much trouble that night.

'But I wasn't crazy,' he kept saying that to himself.

He felt his dad's hand on his shoulders, comforting and strong. His dad drew him closer and caressed his hair. "It's OK son, I believe you, but now there's no robot or blue screen in your room."

"I'll call the feds when the aliens want to come take my son away."

Tom smiled, "C'mon dad." Dad laughed and pulled him into a tight hug. "It's OK now ,son. I know that moving into a new town and neighborhood could take time before you adapt. I'll always be sorry for what the nature of our job has done to you guys. "

"I have never complained, dad," Tom said.

"But sometimes we wake from dreams and they seem very... real. You know? "

Tom wanted to argue, but he was too tired of considering the possibility of making anyone believe him. Tom had been on the bed for a long time—maybe he'd fallen asleep without realizing it. But no, he was just about to play his favourite game, Dex. And the thing also called his name, which was the only thing he could make out from the voice before dashing out of the room.

With all that, he was convinced that it'd been real. But why bother his poor father any longer? He nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Tom's father released him from the hug, putting his arms around Tom's shoulder. "You can come sleep on the couch in our room. A little sleepover with dad won't be bad. Tom felt embarrassed, but he couldn't reject that offer after what had already happened. He grabbed his pillow and blanket before following his dad out of the room. In the hallway, they shared a glance, then Dad shut Tom's bedroom door, twisting the knob and making sure it was locked.