This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/This-Statistician473 on 2024-09-25 23:25:32+00:00.
It started as a normal summer evening. My sister and I sat in the living room, aimlessly flipping through TV channels, trying to figure out how to spend the night. That’s when I had the idea.
“Hey, let’s camp out in the van!” I said, glancing toward the window. The old blue van sat in the driveway, its trunk perfect for a cozy little campout.
“Outside?” my sister asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Yeah, why not? It’ll be fun.”
We crawled into the van, its old interior filled with the familiar musty smell of fabric seats and stale air. The darkness inside felt cozy at first, like we’d created our own little world, separate from everything else. The blankets we brought rustled softly as we settled in, their worn texture comforting against my skin. We had a flashlight, but we kept it off, preferring the dim glow from the house lights filtering through the windows. The night was cool, a breeze occasionally sweeping across the van, causing the air to shift, carrying with it the faint scent of grass and the dampness of the evening.
I felt safe there, with my sister beside me, the faint hum of crickets in the distance providing a peaceful background. But after a while, the air in the van grew heavier, the cozy feeling replaced by something more oppressive. It was as though the shadows themselves were thickening, pressing in from all sides.
And then it happened.
The urge to look through the back window came out of nowhere. It was a slow, creeping feeling, like someone standing just behind me, breathing down my neck. My skin prickled, the hair on my arms standing on end. I couldn’t resist it—I had to look. My stomach tightened as I turned, bracing myself for… I didn’t even know what.
When my eyes met those two glowing red orbs, a cold rush of terror shot through me, freezing me in place. They weren’t just glowing—they burned, like embers smoldering in the dark. The red was the same color as the stoplights at the end of the street, glaring through the night, but these eyes were alive, staring straight through me.
For a moment, it felt like time stopped. The world outside the van fell away, and it was just me and those eyes. My heart pounded in my chest, loud and erratic, each beat shaking my whole body. I wanted to run, to scream, but my voice was stuck in my throat, paralyzed by the weight of that gaze
“Sis… come here,” I whispered.
She slid up beside me and followed my gaze. Her face paled as she saw what I saw.
“Stay here,” I whispered urgently. “Don’t move. I’m gonna get Mom and Dad.”
Before she could protest, I slipped out of the van and bolted for the house. My feet barely touched the ground as I raced across the yard, my mind racing faster than my legs.
I burst through the back door, panting, and found Dad sitting at the kitchen table.
“Dad! There’s something outside, by the van! It has red eyes, and it—it picked up the van! You have to come, please!”
He didn’t even look up from his newspaper.
“Stop joking around. Either come inside or stay out there, but enough with the stories,” he said, his voice as flat as ever.
“I’m not joking!” I pleaded, feeling my pulse in my throat. “Please, Dad, you have to come!”
He sighed and waved me off. “Go tell your mom, then.”
I rushed into the living room, where Mom sat on the couch, watching TV.
“Mom! There’s something out there, something with red eyes—it lifted the van!” My voice was frantic, desperate.
Mom turned to me and shook her head, smiling softly. “You’ve always had such a vivid imagination. It’s probably just a shadow or a reflection. Go back outside and play.”
I stood there, speechless, as the seconds ticked by. No one was going to help.
Panic set in, and without another word, I ran back outside. My chest tightened with dread as I reached the van.
But when I looked inside, my sister was gone.
The van was empty. My sister was gone.
I stared, frozen, my mind racing, heart pounding in my ears. I called out her name, but my voice sounded hollow, lost in the still night air. There was no sign of her—no movement, no sound. Just the van, eerily still, as if nothing had happened.
I felt a deep, gnawing panic rising in my chest. The red eyes. I wasn’t imagining them. I knew what I’d seen. But now she was gone, and there was no trace of… anything.
I ran back to the house, my breath coming in short gasps.
“She’s gone!” I yelled as I burst into the living room. “She’s gone—she’s not there anymore! You have to come help!”
Mom glanced at Dad, concern flashing across her face, but there was something else there too—something calmer, more resigned.
“Calm down,” Dad said, standing up slowly. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. She’s probably playing a game or hiding. You know how she is.”
“No, you don’t get it! She’s gone! She didn’t leave on her own! I saw something, it… it took her!”
Dad’s face hardened, the usual sternness returning. “Enough, already. We’re not playing these games.”
“But I’m telling the truth! There were red eyes, and it lifted the van! You didn’t see it, but I did!” My voice cracked, teetering between frustration and fear.
Mom walked over, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Sweetheart, you’re upset. I know you’re scared, but your sister didn’t get taken by any monster. Sometimes, when bad things happen, our minds make up stories to help us cope. You’ve always had a vivid imagination.”
Her tone was soothing, almost too calm for the situation. I shook my head, my stomach churning.
“But… but I saw—”
“She didn’t get taken by a monster,” Mom repeated, her voice firmer now. “Your sister was kidnapped. That’s all. The police will come soon, and we’ll find her. Don’t blame yourself for what happened. It’s not your fault.”
Kidnapped. That word hung in the air, heavy and foreign. It felt wrong, too simple to explain what I saw. But the way they said it, like it was already decided, settled. My heart dropped into my stomach.
“No,” I muttered, shaking my head. “No, that’s not what happened. I saw something. There were red eyes.”
Dad sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know you’re upset. It’s hard to accept, but there’s no monster. You were scared, and your mind played tricks on you.”
I wanted to argue, to make them believe me, but the words stuck in my throat. I was fighting a losing battle.
They wouldn’t listen.
But I knew what I saw.
In the days that followed, my sister’s disappearance became the talk of the neighborhood. The police came, asking questions, searching the area, but they didn’t find anything. People came and went, bringing food, offering sympathy, but none of it mattered. Every time someone asked me what happened, I could only tell them the same thing: I saw red eyes.
And every time, they’d give me that same look—half pity, half disbelief.
Dad wouldn’t talk about it. He buried himself in work. Mom, on the other hand, hovered around me constantly, always checking in, always saying the same thing.
“Don’t blame yourself.”
But how could I not? I left her. I ran inside. I should’ve stayed, should’ve protected her.
But the worst part was the gnawing doubt. What if they were right? What if there was no creature, no red eyes? What if it was all in my head, a trick my mind played on me to make sense of losing her?
I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, replaying that moment over and over. The red eyes, the van lifting off the ground, her face as I told her to stay put.
What if I was wrong?