The Strange Sounds- Story Of The Day

The Strange Sounds 

It started as a quiet, ordinary afternoon. Edduin, my three-year-old son, was in his room, having just been put down for his afternoon nap. The house was calm, the hum of the refrigerator and the soft whirr of the ceiling fan the only sounds breaking the silence. I went about my usual routine, tidying up the living room and folding laundry. The peace was exactly what I needed. Life had been hectic lately with work, errands, and everything in between, and I cherished these quiet moments when I could relax.

But then, I heard it.

At first, I thought it was the sound of Edduin talking to himself, maybe making up a little game in his crib. But as I listened more closely, I realized that the sound wasn’t coming from him at all. It was laughter. Soft giggles, like someone was in the room with him.

A cold shiver ran down my spine as I froze, standing still in the middle of the hallway. The laughter continued, innocent and playful, but it didn’t make sense. No one else was supposed to be here. The only other person who lived with us was my husband, Mark, and he was out running errands.

I set down the laundry basket in my hands and walked slowly toward Edduin’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and as I approached, I heard the giggling again. It was faint, like a whisper, but unmistakable. My heart began to race as I threw the door open, expecting to find someone inside.

But there was no one.

Edduin lay in his crib, staring up at me with wide, innocent eyes. He didn’t appear scared or disturbed—just curious, like he hadn’t noticed anything unusual. The room was quiet again, and the only sound was the soft rustling of the baby blanket as it moved with his slow, steady breathing. I felt a wave of relief, but also confusion.

I stepped inside the room, looking around. The closet was empty. The bathroom door was closed, and when I opened it, there was nothing. I even checked under the bed, half-expecting to find some explanation, but there was none.

“Maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me,” I muttered to myself. “It’s been a long week.”

I tried to calm myself down, convincing myself that the giggling had been a figment of my imagination. But as I left the room and closed the door behind me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Part 2: The Repetition 

Days went by, and I tried to push the incident out of my mind. Work was overwhelming, and I didn’t have time to dwell on odd noises. But then it happened again.

This time, it was clearer. Edduin had been asleep for about twenty minutes, and I was making dinner in the kitchen when I heard it again—the soft, giggling sound. It was coming from his room. It was faint but distinct, like a child’s laughter.

My pulse quickened as I wiped my hands on a dish towel and walked toward his room. The door was shut this time, but as I reached for the handle, I heard the giggle again—closer this time, as if someone was whispering in his ear.

I opened the door quickly, my breath shallow, but once again, I found Edduin alone in his crib, staring up at me with those wide, innocent eyes. The room was silent, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioning.

I looked around the room, my eyes darting from corner to corner. No one was there. No one was even hiding. I stepped inside again, checking the closet, the bathroom, under the crib, and even behind the curtains. I couldn’t find a single person. My heart raced with unease. The house was empty, and Edduin was just as calm as before.

But I couldn’t ignore the fact that the laughter was real.

I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination. Maybe it was stress, maybe the house settling, but deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. That night, as I lay in bed, the sound of Edduin giggling echoed in my mind. I couldn’t escape it.

Part 3: The Baby Monitor 

The giggles continued every afternoon. At first, I tried to ignore them, telling myself they were just random noises I was misinterpreting. But then I began to worry. Was Edduin seeing something I couldn’t? Was he playing with an imaginary friend?

I couldn’t just let it go anymore. I needed answers. So I did what any modern parent might do: I decided to install a baby monitor. Not just any baby monitor, though—one with Wi-Fi capabilities so I could keep an eye on him even when I wasn’t in the room.

It wasn’t about not trusting my son; it was about peace of mind. If there was something going on, I wanted to see it for myself.

The monitor arrived a few days later. It was a sleek, high-tech camera that I could set up in his room, and it promised to provide clear audio and video. I set it up quickly, positioning it in the corner of his room to get a full view of his crib and the rest of the room.

That afternoon, after I put Edduin down for his nap, I opened the app on my phone and waited.

At first, nothing happened. I sat in the living room, my mind racing with all sorts of possibilities. Was I being paranoid? Were these just random noises? But then, just ten minutes after I turned on the camera, something caught my eye.

Movement.

The camera showed Edduin, lying perfectly still in his crib, but the room seemed different. There was something in the corner of the screen—a flicker, a shape. At first, I thought it was a glitch, but then the figure became clearer. There was something—or rather, someone—standing at the foot of his crib.

My stomach dropped.

I jumped up from the couch and rushed to his room. My mind was racing, my heart pounding as I prayed that I was just overreacting. But when I threw open the door, the room was empty. Edduin was still in his crib, lying exactly the same way he had been when I left him.

I looked around, scanning every inch of the room. No one. No movement. Just the usual stillness of the room.

The monitor, though, was still showing that odd flicker. It wasn’t a glitch, not at all. My hand trembled as I stared at the screen.

The image didn’t lie. Something—or someone—had been in that room.

The Mystery Deepens 

The days that followed felt heavy with anticipation. I kept the baby monitor running, constantly hoping for a glimpse of an explanation—anything that could make sense of the strange events unfolding in Edduin’s room. The more I watched, the more I realized that this wasn’t just my imagination. There was something real going on.

I couldn’t escape the feeling of being watched, and it wasn’t just the feeling of being paranoid. There were moments, especially at night, when I would hear the giggling again, soft and childlike, drifting through the walls. Sometimes, the sound was so faint that I almost convinced myself I had misheard, but then there would be a flicker on the monitor that would send a chill down my spine.

One night, I decided to stay up late, watching the monitor for longer than I ever had before. It was around midnight when I noticed it again—movement. It was slight, barely perceptible, but I could see something shifting in Edduin’s crib. I froze, my heart skipping a beat, and I held my breath. For a second, I thought I saw a figure, barely there but undeniably present.

I rushed to Edduin’s room, dread tightening in my chest. When I opened the door, I found Edduin sitting up in his crib, staring at me with wide eyes. His expression was calm, but there was a tension in the air, as if he knew something I didn’t. There was no one else in the room, no sign of a person or an intruder. But the atmosphere had shifted.

I felt a cold draft, as though someone had opened a window, but all the windows were shut. The room felt heavy, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. I walked over to Edduin, my skin crawling, and I gently placed my hand on his back, trying to reassure both him and myself that everything was fine.

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t fine.

I couldn’t understand it. I checked every corner of the room again, every closet, every crevice. There was no one. The only explanation I could come up with was that I had to be imagining it. But why did I feel so sure that there was more to it than just imagination? Why did the hairs on the back of my neck stand up every time I entered Edduin’s room?

The Unseen Presence 

The strange occurrences continued, each one more unsettling than the last. Every time I left Edduin alone, I would hear the giggling from his room, always faint, always soft, but growing more distinct over time. It wasn’t just in the evenings anymore. Sometimes, I would hear it during the day when the house was quiet, and I was sure that I was the only one home.

One afternoon, I was sitting on the couch, folding laundry when I heard it again. The giggle. I stood up immediately, a cold shiver running down my spine, and rushed to Edduin’s room. This time, I wasn’t just hearing it from the monitor. I could hear it clearly from the hallway, as if someone was in the room with him.

I threw the door open, panic gripping my chest. There was Edduin, sitting in his crib, his back to the door, and once again, he was perfectly calm. But there was something in the air. Something that didn’t belong. It felt like the room was waiting for something to happen.

I took a deep breath, stepping inside the room. “Edduin,” I whispered softly, but he didn’t respond. His little hands were resting on the sides of the crib, and his eyes were wide, staring at something in the corner of the room. I followed his gaze but saw nothing.

And then, I heard it again—soft giggling. It was so faint I almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of my own heartbeat, but it was there, coming from the same corner where Edduin had been staring.

My pulse quickened, and I stepped toward that corner, not knowing what I was expecting to find. I reached down to pick up Edduin, but as I did, the room suddenly felt colder. The air seemed to shift, and I felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over me.

It was in that moment that I realized: this wasn’t my imagination. Something—or someone—was in the room with us.

The Guardian or the Intruder? 

The next day, I decided to take a different approach. I needed to see the footage again. I needed proof. I set up the baby monitor again, but this time, I didn’t just leave it to record for a few minutes. I left it running for hours, hoping that whatever was happening in the room would reveal itself.

I spent the afternoon cleaning the house and checking the monitor intermittently, but every time I glanced at the screen, nothing out of the ordinary happened. No shadows, no giggles, no figures standing at the crib. It was as if the room was empty—still and quiet.

It wasn’t until late in the evening that I noticed something strange on the footage. Just as I was about to turn off the monitor and head to bed, I saw it again: a flicker, this time clearer than before. A faint shadow that appeared near Edduin’s crib.

I squinted at the screen. It wasn’t just a trick of the light or a malfunction. It was real. It was a shape—a figure—standing at the edge of the crib, as though it was watching him. The figure wasn’t solid, more like a mist or a shadow that flickered in and out of existence.

My heart pounded in my chest as I rushed to Edduin’s room, my legs shaking beneath me. The room was silent. No giggling, no shadows. Just Edduin, sleeping peacefully in his crib. But the footage didn’t lie. Something was there. Something that wasn’t visible to the naked eye.

I started to feel like I was losing my mind. Why couldn’t I see this figure in person? Was it possible that the baby monitor was picking up something that I couldn’t? And what was the presence in the room? Was it malevolent, or was it something protective? The giggling had always seemed so innocent, but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if the entity had been there to keep Edduin safe.

I needed answers. Desperately.

The Unexpected Help 

The next day, I called in a favor. A close friend of mine, Laura, had always been into the supernatural. She was one of those people who believed in energy, spirits, and otherworldly things. She had a reputation for being able to “sense” things that others couldn’t, and when I explained what was happening, she offered to come over and help.

When Laura arrived, I showed her the footage, the monitor, and explained everything that had been happening. She listened carefully, her brow furrowing as she watched the footage of the flickering figure. She didn’t say anything at first, but I could tell she was thinking deeply.

“This is something,” she said finally, her voice low. “This isn’t just a glitch or your imagination. There’s a presence here. And it’s connected to your son.”

I looked at her, confused. “Connected to him? But why? Why him?”

Laura took a deep breath and looked around the room. “I think whatever this is, it’s trying to protect him. Spirits are drawn to children because they’re pure, they haven’t yet been hardened by the world. But not all spirits are bad. Some are here to guide, to protect.”

I wasn’t sure whether to feel reassured or terrified. “So, you think it’s a guardian?”

“Maybe,” she said with a nod. “But I can’t say for certain. We need to find out more.”

She stayed with me for the rest of the day, and together, we began researching. We looked into local legends and spiritual beliefs, trying to find any information that might explain what was happening. We found stories of spirits that watched over children, of protectors that took form as shadows or mist.

That night, Laura set up a ritual. She asked me to sit with her in Edduin’s room, to focus, and to open my mind. She spoke softly, invoking spirits of protection, and after a few minutes, she turned to me with wide eyes.

“There’s a connection here, Nat. This spirit… it’s been watching over him for a long time.”

I felt a shiver run through me, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. Maybe this wasn’t something I had to fear after all.

The Guardian Revealed 

The next few days were different. I started to feel a change in the air around me. The giggling stopped, and the presence in the room became less oppressive. It was as though the spirit had acknowledged that I understood its purpose and had accepted that I was no longer afraid.

And then, one afternoon, when Edduin was napping, I saw something that confirmed everything I had learned. On the baby monitor, I saw the figure again, but this time it wasn’t flickering. It was clear—an outline of a woman, standing at the crib, watching over him.

Her form was soft, like a glowing mist, but her presence was unmistakable. She wasn’t just a shadow. She was there, standing guard.

Edduin stirred in his crib, and for the first time, I didn’t feel fear. I felt a sense of peace wash over me. The spirit wasn’t here to harm us. It was here to protect us.

I stood there, staring at the monitor, and I realized that I had nothing to fear. This wasn’t a haunting. This was a protector, watching over my son. And I was no longer afraid.

The presence that had once terrified me had become a part of our lives, and I knew now that Edduin was safe. Safe from harm, safe from danger, and safe from whatever dark forces might be lurking in the world.

As I stood in the doorway of Edduin’s room, watching him sleep peacefully, I finally felt at peace myself. Whatever this spirit was, it was with us. And we would be just fine.