Snow was falling gently from the sky, covering everything in a soft white blanket. In a quiet village that looked more like a small town, houses stood close together, almost touching. But one house stood apart from the rest. It was a little far from the others, giving it a lonely but peaceful feeling.
This house was bigger than most of the others, and it was made mostly of wood. A thick layer of snow covered the roof like frosting on a cake. There was a small garden in front of the house, now hidden under snow. It looked simple, but not uncomfortable. It seemed like a nice place to live.
Inside, in the warm living room, a young boy about seven or eight years old sat on a soft sofa. He had plain black hair and pale white skin, and looked just like any ordinary kid. His eyes were focused on the television in front of him. His legs dangled off the edge of the sofa, and he held the remote loosely in his hand.
A cartoon was playing. It wasn't like the usual fun and silly cartoons. This one was intense. On the screen, two characters were fighting fiercely. One man wore a dark leather jacket and looked like a detective. The other was just a child—but dressed in royal clothes like an emperor from ancient times.
The man in the leather jacket pulled out two guns, holding one in each hand. He shouted loudly, "Child Emperor, you're not getting away this time! Kill… kill… kill!"
He started shooting, bullets flying all around. The child emperor dodged swiftly, his movements smooth and quick. But the bullets didn't hit him. Instead, they hit innocent people standing nearby. Chaos filled the screen as more and more people got caught in the crossfire.
The boy's eyes widened, completely hooked.
The two characters kept fighting, the scene getting more violent. But somehow, the child emperor escaped. He ran and got inside a helicopter, turning back to wave mockingly.
"In the end, the greatest hitman, Fable, couldn't kill me again! Hahaha!" the child emperor laughed as the helicopter started to rise.
But then, the hitman Fable smiled for the first time. He looked calm, almost excited.
"Oh? Is that so? Then how about this—"
The boy leaned forward on the sofa, his heart racing with excitement.
Just then—
Beep!
The screen suddenly went blank.
"Huh?!" the boy jumped up in shock. "What happened?!"
He rushed to the TV, patting the back of it like his parents sometimes did when it stopped working. Nothing changed. He changed the batteries in the remote, switched it off and on again. Still no sign of the cartoon coming back.
But when he changed the channel—
The TV worked perfectly fine.
Confused, he clicked to a news channel. On the screen, a serious-looking lady sat behind a desk, reading the news with a calm and clear voice.
"The famous cartoon show Fable vs Child Emperor has not only been cancelled but banned due to its extreme violence and bloodshed," she said.
She continued, "There have been several complaints from parents and experts, saying that the show is having a bad effect on children's minds. Some even say it's brainwashing them."
The boy just stood there, frozen.
His mouth was slightly open. His hands still held the remote, but he had stopped clicking. His favorite show... gone. Just like that.
He didn't even get to see the ending.
His reaction wasn't angry. He didn't scream or yell. Instead, he just let out a deep, tired sigh and sat back down on the sofa like someone who had given up completely.
The room was quiet now. The only sound was the voice of the news reporter coming from the television.
"The next is a breaking news! Turkey's President, Süleyman Demirel, has been assassinated by a hitman. No one has been able to catch him yet, but we now have a picture of what he looks like!"
On the screen appeared a picture of a man. He looked around forty, with slightly dark skin and a furious expression. There was a tattoo covering a scar on his face, making him look dangerous—almost like a terrorist.
Suddenly, the strong smell of alcohol entered the room. It was sharp and sour.
A loud, rough voice broke the silence.
"Wayne!"
The moment Wayne heard that voice, he froze. His whole body stiffened. His skin got goosebumps, and his little hands trembled.
He quickly turned off the TV, heart pounding, and turned around. Standing behind him was a man with the same black hair and eyes as him. But this man had dark circles under his eyes, a tired face with wrinkles—not from age, but from drinking too much and never taking care of himself.
Wayne could clearly smell the alcohol on him, even from a few steps away.
He sighed again, quietly, "Not again…"
"Where's your mother?" the man asked, his voice rough.
Wayne looked down at the floor and answered softly, "She hasn't come back from work yet…"
Smash!
The man suddenly threw his bottle on the ground, and it shattered loudly.
"That bitch!" he shouted angrily. "I know she's cheating on me!"
His eyes then turned sharply toward Wayne.
"And you! You're her child too! Stop wasting time watching TV all day and go study!"
"Y-yes!" Wayne replied quickly, feeling scared.
Just then—
*Knock!* *Knock!* *Knock!*
Someone was knocking on the door.
Wayne hurried over and opened it. Just as he thought—it was his mother.
She looked tired but still a little angry as she looked at him.
"It's 10 PM! Why are you still awake?" she scolded. "Didn't I tell you last time that if you stay up late, the Monster will come and take you?"
Wayne opened his mouth to reply, but his father's voice cut in from behind.
"Answer my question first. Why are you late again?"
His mother looked at him and noticed the broken bottle in his hand. As always, the argument started.
"Unlike someone, I actually have a job!" she snapped. "Did you drink again? Where did you get the money this time? Don't tell me you used Wayne's school fees!"
Wayne looked back and forth between the two of them. Their voices got louder. His eyes filled with sadness, and without saying anything, he quietly covered his ears with his hands and walked back into his bedroom.
He entered the room, but didn't shut the door, Just in case if any monster comes in, He can have easy time escaping out of the room.
And threw himself onto the bed. Grabbing a pillow, he pressed it tightly over his ears to block out the yelling. He curled up under the blanket, trying to sleep, hoping that when he woke up, things would somehow be better.
Wayne didn't turn off the lights in his room because he was scared of the dark. His heart always felt heavy at night, like something unknown was hiding in the shadows, waiting to jump out and hurt him.
He tucked his legs tightly under the blanket, just in case a monster was hiding under the bed. He had even placed a few pillows next to him, thinking that maybe they would keep him safe—or at least he wouldn't have to wake up and find a skeleton lying beside him.
Even after doing all that, he kept staring at the open door of his room and the ceiling above. His eyes scanned every corner, just in case something tried to crawl in from outside or drop down from above.
His eyes slowly became hazy. Sleep was about to take him, but then—his eyes opened wide again. There was a sudden urge to pee. He looked at the clock.
It was midnight.
"No... What if I get swallowed by the darkness like mother once told me? What if the Toilet Devil gets me? The one that kills kids when they lock the door?"
He shook his head and forced the urge to go away. He clenched his legs, trying his best to hold it in. But the pressure kept growing. He couldn't sleep anymore and just kept moving back and forth on the bed, whispering to himself that he could wait a little more.
But after two hours of struggling, it was too much. He couldn't take it anymore.
With a deep breath, he stood up and gathered all his courage.
He looked under his bed first—just to be sure no monster was hiding there. Then he walked slowly toward the toilet. Every step he took, he kept glancing behind him and in front of him, checking the shadows, half-expecting something to jump out.
He didn't switch on the living room light. What if a ghost noticed? What if the light suddenly flickered and turned off on its own? He didn't want to vanish like those kids in the ghost stories.
He finally reached the toilet and opened the door.
It was dark inside. The toilet hole looked like a deep, endless black pit.
He made sure not to lock the door. He just wanted to pee quickly and go back.
Just as he started to relax and let go—
Something moved.
Something black with long, thin white strands slowly dropped down from the ceiling.
It stopped right in front of his face.
"A-a spider?! AHHHHH!!"
He screamed in fear and tried to run, but his foot slipped on the cold floor, and he fell down hard.
His father was snoring in the bedroom, drunk as always. But his mother came rushing, worried by the sound.
She turned on the light and saw Wayne lying on the floor.
"What happened? Are you alright?" she asked.
Wayne stood up and brushed the floor dust off his nightclothes.
"There... there was a spider in the toilet. It scared me."
His mother's face changed immediately. Her soft worry turned into angry frustration.
"You! Getting scared by such silly things again? Are you really his son? At least your drunk father has some courage in him!"
Wayne looked down and mumbled, "I'm sorry..."
"No more 'sorry'! You need to be punished again!" she shouted, storming away.
She returned a few seconds later with his father's leather belt in her hand.
Wayne's body stiffened. He hugged himself, hoping it would hurt less. But it didn't.
Whack!... Whack!... Whack!
"All you do is sit around the house all day! You don't even play with kids your age! If you're going to be this useless, why weren't you born a girl?! At least then I would've had someone to help with the housework!"
"You can't even speak properly in front of others! What will people think of me? That I raised a weak, stuttering boy? You're just like your father—bringing me pain every single day!"
As she whipped him again and again, tears rolled down her face too.
"I work all day and come home only to hear you and your father's whining!"
Wayne dropped to his knees and kept repeating, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" over and over again.
He didn't stop until his mother finally threw the belt aside and then left him to his room and closed the door and left without any other word.
Wayne jumped onto his bed, throwing his fists and legs wildly, tears pouring down his cheeks.
"I'll kill myself one day! No... I'll run away and never come back! Only then they'll know how important I am!" he cried out, his voice shaking with pain.
He kept crying, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, his chest rising and falling as he sobbed into the pillow. His heart felt heavy, like it was full of stones. He didn't even remember when he fell asleep — his crying slowly faded into soft breathing as sleep took over.
The next morning came, bright and warm. Sunlight slipped through the small gaps in the curtains, shining on his face. When he opened his eyes, he didn't feel like crying anymore. It felt... peaceful.
To his surprise, his mother spoke to him kindly that morning. She brought him a hot cup of tea and a plate full of breakfast — toasted bread with butter and a boiled egg.
She smiled and sat beside him on the bed, gently holding his hand as she started to apply a cold cream on the small bruises from last night.
"I'm sorry, dear," she said softly, her fingers careful and warm. "Sometimes, work makes me so tired that I lose my temper. You also need to be brave, alright? And forget all those scary stories I told you before."
Wayne looked down, his eyes a little wet but no longer crying. He nodded slowly.
The truth was, Wayne's fear wasn't just because of his father's anger — it was also because of the terrifying ghost stories his mother told him growing up. She always used them to control him.
"Come back before 5 PM or the monster will eat you."
"Don't go near dark places, or a man with no head will drag you away."
All of those words had stuck deep in his heart, haunting his mind even now. He couldn't forget them, even when he tried.
But today, his mother looked different. Softer. Warmer.
She gently rubbed the cream on his arm and leg and back, on the wounds from last night and said with a caring tone, "Everything I do is for you. I just want you to focus on your studies, not fall in with the wrong kids. I just want the best for you."
She brushed her hand through his hair. Wayne felt something warm grow in his chest.
"Yes! I understand, Mom," he replied, trying his best to smile.
At that moment, his father also walked into the living room. He looked tired and slow, rubbing his head from the hangover. His hair was messy, and he walked like he hadn't slept well.
"Ahem… I didn't spend anyone's school fees," he muttered, picking up his plate. "I just went to a party with my friend last night."
Wayne blinked and looked at him, a bit surprised. "He didn't?" he thought, and a spark of happiness lit up in his chest.
Then suddenly, his mother gave him a tight, warm hug. Her arms were soft and smelled like shampoo and home.
"I made your favorite lunch today!" she said cheerfully. "Enjoy your day at school, alright?"
Wayne's heart jumped. His mood from last night was completely gone now. He stood up quickly, full of energy, his school bag ready.
He waved to his mother, and she waved back with a bright smile on her face. His father sat quietly, eating breakfast. Wayne looked around the house — the warm smell of food, the sound of birds outside, the quiet peace in the room.
He smiled wide.
"Yes! Everything is for my own good. Mother loves me. Father loves me. I was just overthinking everything!"
He turned to open the door, his eyes shining.
"We are a happy family!"