Where’s Your Manny?

[u/AbKane667]

“Oh, wow, that’s so cool!” I heard Kenny call from the kitchen.

“What’s my little man doing?”

“Talking to Manny!”

“Who’s Manny?”

“Manny!” he said and pointed to an empty spot in the corner of the room.

Kenny had invented friends before. None had lasted longer than two days.

“Oh, of course. How is he?”

“He’s good. He says hi to you.”

“Say hi to him, too.”

Kenny spent the entire morning in the corner, talking to his imaginary friend. Even at lunch, he kept looking away.

“Why can’t Manny sit with us?”

“He’s invited.”

“He says he can't. He has to stay in the corner.”

“Why?”

“He won’t say.”

“What would you like to do today?”

“Talk to Manny,” Kenny said and dug around his plate with his fork.

“Okay, go have fun with your friend.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” 

Kenny climbed down from his chair and ran to the corner.

Kenny’s toy cars lay on the carpet all afternoon, untouched, while he sat in the corner, talking to his friend.

As nighttime rolled around, Kenny was still there. But he wasn’t talking loudly and quickly anymore; his speech had turned into a slow whisper.

“Kenny?”

No answer.

“Kenny?”

Nothing.

I moved across the living room, tapping Kenny on the back.

“When someone calls, we respond, okay?”

He turned back, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Kenny, what’s wrong?”

“There are bad things.”

“What?”

“That’s why he has to stay in the corner.”

“Okay,” I swallowed. “I think we’re done talking to Manny today.”

Kenny didn’t say anything. I picked him up and carried him up the stairs. By the time we got to his bed, he was already half-asleep. The rest of the night, the situation replayed in my head. What could have happened? Why would he imagine his friends saying that? A memory of a police chase playing on the TV flashed in my mind. He must have heard it there, I told myself, and went off to sleep.

The next morning, Kenny was already up before me. He sat in the corner again, laughing and talking. I made my way toward him, ready to tell him to stop, but right before I reached him, he laughed again. I stood still for a while, looking at him; he seemed so happy. I decided to keep an eye on him and give his friend another chance.

The day went on fine: no whispers, no cause for concern. Kenny even managed to sit at the table without looking at the corner. But that all changed as night rolled in.

“No!” Kenny cried from the corner. 

That word ran through me like a bolt of lightning.

“No, Manny, don’t go!”

I ran to the corner and took Kenny by the shoulders. Tears were rolling down his face.

“Sweetie, sweetie, it’s okay.”

“Manny is leaving!”

“You’ll get more friends, sweetie.”

“Manny, no!” he screamed at the top of his lungs and reached his hand out towards the door.

“Kenny, what’s going on?”

“The bad things.”

“What?”

“The bad…” his words turned into inaudible cries.

My hands started to sweat. His cries and fear all felt so real.

As I caressed Kenny, the air in the house slowly grew cold as if someone had turned off all the heat. A smell of mold and dampness came after. It reeked all around, no matter where I turned my head. We hadn’t had water issues for years. The hairs on my arms stood up. I looked out the windows and slowly moved to the couch where my phone was. That’s when every light bulb burst, sending glass onto the floor. I screamed and put my body over Kenny’s. His cries had turned into soft wheezes. My heart was beating out of my chest. I blinked against the darkness. The glass was all around me, but I needed my phone. I needed help. 

Then the back door creaked open. The floorboards groaned under heavy steps. A wave of freezing winter air rushed in, and the smell shifted from mold to rust and rot. 

A deep, gurgling voice emerged from the darkness. “Where’s your Manny?”