"Oh, what a lovely house!"
The 20 year old woman, dressed in green, delighted over the old kitchen with it's fireplace. She wandered from room to room, her beautiful red hair flowing behind her, exclaiming over various aspects of the ancient home. Her husband followed reluctantly behind.
"Amy, I'm not so sure about this."
"Oh, come on, Craig. It's perfect."
His eyes flitted to the shadows. He could have sworn he'd seen something move... Shaking his head, he replied.
"Oh, fine. Let's at least get our room set up, though, I'm tired."
And so they went to the baby's room. To them, there was no crib at all, only a room rather in the state of the rest of the house. However, just because Amy and Craig could not see It, did not mean It couldn't see them.
Because, dear children, it saw.
I think it almost regretted setting the Morti on Amy, once he saw her hair, flowing like fire from Lucifer's inner chambers of hell.
" 'Night, Amy."
Amy curled up tighter under her blankets. Though she had previously gushed about the house, she did not like this room, not one bit. Her eyes roved from corner to crevice, following feigned shadows.
Just my imagination, she told herself.
It was- until a Morti popped out of the cradle's corner.
She screamed as it's white, mucus covered skin touched her neck.
The Morti squeezed.
His touch was the last thing she ever felt.
Craig never woke up.