The boy awoke to the sound of a woman screaming.
"Mom?" he called out, jumping out of bed. He quickly ran from his room over to the master bedroom, and stopped in his tracks. It almost looked like the door was glowing a sickly green.
"Are you okay?" he called out, only to be met with another scream. The boy pushed his long, dirty blond hair out of his eyes, steeled his will, and pushed open the door.
Green smoke poured out from the doorway, and the boy jumped back in fear, before pushing on and going in. He looked at the bed, and saw his mother floating a good several feet off of the bed. He ran over and tried to push her down, and as he did so, her hand shot up to grab his wrist.
She turned to him, and her face seemed to light up with a deep, intense look of fear and hatred. Her eyes glowed that same sickly green and she said in a voice the boy was sure wasn't hers,
"The boy will raze us. He must be stopped. No, he must be saved. He must be destroyed, the little one so brave."
Then, as quickly as she had begun screaming, she stopped. The smoke abruptly vanished, as if it had never been there, and the boy's mother's faded to a soft brown.
The mother looked at the boy, bemused. "What are you doing up so late, honey?" she admonished him, "Your father is going to be very mad at you when he comes home."
The boy, still in shock at what had just happened, humbly nodded, "Yes mom, I'm sorry."
The boy slowly trod back to his room, thinking about his mother's sickness. That's the fourth time this month mom's gone crazy, how long until dad comes home. The boy got to his bed and tucked himself in, before getting to a fitful sleep.
The boy's name was Luke Castellan, and he was only seven years old.