"When the rain falls and the thunder crashes
When the wind howls and the lightning flashes
Don't pull off the covers, don't turn out the light
Or the Thing will come and drag you into the night
He's older than cats, older than dogs
Older than crickets, older than frogs
He's older than me and he's older than you
He's older than humans, and earth, and time too
The Thing is the oldest creature indeed
A giant old beast that has not a need
He'll take you, though, he takes them all
He'll take any one who hears his call
A piercing cry that shatters the dark
If you hear the noise, it leaves a mark
Not one that shows or that you can see
But he always knows, and take you will he
So when the rain falls and the thunder crashes
When the wind howls and the lightning flashes
Cover your ears, don't make a peep
Or the Thing will come, and forever you'll sleep."
A little boy shivered, burrowing deeper under the covers as his mummy laughed. "Now, Timmy, no need to be frightened, love. S'just a story, nothin' to worry about." Timmy's mummy leaned over to kiss his forehead, wishing him a goodnight. With that, she tucked the little book under her arm, glancing back at her son before flipping off the light and closing the door to his room.
Little Timmy clutched at his covers, eyes glued to the window, watching the lightning spider-web across the sky. He jolted as a crash of thunder sounded, whimpering as the wind howled, a branch clawing past his window with a groan. He attempted to calm himself, chiding himself for being so silly; a girl wouldn't be scared of a little ol' storm like this. After all, they got 'em a lot this time of year. A smug smile spread across his features as his courage bolstered.
Then, he heard it.
It was high, sharp, what he imagined a dog whistle would sound like if he was a dog and could hear one. It sounded like someone - or something- screaming. Something crying.
Immediately, little Timmy yanked the covers over his head, clapping his hands over his ears, breath coming out in short pants as he trembled. He was being silly again, he had to be. After all, the Thing his mummy had read about wasn't real, she'd even said so. But he'd heard it, heard it crying out in the storm, just like the story said. He really didn't like that story, he decided. He'd have to have mummy throw it out or give it away. It was a scary story, and besides, who ever heard of a monster making someone sleep forever? It usually just ate 'em all up, didn't it? Yeah, no good story ended with someone just going to sleep. Sleep was boring.
Little Timmy was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn't notice the heavy breathing of the creature next to his bed, nor did he notice the high-pitched, shrill giggle. He didn't even notice when it reached for him, placing a hand over the quivering lump in the middle of the bed until it stilled. No one noticed until the next morning, when Timmy's mummy walked into his room and noticed he was missing. Not just missing.
Taken.