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It’s a chilly, autumn afternoon in Mandela County; fallen leaves - dried and decayed - all around, some swept by the wind, whilst others lay in piles.
Two children find themselves in the neighborhood’s park, one sitting upon the swing set - flying through the air, wind in his hair and a wide-eyed smile on his face as he cheers.
The other stands closely behind with an equally large smile as he sees his friend’s expression lit with joy. “Cesar, you’re g-gonna fall off!” Mark Heathcliff, age 8, exclaims with a stutter.
“I’m not gonna!” Answers back one Cesar Torres, 9 years old - clad in a clear white polo and a cherry-red bowtie wrapped neatly around the boy’s collar. “You’re such a worrywart, Mark.”
“Oh yeah?” Mark grins - dark, baggy hoodie tied around his grey tee, just above his cargo shorts. “Don’t complain to me when you f-f-fall off and scrape a knee, then!”
The two continue their playful bickering as - the constant chatter accompanied only by their joy-filled laughter filling the empty space of the park. So deeply invested in each other’s attention, time passes by faster than either of them expects it to.
The sky bleeds a dark orange hue as the sun begins to set past the horizon, leaving the once bright-blue tint to shift into something of a darker shade - much to their dismay.
“Aw, it’s getting dark already?” Cesar sulks, lips pushed forward in a pout as Mark continues pushing the boy, albeit at a slower pace.
“Hey, it’s o-okay! We can still play tomorrow, I think. Maybe we can even have a sleepover?” The young brunette suggests, smiling eagerly.
Cesar turns around - mouth in an ‘o’ shape and brown eyes beaming. “A sleepover sounds fun!” he responds, only for the boy’s expression to shift into that of thoughtful sadness.
“Oh wait, my mom might not let me…” He trails off with a frown, fingers gripping against the swingset’s ropes as his gaze falls down to the ground. “Mamá doesn’t like it when I go out to people’s houses to play.”
“Maybe you can still ask. It’s better than not trying at all, r-right? That’s what my dad tells me!”
Cesar looks up, turning to his friend. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.” He says, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his ears. “I should probably get back home, it’s getting really late.”
He hops off - shoes touching the dirt below. “See you tomorrow, Mark!” He turns to the brunette, waving a goodbye before he walks off.
Mark responds back behind him - a loud yell and a waving arm, and he can practically feel the smile that the boy says the farewell with. “Bye, Cesar!”
Cesar Torres wakes; to a sound in his room that pulls him from the faint veil of sleep he’d been in moments prior. His eyes flutter open to the pitch-blackness of his room, and he stares-
Stares, as two crescent moon-shaped eyes - unblinking, unmoving - stare back at him.
A breach hitches in his throat as fear overwhelms his thoughts. A scream rises to the top, but for some reason, it anyone.
It doesn’t come out.
He freezes, stuck in dreadful terror that reaches up to his neck, threatening to drown him beneath its suffocating hold. Tears spring to the corner of his eyes.
The beat of his heart rings loudly in his ears, like a drum.
Once. Twice. Three times-
Cesar Torres’s heart stops beating, expression frozen in complete horror with tears sliding down his cheeks.
The sounds of steps - the wooden floor creaking underneath them - echo in the darkness that shrouds Cesar’s house.
In the far distance, orange blooms from the dark-blue sky - its faint light streaming in from the windows as night turns to dawn.
The sound of a door opening - handle turning and lock clicking - rings out slowly as Maria Torres exits her bedroom, having heard a noise from the hallway outside.
“Hello? Who… who’s there?” She calls out, receiving no answer. Had she…imagined it? Maybe, maybe she’d just been tired-
The sound of footsteps start once more, getting louder and louder in front of her - the darkness that seemed to stretch infinitely preventing her from seeing the source.
“Wh-whoever you are, get out of our house!” She yells, trying her best to mask the fear dripping from her voice. “I’ll- I’ll call the cops if you don’t leave right now!”
Silence follows her words, and just as she reaches for the phone in the wall, Cesar Torres walks forward through the darkness, much to his mother’s confusion - the top half of his face covered by the boy’s hair.
“Cesar, mijo? ¡Deberías estar dormido! Why are you awake?” She asks, concerned. “You had me worried, I thought there was a stranger in our house!”
“I’m sorry, mamá.” He says with a sniffle, and she stares - saddened. “I had a nightmare, I wanted to sleep in your room tonight.”
“Oh querido. Of course, you can. Come, let’s go.” She kneels down to give him a soothing hug.
A sharp pain goes through her chest. Her eyes go wide.
“Ce…sar…?” She mutters through the unbearable pain as dark spots inked upon the edges of her vision.
He raises his head to look her in the eye-
His face is pitch dark - white dots in the spots where her son’s caramel-brown eyes should be. ‘Cesar’ smiles, a grin so wicked and demented that she could feel her stomach - a gaping wound next to it - churn with pure horror.
His hand grips tightly upon the handle of the kitchen knife buried into her, leaking a crimson that paints her dress a shade of red akin to his bowtie.
This wasn’t her son-
This wasn’t her son, and it was too late.
“Who- where-” She blabbers, stuttering, with no real conviction behind her words as tears sprung to the corner of her eyes - dripping to the wooden floor below.
“Where’s my son…?”
It grins, and without pause, pushes the blade deeper within her flesh.
“What do you mean, Má. Don’t you recognize your beloved hijo?” It asks, mockingly - in a voice so painfully familiar, and yet, different.
Why had she not noticed earlier?
As the last remnants of her consciousness drifted, like the blood that seeped out of her wound with unnatural fervor, the last thing she sees is that smile:
A smile, unnatural and abnormal on her sweet son’s face.
“Dulces sueños, mamá.” It says, almost soothingly.
Her eyes drift close.
It’s early morning in Mandela County - the sun peaking past the hills to the east.
“Mark? My mom said yes! Can I come over later today?” Cesar Torres says through the phone in his hand, sunny cheerfulness in his voice.
A few meters from him, Maria Torres - her body, cold and unmoving.