Mama Jolting awake, he rustled his damp sandy hair eyes wide with fear and adrenaline pumping, the youth gasped for much needed oxygen as beads of sweat dripped down his face. Moments passed as the young boy gathered his thoughts, but as those moments passed a soft melody reached his ears. "Hush little baby, don't you cry..." The eerie voice chilled him to his very core. "Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird…" The family tune carried a chilling tone, unlike any he had heard before. "And if that mocking bird don't sing..." The voice was close now, too close. The song, once used for comfort, now slowly drained him of his sanity, the hairs on his neck raised high upon his neck and his eyes wide in horror. "Then Mama will brake that birdies neck..." Long, skeletal fingers curved around his small, child-like neck. The #lifeless, dull and painfully rough skin contrasted drastically against the soft, delicate, skin of his throat. The young boy, frozen with fear, battled with his traitorous mouth as he so desperately begged to cry out for his mother. "Shhh shhh child, mother's here, don't you worry your pretty little face..." Sang the voice in a hushed whisper. The boy shook violently, this THING was not his mother and never will be. He thrashed and squirmed, yet it's grip remained unharmed. "Sweetheart, don't you recognise me, it's your mother..." The voice taunted followed by a harmonious yet chilling giggle. "What's wrong darling..? Don't you love your mummy? Doesn't mama make you happy anymore..? Mama is going to make you Happy forever more..." Towards the end the voice lost it's chilling chime and became something more... Sinister... Agonisingly slow, the young teen turned towards the voice, catching the glint of a metallic object in the moonlight. Alas, it was too late. The young boy from London noticed the presence of the kitchen knife too late. Much. Too. Late. In the still, cold night of London, illuminated by the moons beautiful rays, a young teen with damp sandy hair, jolted awake eyes wide with fear and his adrenaline pumping, collected the pieces of his broken sanity. What was the dream - no, nightmare about? Who or what was that? He froze as an all too familiar feeling of horror washed over him like a tsunami. "Hush little baby, don't you cry...Mama will be here till the morning sky..."