Michelle Froelick Young always thought her daughter, Lily, was an imaginative child. But nothing could have prepared her for the day she walked into the living room to find two-year-old Lily twirling paper towel tubes tied with twine like makeshift nunchucks. The sight itself wasn't alarming—kids often turned household items into toys—but when Michelle asked what she was doing, Lily's answer sent a chill racing down her spine.
"I'm practicing my nun chucks," Lily said matter-of-factly, her tiny hands gripping the makeshift weapons with surprising precision.
Michelle blinked, confused. "Your… what? Where did you learn about those?"
"Adam showed me," Lily replied without hesitation, her voice bright and cheerful, as though discussing a favorite cartoon character. "He comes every night to teach me."
Every hair on Michelle's body stood on end. Adam? It couldn't be. Not that Adam. She forced herself to stay calm, crouching beside her daughter. "Who's Adam?" she managed to ask, though her throat felt dry as sandpaper.
Lily tilted her head, puzzled by the question. "You know him, Mommy! He's tall, blond, and has blue eyes. He says I need to practice because someday I might have to protect myself."
Michelle froze, memories crashing over her like icy waves. Four months before Lily was born, her best friend Adam—a martial arts prodigy with a golden smile and piercing blue eyes—had died suddenly from a brain aneurysm. His death had been devastating, leaving behind a void that still lingered in Michelle's life.
But this… this was impossible.
Before she could respond, Lily added softly, almost conspiratorially, "Mommy, he told me something else too. He said he died of a headache."
That was it. Michelle bolted upright, her breath hitching. She needed air. Leaving the room, she pressed her back against the wall outside, trying to steady herself. Was this some bizarre coincidence? A fragment of a story someone had accidentally shared within earshot of her toddler? Or was there something far stranger at play?
Over the next few weeks, Michelle tried to dismiss the incident as a fluke. Kids made things up all the time, didn't they? Yet Lily continued to mention Adam casually, describing their nightly lessons in vivid detail. According to her, Adam wasn't just teaching her self-defense; he was showing her how to move silently, how to read people's intentions, even how to sense danger before it arrived. Each description felt eerier than the last.
One evening, unable to shake the unease gnawing at her, Michelle decided to test Lily. She brought out an old photo album containing pictures of friends and family members, including Adam. Flipping through the pages, she pointed to random faces, asking Lily if any of them were her mysterious teacher.
Without hesitation, Lily tapped the image of Adam. "That's him, Mommy. See? Tall, blond, blue eyes."
Michelle's stomach churned. This was no coincidence. Something—or someone—was reaching out to her daughter. Desperate for answers, she confided in her mother, who suggested calling a spiritual medium. Skeptical but desperate, Michelle agreed.
The medium arrived the following weekend, a soft-spoken woman named Evelyn with sharp green eyes that seemed to see straight through Michelle. After spending time with Lily, Evelyn grew quiet, her expression unreadable.
"Your daughter is special," Evelyn finally said, choosing her words carefully. "She's sensitive—to energies most of us can't perceive. This man… Adam… his spirit hasn't moved on. He's bound himself to her, perhaps believing he has unfinished business."
"Unfinished business?" Michelle echoed, dread pooling in her chest. "What kind of business?"
Evelyn hesitated. "Protection. From what, I'm not sure. But whatever it is… it's coming."
Days turned into weeks, and life returned to normal—or so Michelle hoped. Then one night, everything changed.
She woke abruptly to the sound of glass shattering downstairs. Heart pounding, she grabbed the baseball bat from her closet and crept toward the noise, adrenaline drowning out her fear. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she froze. Standing in the middle of the living room was a figure cloaked in shadow, its presence suffocating. Behind it, Lily stood frozen, clutching her makeshift nunchucks.
And then, something extraordinary happened.
Lily stepped forward, her small frame radiating a confidence Michelle had never seen before. With fluid movements, she swung the paper towel tubes, striking the intruder with uncanny accuracy. The figure staggered, letting out a guttural growl, before dissolving into smoke.
In the silence that followed, Michelle collapsed to her knees, trembling. Lily ran to her, wrapping her arms around her neck.
"It's okay, Mommy," Lily whispered. "Adam taught me well."
From that moment on, Michelle knew her daughter was no ordinary child—and neither was Adam. Whatever force had brought them together was far beyond comprehension. All she could do was hold her close and pray they'd both survive whatever came next.
But deep down, Michelle couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.