The room fell into complete silence.

Nobody could take their eyes off the photograph.

The dark shadow behind the baby’s crib had never been there before.

The father looked at the doctor.

“Did anyone else see that?”

The doctor slowly nodded.

“It wasn’t there a minute ago.”

The newborn suddenly began laughing again.

Not crying.

Laughing.

The nurse stepped closer to the bassinet.

As she reached for the baby…

Every monitor in the room suddenly turned off.

The lights flickered three times.

Outside, thick fog rolled across San Francisco Bay.

Then…

A loud alarm echoed from somewhere above.

The doctor froze.

“That’s the rooftop emergency alarm.”

“But nobody has been up there for twenty years.”

The father remembered the old brass key.

He held it tightly.

“It must fit something.”

The entire family followed the doctor toward the rooftop.

The elevator refused to move.

Instead…

It stopped on a floor that didn’t exist on the directory.

Floor 13.

The doors slowly opened by themselves.

A long empty hallway stretched into darkness.

At the very end stood an old wooden door.

Above it hung a faded sign.

“Nursery – 2003”

The doctor whispered,

“This hospital never had a thirteenth floor.”

The father placed the old key into the lock.

Click.

The door slowly opened.

Inside was an abandoned nursery covered in dust.

Rows of tiny empty bassinets filled the room.

Only one bassinet wasn’t empty.

Inside lay another sealed white envelope.

Written across the front were five chilling words:

“For The Baby Born Today.”

The father slowly reached for it…

Before he could touch it…

A baby’s laughter echoed from somewhere behind him.

Everyone turned around.

The room was empty.

Then the nursery door slammed shut.

The screen faded to black.