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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Street_Camera_1258 on 2024-11-06 15:11:54+00:00.
Hello,
Let me start by saying I don't believe in curses and I am not religious. My name is Doug, and my wife and I have struggled with our son. He has sleep problems that just came from nowhere. It all started one night, it was only a week or so ago, on the night of the first rainfall, we live in a pretty small eastern coastal town of Briggem, so when it rains it can get pretty bad. I was at my home watching reruns of Miami Vice, while my wife was getting dinner ready. We live in my childhood home, a single story. I had our youngest daughter in her walker. When the rain started to hit the window.
That was when Charlotte and I realized we didn't know where Finn, our 10-year-old was. We called all over from his friends' parents to the school. No one knew. My wife started to blame me, while I was getting my coat on to go - at this point, I was a few beers down the chute when I opened the door ignoring my wife's rant - and there he was. He stood there on the front step, drenched. I don't know how long he was there or what I just took my son in and hugged him. I carried him inside and put a towel around him, trying to warm him up. My wife started to draw a bath, through her cloudy eyes. I asked him where he was and why no one knew where he went.
He just said, "I wanted to go to the woods." I didn't find anything wrong with this, I used to go to the same woods all the time when I was a kid with my brother and with friends.
"Near the creek?"
He nodded.
"Did you see anything?"
My boy just looked up at me his blue lips barely hanging onto his face and shook his head.
"Something red."
I didn't know what the hell that meant so I helped walk him over to the bathroom where my wife was and she started to take care of him. I just walked back towards the family room, aghast at what I allowed to happen. I didn't know what to do so I just thanked whoever was listening in my head.
My wife and I knew that he was probably going to get a cold or something worse from this, so we kept an ear open and barely slept ourselves that night. His coughs kept us up as we took shifts while sitting nearby. Some were empty like a wheeze scratching the walls of his throat while they escaped, others were full of gunk and sludge, followed by him rolling over and spitting the excess in the nearby trashcan. It was around 5 am when I tapped my wife out, letting her go to sleep for an hour or so. I sat there after brewing some coffee and listened to Finn go through hell. In Times like this it's good to have a wife who's as caring as Charlotte, when I have to go to work, I know that she will be here with my kids. I was slightly nodding off around 5:30 before I awoke. Something was off, I didn't know why yet but I could feel it.
That was when it hit me. I was dozing off because the house was silent. I jumped up from my seat and ran into my son's room. The door slammed against the wall as I dove at my son fearing the worst. Swearing at myself for not taking him to the emergency room. But, as I got to him I realized his chest moving up and down. He was fine. He was better than fine, he looked as peaceful as ever sleeping. Lying on his side, his left hand under his head. Even my landing on him barely made him budge. I scratched my head looking around. When I looked in his garbage off the edge of the bed, where I imagined seeing a mound of phlegm and mucus but nothing was in there. Nothing at all. Thinking I lost my mind I just shook my head and walked out of his room. Over a day or so Finn was all back to normal health and at school.
A few nights later, it happened. I got up out of bed around 1 am, I was the one having trouble that night. I walked into our kitchen and opened the fridge, reaching into the case and opening the tab on the side so it wouldn't crack too loud and wake my wife. I took a long sip of it, following it with a loud breath. The cool lager put my mind at ease as I turned from the fridge - he stood there. Half covered by the door frame he watched me. I put the can behind my back, failing to hide what he clearly already saw.
"What's up, buddy?"
"Why do you drink so late Dad?"
I just shrugged bringing the tone down in the conversation to again not wake my wife. I put my finger up to my mouth to shush him a little. I opened my mouth to try to answer -
"Do you drink because of Kevin?"
My answer got caught in my throat before it could exit. He blinked at me - twice. Then he turned around and went into his room. Leaving me speechless. I could only clench my teeth together, hidden behind my cheeks. I drank the last bit of my beer and couldn't help but open another.
I barely told Finn about Kevin. I barely told Charlotte. I kept it in my head, and just with my parents. I still never understood. Kevin was my little brother. I don't know if I wanted to get into it. But, over the last few nights, I need to talk about it. See Finn has gotten worse, not coughing or anything he hasn't been right. He just hasn't slept, at all. It was bad, Charlotte found him one night, she checked on him just slipping her head through the cracked door. He was in bed, but sitting straight up. Staring at the wall, he didn't even turn to her when she called him. He was in a trance, mouth open, his breathing in deep and out shallow. She ran over to him, rubbing his back his breathing got better but his eyes stayed on the wall. When she came to our room and told me, I had nothing to say, I chalked it up to maybe a horror show or movie he caught when we weren't paying attention. I told her that I was going to check on him as she got into bed, I left my room but on my way to his something overtook me. I couldn't have him ask more about Kevin, at least not yet.
I turned into my kitchen and grabbed my bottle of vodka from above the fridge and walked out into my garage. I only took a few pulls, but it was hard to keep down, I got so used to just beer. I walked into my home after getting a good bit of the bottle down. I put it back grabbed the OJ carton out of the fridge, and took a few sips out of it. That's when I heard the giggling coming from the crack of Finn's room. It was light and soft, but it creeped the hell out of me. I decided to try to look in the room myself, the dark room was only lit by the window above his bed. But, he wasn't in it. The sheets and covers were thrown to the side. Then I heard the giggles, there were two of them. My head whipped over towards my right where Finn stood by his wall. I turned to the lights on in fear, as Finn slowly turned to me. I looked in the room for a second.
"Go to bed, Finn."
He nodded and slowly walked back to his bed. I shut off the light after taking one more look in the room. I couldn't sleep that night. Not a minute. Because, before I turned his lights on, I could have sworn I saw a hand reaching and touching my son's face.
The next morning I was out and about I forgot what for, but on my way home I saw the flashing lights. I saw the ambulance rush past me out of my neighborhood. I feared the worst and sped home. I found my wife on the porch, crying on the phone. I jumped out of the car and held her asking her what happened.
She told me this verbatim: She was doing laundry, and our daughter was in the living room bouncing. She went to bring folded laundry into Finn's room, hoping that he was napping and catching some sleep. She didn't even knock; she just barely opened it - she saw him in there. She saw our boy standing in the center of his room, arched backward, his head almost touching his calves. She couldn't breathe, as Finn's right arm started to rise in the air, that's when she noticed that he wasn't standing. His feet were inches off the ground. When she screamed that was when he fell.
I just took my wife into my arms. Holding her there, confused as all hell. Hoping this one moment could last forever before we would have to find out what was wrong with our boy, by her words he had to be paralyzed with a broken back. I then ushered her into the car, running back inside and grabbing our baby girl. Before we were off to the hospital.
So, now it's time to talk about my brother Kevin. I think it's time that I bring up Kevin. Kevin was my younger brother, he was only 8 years old when he got sick. At first, it came off as the flu, he was bedridden and only missed a few days of school. I remember it like it was yesterday because frankly, it was all so odd. Kevin got home late the day before his sickness. He was always a sprite and fun kid, always looking for an adventure even at a young age. I always took him places too, because he could keep up with 13-year-old me on any bike ride. He had this gummy smile and an infatuation with Superman.
We weren't rich or anything growing up, so my mom had bought him a cheap cape from a hand-me-down store. For the next year, he always wore that cape, while he was biking down to his friend Anthony's house, I remember it always flailing in the wind as if he were flying in the air.
After he got sick, I don't remember him putting it on ever again. He came home that day. From what I remember my mother telling me, rest her soul, that he walked into the house for the first time in complete silence. He got ready for bed without eating anything, and that was it. In that bed, he stayed for days. I would always knock to see if he wanted to do anything and he would refuse. During those days, I started to feel off. I woke up one night in complete sweat, confu...
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