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The soft spot on my brothers head was more than it seemed.
When my little brother was born, I was nine. My mom had recently remarried after the lengthy but quiet divorce she had been dealing with. My father hadn’t been around much since I could remember and as far as I was concerned, the four of us were the only family that mattered.
My baby brother, lovingly named Amir was the cutest little thing, and at family gatherings my many cousins and aunts flocked around him. Even as an attention craving little girl I couldn’t help but get sucked into his little smile, his large curious brown eyes that screamed ‘look at me! aren’t I the cutest baby you ever saw?’.
One sleepless summer night, I tip-toed to his room making sure not to step on the spots in the floor I knew would creak. His door was slightly ajar just enough to see the moonlight streaming in through the curtains and illuminating his tiny figure. He was sound asleep, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady.
Deciding I wanted him with me, I picked him up out of his crib and speed walked as fast as I could back without alerting my mom to the baby snatching. He shifted slightly and I paused before sliding into my bed, laying him gently next to me. Amir’s eyes darted behind his eyelid and the soft spot on his head rose and fell in tune with his breathing.
Just as I was about to drift off myself I noticed the bump shift in a way that seemed…off. Something seemed to writhe just under the surface for a brief second. My half-lidded eyes widened again and I sat up a bit, focusing intently. As if caught, the movement paused and returned back to the usual rhythm. I watched for a moment more and laid back down, finally sleeping.
If I had recognized it then, maybe things would be different.
When I was 14, Amir had grown into a hazard. He seemed to always be bruised from his newest adventure and as much as I tried to shut him out of my room he’d weasel his way in somehow with sticky fingers and wild, untamed curls. That soft spot had never fully hardened due to what doctors called delayed bone ossification. Long story short, that area just never hardened into bone. He still lived normally, so it was placed on the back burner.
Of course, my mom still exercised caution. On the way out one night she made me promise to keep him from doing anything stupid, and to stay where I can see him. When she left I turned on Teletubbies for Amir in the living room, threw down some paper and crayons and retreated to my room.
It wasn’t long before I heard a large crash and ran out to see pots and pans scattered around. My brother looked down at what he’d done and looked back up at me, searching for a suitable explanation. ‘Save it’, I said, putting one hand up and beginning to stack the pots back with the other. When that was done I again retreated to my room, and not before a stern warning to sit back down.
After about an hour of messing around I again heard a large thud. This time it wasn’t just pots. I begrudgingly stepped out of my room and made my way back downstairs hoping the mess wouldn’t be too large. It was not a mess.
Amir lay seizing violently on the living room floor. A guttural sound wracked through his little body, then intense shrieking. I ran to him, my hands picking his head up off the floor. His whole body shook like a leaf. Against my wishes I put him down and sprinted to my room to grab my cell phone, calling the police while running back to my brother. My heart pounded in chest, and in the chaos I barely noticed the soft spot on his head trembling and splitting until blood oozed from it, then something else.
Something was prodding at the surface of the bump, looking for the opening. I screamed, clutching my brother tighter to me. His body shook even harder, as if trying to expel it itself. A lump, looking akin to discarded meat split through skin and slithered out, barely an inch long. It didn’t break through skull, it passed through a space that was its own, a home made in my baby brother’s head.
In a moment of horror I dropped my brothers body and scrambled back, screaming with a terror that ripped through my throat as the creature continued its own birth. It slid down my brother’s face, who was now unconscious, and fell to the floor. It was there that it opened, down the middle and turned inside out to reveal a pair of insect like legs that unfurled outwards like a butterfly from a cocoon.
That’s when I blacked out.
I awoke in a hospital bed, attached to an iv bag that fed liquid into my arm. The quiet was peaceful, just the cool drip of saline and my own breath. That’s when my memories of what happened that night ripped through me again, and I sat up quickly. My mom, who was sitting beside me the entire time got up and ran over. I pulled her into a tight hug and instantly broke down in her arms.
‘It’s okay! It’s okay!’ She repeated, running her hands over my back in an effort to calm me down.
“Is Amir okay? Where is he?!’ I asked through tears.
“He’s in another room. He’ll be okay.” My mom replied, her voice riddled with badly hidden fear and worry.
I took a deep breath and let go of her, my mind replaying the events of that night.
“When they found you, you were both passed out on the floor. I got here as fast as I could. What happened??” She asked, gripping me.
“I don’t know I just.. something came out through him, where is it? It was in his head, in that one spot. It wasn’t his bones, it was that thing.” My voice shook as I finally tried to explain what I saw.
My mom’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, Amir had a seizure. A lot happened in one night. Just.. get some rest okay?” She said, kissing me on the forehead and leaving me alone to check on my brother.
The next few days were spent explaining how a creature passed through my brother’s head, my pleas falling on deaf ears. Amir himself had no recollection of the events besides his tv show and then the hospital. His head split was chalked up to an injury when he fell. I know that wasn’t the case, but it’s my story against logic and everything anyone would believe.
I don’t know what I’m hoping for by putting my story here. It’s been years, and Amir, although being hospitalized for a time bounced back rather quickly with nothing but a few stitches. Every time I see that scar I think about that thing that made its home in him, and what it may have grown into.
#entertainment
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When my little brother was born, I was nine. My mom had recently remarried after the lengthy but quiet divorce she had been dealing with. My father hadn’t been around much since I could remember and as far as I was concerned, the four of us were the only family that mattered.
My baby brother, lovingly named Amir was the cutest little thing, and at family gatherings my many cousins and aunts flocked around him. Even as an attention craving little girl I couldn’t help but get sucked into his little smile, his large curious brown eyes that screamed ‘look at me! aren’t I the cutest baby you ever saw?’.
One sleepless summer night, I tip-toed to his room making sure not to step on the spots in the floor I knew would creak. His door was slightly ajar just enough to see the moonlight streaming in through the curtains and illuminating his tiny figure. He was sound asleep, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady.
Deciding I wanted him with me, I picked him up out of his crib and speed walked as fast as I could back without alerting my mom to the baby snatching. He shifted slightly and I paused before sliding into my bed, laying him gently next to me. Amir’s eyes darted behind his eyelid and the soft spot on his head rose and fell in tune with his breathing.
Just as I was about to drift off myself I noticed the bump shift in a way that seemed…off. Something seemed to writhe just under the surface for a brief second. My half-lidded eyes widened again and I sat up a bit, focusing intently. As if caught, the movement paused and returned back to the usual rhythm. I watched for a moment more and laid back down, finally sleeping.
If I had recognized it then, maybe things would be different.
When I was 14, Amir had grown into a hazard. He seemed to always be bruised from his newest adventure and as much as I tried to shut him out of my room he’d weasel his way in somehow with sticky fingers and wild, untamed curls. That soft spot had never fully hardened due to what doctors called delayed bone ossification. Long story short, that area just never hardened into bone. He still lived normally, so it was placed on the back burner.
Of course, my mom still exercised caution. On the way out one night she made me promise to keep him from doing anything stupid, and to stay where I can see him. When she left I turned on Teletubbies for Amir in the living room, threw down some paper and crayons and retreated to my room.
It wasn’t long before I heard a large crash and ran out to see pots and pans scattered around. My brother looked down at what he’d done and looked back up at me, searching for a suitable explanation. ‘Save it’, I said, putting one hand up and beginning to stack the pots back with the other. When that was done I again retreated to my room, and not before a stern warning to sit back down.
After about an hour of messing around I again heard a large thud. This time it wasn’t just pots. I begrudgingly stepped out of my room and made my way back downstairs hoping the mess wouldn’t be too large. It was not a mess.
Amir lay seizing violently on the living room floor. A guttural sound wracked through his little body, then intense shrieking. I ran to him, my hands picking his head up off the floor. His whole body shook like a leaf. Against my wishes I put him down and sprinted to my room to grab my cell phone, calling the police while running back to my brother. My heart pounded in chest, and in the chaos I barely noticed the soft spot on his head trembling and splitting until blood oozed from it, then something else.
Something was prodding at the surface of the bump, looking for the opening. I screamed, clutching my brother tighter to me. His body shook even harder, as if trying to expel it itself. A lump, looking akin to discarded meat split through skin and slithered out, barely an inch long. It didn’t break through skull, it passed through a space that was its own, a home made in my baby brother’s head.
In a moment of horror I dropped my brothers body and scrambled back, screaming with a terror that ripped through my throat as the creature continued its own birth. It slid down my brother’s face, who was now unconscious, and fell to the floor. It was there that it opened, down the middle and turned inside out to reveal a pair of insect like legs that unfurled outwards like a butterfly from a cocoon.
That’s when I blacked out.
I awoke in a hospital bed, attached to an iv bag that fed liquid into my arm. The quiet was peaceful, just the cool drip of saline and my own breath. That’s when my memories of what happened that night ripped through me again, and I sat up quickly. My mom, who was sitting beside me the entire time got up and ran over. I pulled her into a tight hug and instantly broke down in her arms.
‘It’s okay! It’s okay!’ She repeated, running her hands over my back in an effort to calm me down.
“Is Amir okay? Where is he?!’ I asked through tears.
“He’s in another room. He’ll be okay.” My mom replied, her voice riddled with badly hidden fear and worry.
I took a deep breath and let go of her, my mind replaying the events of that night.
“When they found you, you were both passed out on the floor. I got here as fast as I could. What happened??” She asked, gripping me.
“I don’t know I just.. something came out through him, where is it? It was in his head, in that one spot. It wasn’t his bones, it was that thing.” My voice shook as I finally tried to explain what I saw.
My mom’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, Amir had a seizure. A lot happened in one night. Just.. get some rest okay?” She said, kissing me on the forehead and leaving me alone to check on my brother.
The next few days were spent explaining how a creature passed through my brother’s head, my pleas falling on deaf ears. Amir himself had no recollection of the events besides his tv show and then the hospital. His head split was chalked up to an injury when he fell. I know that wasn’t the case, but it’s my story against logic and everything anyone would believe.
I don’t know what I’m hoping for by putting my story here. It’s been years, and Amir, although being hospitalized for a time bounced back rather quickly with nothing but a few stitches. Every time I see that scar I think about that thing that made its home in him, and what it may have grown into.
#entertainment
source
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