Brothers who communicate only with one another in a language only they understand (cryptophasia) behave in increasingly erratic ways.
In: 5000 Writing Prompts by Bryn Donovan
Most people can only dream of meeting the love of their life. But I did. Or at least I thought for the past years. Now I’m not so sure anymore.
Emily had been pregnant when we first met. The father had run off, and she rarely ever spoke of him. It didn’t bother me at all. We connected and got along very well. I loved her, and even though I had my doubts about becoming a parent, I wanted to be the best father I possibly could.
I was so nervous when Emily woke me in the middle of the night. We rushed out to the hospital. It was late afternoon the next day when the twins first saw the light of day. I remember thinking that it would change my life forever.
Having two babies was exhausting, and we struggled to keep up. Especially because Emily’s family had abandoned her. But we did our best. I really believe we were a happy little family. The boys grew up so fast. I still can’t believe how the years flew by.
I remember one time, the boys were 3 years old, my mother had offered to take care of them so we could have a night out in town. We desperately needed some time for ourselves. When we came back, my mother was sitting in the living room, crying. I had never seen her like that.
Through the sobbing, she said something wasn’t right with the boys. Something about them is not right that made her skin crawl. Emily jumped in to protect our sons against her judgment, and I sided with her. The contact with my parents broke ever since, and the last thing my mother said to me was to get away as far as I could.
My sons are fast learners. Everything comes naturally to them. I know every parent says that about their kids. But they usually are far ahead of others their age. One day, I overheard them talk to each other in a made-up language in their room. It sounded like a weird mix of an archaic dialect, filled with guttural growling and hissing. After dinner, I casually mentioned it to Emily. I didn’t think much of it. A lot of kids come up with stuff like that. But looking back now, her overreaction and constant reassurance that everything was normal should have tipped me off.
A few weeks later, Emily told me that her family wanted to reconnect with her and the kids. She seemed to look forward to it. Even the boys were giving her a wide grin at the news. Naturally, I wanted to support her as best as I could. But things went downhill from there.
The boys grew distant towards me. Their room is locked all the time, and they don’t talk to me anymore. I hear them behind my back, speaking in their primal language. Weird symbols have been appearing around the house, carved into the wood. Yesterday, I caught them scratching off my face in all the family pictures. They have been in their room since. At night, a low humming like a chant emanates from their bedroom.
I wanted to accept my kids for who they are. But I just feel that something is terribly wrong with them. I don’t understand what is going on, but I can’t go on like this. Maybe my mother had been right all along. I need to get away.
Tonight is the planned reunion with Emily’s family. I cannot bring it over me to leave her before that. I never thought I’d say this, but tomorrow I will leave them for good.
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