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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/jacktheratbastard on 2024-10-16 21:58:08+00:00.

I want to tell you about the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. The thing that has haunted me for almost 20 years, and which has completely and irreparably ruined my relationship with my older brother Marcus. If he finds this post, he’ll probably break his decade long silence to scream at me about it all, but I don’t care. This isn’t just his story, it’s mine too.

It was a hot summer during the mid-2000s, and me, my mom and Marcus lived in a nondescript midwestern town. I had just turned seven, and spent most of my days bugging Marcus, trying to get him to play with me. Marcus was 17 and had absolutely no interest in spending time with his little brother. He spent most of his days locked in his room, trying to ignore my incessant whining and pleading.

Mom was a schoolteacher, and therefore had her summer break too. The job really didn’t pay well, and we were only kept afloat by Marcus’s dad occasionally paying child support. My dad hadn’t spoken a word to my mom since they parted ways after a one-night stand, and to this day I don’t know if he’s even alive.

Due to mom’s meager income the house we lived in wasn’t … great. Don’t get me wrong, it seemed huge to me as a child, and it was better than the dingy apartment we had lived in just a few years earlier. But there was a reason why the rent was so cheap. The details of my childhood home kind of blur together, but I can remember water damage, mold, drafty rooms and lousy heating. I’ve tried to ask Marcus for details a few times, but he’s refused to help me out. I’m not surprised.

It was during that hot summer, when the days were sweltering and the heat never seemed to really leave even during the night, that the scratching started.

At first it wasn’t much. An ever so gentle almost tap-like scratch on the east wall, in mom’s room. My room was next to hers and sometimes the scratching would move over there, to right above my bed. It didn’t scare me, as a seven-year-old child it was almost a little comforting in the dead of night. But mom of course didn’t like it. She figured it was either rats or mice living there, which was bad, or some other critter that had gotten stuck, which was worse. We didn’t have enough money for an exterminator, so mom prayed it was the first option and put out some traps.

We waited for a while. Nothing even touched the traps. Mom swore every time she checked them and nothing came up. A week or so passed and still nothing. The scratching stopped, rather abruptly, and we all hoped it was over.

But soon enough the smell came. A weak smell that just barely lingered in mom’s room at first, but that slowly grew in intensity. It never got too strong, and was mostly centered in mom’s room, but it was unpleasant nonetheless. Mom swore even more, and Marcus left his room even less.

I assume mom wanted us out of the house while she got rid of whatever had died in the wall. That’s why she sent us to Aunt Monica over-night. Aunt Monica was nice enough, a bit awkward with children but kind-hearted and sweet. She bought us McDonalds for dinner and let me and my brother stay up late watching movies.

We went back late the next afternoon, and came home to an empty house. The door was unlocked, but mom was nowhere to be found. I got worried but Marcus calmed me down. She was probably out shopping or running errands or something.

That night, the scratching returned. It was still soft, and it lulled me to sleep.

Mom wasn’t back the next day. Marcus just shrugged and said “well, when is she ever home?”.

The scratching was a little louder that night. Still quiet and cozy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about mom. Truth be told, she did leave us alone overnight, or sometimes for a few days. Marcus was old enough to care for me so that wasn’t really a concern. But still, I worried about her.

I think it was during day two or three that we could hear the scratching during the day. It was like an odd mix of scratching and the occasional tapping, and it moved between mom’s room, my room and the living room.

“Goddamn mice” Marcus cursed and gave the wall a hard kick. The weak wall gave a crunch and a small indent formed. The scratching stopped momentarily, before continuing more to the left. Marcus swore and made me promise not to tell mom he broke the wall.

That night, the scratching stopped being comforting. It was louder, harder and more … intense somehow. I tried to convince Marcus to let me sleep in his room but he slammed the door in my face.

I woke up the next day to a foul smell wafting into my room. It was like the smell from earlier had gotten stronger and more potent. I went into the kitchen to see Marcus trying to call someone, who clearly wasn’t picking up. He looked strange to my seven-year-old self, he looked almost scared. When I walked in his face hardened and he tried to put on a brave face, but I’d seen him. And it worried me more than anything else.

The next couple of days were hellish, and it only got worse and worse. The heat was cooking us alive. That incessant scratching and scraping wouldn’t stop, and you could hear it everywhere. At night it almost sounded like someone was banging on my bedroom wall, and when Marcus came rushing in after he heard my crying he relented and let me sleep in his bed. The stench also got stronger. It was a horrid, rotten stench that permeated the whole house, seemingly coming from the hole in the wall. It got so bad I couldn’t walk past without gagging, and I saw Marcus dry-heave after covering the hole with duct tape. That did help a little with the smell.

A week had passed and mom was still gone. The scraping and scratching could be heard at all hours and the stench was almost too much to handle. The house had no AC and I was wet with sweat in the early noon. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, trying to watch some TV to distract from the sounds. I occasionally glanced at the taped up hole, thinking about if mom would be angry about it when she got back.

That’s when I saw it.

Movement.

Under the tape.

I froze. It couldn’t be. No, I must’ve imagined it. Obviously. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Again. I felt my stomach clench. Something definitely shifted under the thin layer of tape.

I gasped when I saw something small push itself under the tape and wriggle downwards. Something pale and shiny peaked out from under the edge of the tape, before falling to the floor and laying there writhing.

More movement. More small shapes under the tape. I screamed.

Marcus came rushing in, wielding a crowbar. He stared at me in confusion, probably expecting some sort of monstrosity to be attacking me. I pointed at the hole in horror. He looked, and let out a choked sound. Maybe five or six small white worms lay wriggling on the floor, and more were forcing themselves out from under the tape.

Something flashed in my brother’s eyes. A mix of horror, disgust and pure rage. He stomped over to the wall, crushing the maggots under his shoes. The scratching had grown in intensity, it sounded like something was trying to tear down the wall.

“Fuck you you goddamn son of a bitch!” Marcus yelled and swung the crowbar right into the wall. It wasn’t hard enough, but it made a small hole and the house screamed. He swung again, harder, burying it deep, and tore it out. Pieces of wall, debris and dust rained over him. He swung again, tearing out more wall. A loud rumble shook the house, stopping him dead in his tracks. All was silent, and Marcus began slowly backing up.

A buzzing black mass spewed out of the wall. What seemed to be hundreds, thousands of flies flowed almost like a wave out of the hole, causing Marcus and I to drop to the floor to avoid the flood of buzzing, screaming insects. They moved like one singular organism, flying around the room whilst more and more spewed out of the hole with such force it tore the wall apart, making the hole wider. I was crying, I think Marcus was too. We lay there, huddled together as the assault continued.

At some point, the buzzing quieted. It didn’t stop, but it settled down a bit. I dared a peak at the scenery. Every single fly had settled on the ceiling, forming a thick black carpet above us. But what drew my attention was the wall.

The hole in the wall was now almost as big as I was, and the smell that wafted out was unbearable. My eyes teared up and I had to swallow down bile as my nostrils were assaulted by the foulest, most horrific stench I had ever experience. Besides the low buzzing above us all was quiet, and that scared me more than the scratching.

I knew there was something in the wall. The flies hadn’t been the ones scratching and tapping. Marcus knew this too. He got to his feet, and slowly approached the wall.

No, I wanted to scream at him, leave it alone. Don’t disturb it. I couldn’t make a sound though, more scared of disturbing the ominous quiet.

Marcus was almost at the wall when a creak from inside made him stop. A creaking of wood, or joints, or something else entirely. It quieted down again, and he almost started getting closer when something large and dark tumbled out of the hole and landed with a grotesque crack.

It took me a moment to comprehend the swollen, discolored shape covered in wriggling white shapes but when I understood, I screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed until something tore and all I got out were gasping sobs. Marcus had fallen to his knees, vomiting and staring wide-ey…

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