The following was taken from a Reddit post. The user has not updated since.
âIâm still new to Reddit, and I guess this story isnât a good first impression, if there is something like that on this site. But Iâm very much at the end of the rope here, and I figure if anyone can help me, this sub might be a good place to start.
Itâs about my brother Silas. Or at least he brought it into my life, heâs not really the problem. Not anymore, anyway⊠We were never that close growing up. We had a bit of an age gap, and although 5 years doesnât make a big difference when youâre an adult, but as children and especially as teenagers, it was a gigantic difference. Additionally came the fact that he could never really get the hang of school. He didnât really have the drive to study for upcoming exams, or the photographic memory of his little brother. That, coupled with the fact that his friend group was made up of people who started drinking and smoking at 13, meant that his academic advances were halted early. It didnât make it easier when I started going to school and excelled at most subjects, drifting through solely on my good memory.
By the time I went to uni, our parents had kicked Silas out of the house after they noticed some money was missing. Iâm not entirely sure it was him, but I wouldnât put it past him.
Time went by, and I would only hear about him through friends of friends who knew him. It was mostly about him starting jobs, getting fired from said jobs and crashing with friends before they⊠you get the picture. And when he showed up at my door, he had been thrown out by another friend who let him sleep on their couch.
I had done well for myself, I would say, though I obviously have my parents wealth to thank for a lot, too. They were paying my rent for a studio apartment near the uni, and that meant I didnât have to share a flat, which I am thankful for, especially now. I almost didnât recognise my brother when he knocked on my door, just as I was about to get ready for bed. He wore torn up, baggy jeans and a stained brown jacket, that had quite a strong smell. His hair had clearly not been washed in a few days, and the unkempt beard did nothing to hide the tired face beneath. As much as I didnât keep up with him, it was still quite a shock to see him in this state, and I immediately let him inside. He barely got through the door before he broke down and sat down on the floor, hiding his face in his hands. My questions about what had happened to him in that time went unanswered, and I instead opted to making him some tea and preparing a bed for him on the tiny couch that sat opposite of my bed. When he finally calmed down, I handed him the tea and gestured toward the table that had my own tea standing on it.
We sat across from each other and when I once again asked him what had happened, he took a deep breath, clearly composing himself, and started explaining.
Silas had it rough, since my parents threw him out. While his friends, some of which had similar experiences, were perfectly happy to accommodate him for some time, the fact that he never really made an effort to participate in any chores or get a job to help with rent, meant that he was very much testing the patience of his best friends and it wouldnât take long for them to throw him out as well. This became a cycle, as he convinced some other friend to take a chance on him and stayed at their place. He did try to get some jobs, or at least he claimed he was. He worked at a gas station for a while, but was fired when he kept showing up high. He was hired by a Burger King that was close to his friendsâ flat, but was thrown out because he kept being short with his boss. At least I assume thatâs what happened, as Silas simply said his manager was âan absolute dickheadâ. But his real problem, his current problem, started only one night earlier.
One of his very few remaining friends, Clover, had agreed to take Silas in for a few nights, as they needed âsomeone to help themâ with something. This had surprised my brother somewhat, as he hadnât heard from them in quite a while, and they werenât particularly close. But he knew he was running low on options, and itâs not like he didnât like them or anything, so he agreed. That night, once he finished unpacking, by which I suspect he meant simply putting his bag of belongings near Clover’s couch, they sat down and they started explaining that Clover was in trouble. A few days ago, while waiting for the bus on a lonely stretch of road, a homeless man appeared and looked quite distressed. After Clover asked him if something was wrong, the homeless man stepped closer, and they could see that he was covered in blood. Clover obviously took a step back, immediately ready to bolt. The homeless man apologized and stopped approaching, when he explained that his friend had been âtorn apartâ. Not killed, torn apart. When he drunkenly kept explaining, Clover only really understood half of what he was saying, only hearing the words âtold meâ, âstoryâ and âneckâ. But all at once he stopped talking and fell to his knees. Clover rushed closer as the man appeared to choke, putting his hands to his throat. Silas explained that Clover was unable to tell him what they had seen then, because apparently they kept crying when they wanted to describe it. The man had died, is all they could bring themselves to say.
Clover revealed that they needed help to get rid of whatever the homeless man had told them, or that is what Silas assumed. He didnât really understand how he was supposed to do that, but said that he was there for them, and would do what he could. He held them, while Clover sobbed into his arms. They both fell asleep in that position apparently, as the next part takes place in the middle of the night. By this point, Silas was already shaking and stopped drinking his tea, as he kept spilling some and wiping it up.
When they woke up in the middle of the night, Clover got up. Silas assumed they wanted to go to the bathroom. Maybe they were, but they didnât get that far, as they fell to the floor before they could reach the door. Silas rushed over to her and saw that she, too, was choking. He didnât know what to do and didnât own a phone, so he started running around the flat, frantically looking for Clovers, so he could call an ambulance. Once he found it, he ran back to Clover, who had started crawling toward him, and typed 999. Before he could press the number however, he⊠Again, just like with the homeless man and Clover, he couldnât really describe that part very well. Something about eyes? I admit, by this point I was also contemplating calling emergency services, because I had a feeling my brother wasnât really doing well mentally. I hope this doesnât paint me in a bad light, I hope you all wonât think of me as a bad person⊠Anyway, Silas went on to explain that he had run out of the flat, barely having time to grab his belongings. He vaguely knew where I lived, and didnât know who else to reach out to. After ringing up a few other students asking for me, one eventually pointed him toward my building. When he was done, he started sobbing again. I explained, hoping that he could even hear me, that my couch was his for the night and that we would look for a solution tomorrow. I very much just intended to bring him to a psychiatrist, so he could be examined a bit. I had no idea how much of his story was real, if anything, and assumed that most of it was born out of his years of drug-abuse and possibly some mental-health issues. I was proven wrong just a few hours later.
He had already begun to choke when I woke up at around 2am. I tried to put him into a stable position, to free his airways as I had learned in my first aid class, and quickly called 999. As an operator picked up, I saw what Silas had meant earlier. I didnât know how to explain to the operator what I was seeing, so I hung up again. Incredibly stupid at the time, obviously, but I was in such shock, and in hind-sight, I doubt they couldâve helped me. Or Silas, for that matter. Out of his open throat, I could see two bright, white eyes, staring straight at me.
My brother stood up incredibly fast. His hands were still raised to his throat, but it was too dark to see any details. I rushed to the light-switch and turned it on. It wasnât just his throat. I could now see that, out from beneath his fingernails⊠something, was emerging. His hands travelled further up, and the shapes extending from his fingers were, as far as I could tell, another set of fingers. They were pitch-black and looked as though they had no skin, like it was just charred, burned flesh. They started clawing at his mouth, extending his lips. With his mouth being opened and starting to tear at the corners, I could see that it wasnât just eyes coming out from his mouth. It was a face, just as charred as the fingers, and it had the widest grin I had ever seen on anything. Itâs teeth, while shaped like human teeth, were grotesquely huge, even more so because of the lack of lips they could hide behind. My brothers cheeks were starting to split, and I screamed. I ran out of my flat, got into my car and drove off.
I have no idea what happened to my brother, or what that thing is. But from the stories he told me, I gather that it spreads by someone telling the story of how they saw it. Which is why Iâm sorry to all of you, even though I donât know whether this spreads over text as well. As far as I can tell, this might be the only chance I have of getting out of this somehow. I just thought that maybe someone on here might have encountered something like this? I heard some of people living in my building are starting to complain about the smell coming from my flat, and I donât think I have much more time before someone busts down the door to find my brothers dead body. It has already been days, Iâm not sure I can explain the situation to a priest or something in hopes of an exorcism, before that thing kills me for talking about it. I just hope this story reaches enough people fast enough, so that maybe at least one person has any solution?
This was a mistake i can already feel it pushing in my hands
Please help me somebody
I’m sorry I told youâ
Credit: MaggotMonarch
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