It’s exciting when new neighbors move into the neighborhood. Adults and kids alike look forward to making new friends. When I was seventeen, it was the beginning of spring when a family of three moved in next door. The mother was heavily pregnant, the father worked night-shift and their sixteen year old daughter was terribly shy.
My mother took over a plate of cookies to welcome them, but she returned with a strange look on her face. When I asked her what they were like, she simply replied, “Odd.” This intrigued me, so I pressed her for more. All she would say was that they seemed suspicious, didn’t invite her into the house and didn’t want the cookies. It was only a few weeks later when my mother looked out the window and said, “She must’ve had the baby.”
I looked over her shoulder and saw the mother in the front yard – obviously not pregnant – but we never saw the baby. The daughter was home schooled so it took me a long time to say hello, which happened at her letterbox. I just happened to be in the garden so I went over and introduced myself. She was terribly nervous and shaking.
“So, is it a baby brother or sister?” I asked innocently. She stared at me for a long time, and did not answer. She then turned and went back inside. I realized that she hadn’t told me her name and that she was scared witless. That night, I was woken up by terrible screeching and crying – seemingly from a newborn baby.
The wailing infant was disturbing to say the least
My parents also woke up and after several hours, my father decided to go over to see what was going on. When he returned, his face was ashen. It took him a while to tell us that the father said, “The baby died in childbirth!” We sat at the dining table puzzling over this news, as the cries could still be heard – faintly and eerily. This went on for the next few days, until one night, all three of them packed into the car and drove off.
I was chatting with a friend online about the whole saga later that night and he told me to go and investigate. We argued for ages until he finally talked me into it. Taking my phone with me, I crept out and jumped the fence. Even though I was alone, I felt safer with my friend on the phone with me. Surprisingly, the back door was unlocked.
My heart was beating a hundred miles a second. I turned on the flashlight, then made my way through the house. My skin was crawling as there was an air of unease – maybe even evil – as I went from room to room. Then the crying started up. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up but I had to keep exploring.
It seemed that the crying was coming from the basement. When I found the door – I just had to go in. As soon as I started to walk down the stairs, the wailing got much louder. I trembled in fear, but kept going. Once at the bottom of the stairs, I followed the crying to a large armoire. The noise was even louder now. I nearly fainted when I opened the door and saw a row of specimen jars – filled with many embryos.
My mind raced with questions laced with horror and dread. Some of them were tied up with string! I hadn’t noticed that the crying had stopped and that the basement was deathly quiet, until one of them moved. I screamed as I watched one fetus open its eyes, which seemed to trigger the crying again. I bolted in fear.
My friend had gone offline as I raced back home. I never told anyone (until they moved out a few weeks later.) Ghost stories or not, this was most disturbing!
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