I CAUGHT MY PREGNANT WIFE DRINK BLOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
– Episode 1
At two-fifteen in the morning, I was awakened by a soft clanking sound from the kitchen.
At first, I thought it was just the wind, or maybe a rat hitting a can.
But when I noticed that Ada—my wife—was not next to me, I sat up suddenly. The entire room was silent… too silent.
I called out softly, “Ada?”
No answer.
I heard the sound again—clink, clink, followed by a gentle slurping, as if someone was drinking a thick liquid.
I was terrified.
Ada was eight months pregnant, but in recent weeks, she had been acting strangely.
She had barely eaten, complaining that all food “smelled like iron.”
She also often woke up sweating profusely, her lips trembling, and mumbling words I couldn’t understand.
I slowly got up and walked towards the kitchen, my heart pounding.
The light was dim and flickering, like a candle about to die out.
When I was near the door—I stopped.
There she was.
My wife Ada—my gentle, loving wife—kneeling on the floor next to the sink, her white dress stained with red.
In her hand was a small metal bowl, filled with red liquid.
She slowly brought it to her lips… and drank.
Slowly. Eagerly. Like a thirsty animal.
“Ada!” I shouted, my voice trembling.
She suddenly turned. She dropped the bowl, it shattered and red splashed onto the tiles.
Her eyes sparkled in the dim light, and for a moment my breath stopped.
Blood trickled from her lip, down her chin, and her hand trembled.
“Tunde…” she said softly. “You shouldn’t have seen this.”
I trembled with fear. “What are you drinking? Is that blood?”
She burst into tears. “I don’t want you to know. But I can’t help it. The baby… he wants this.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
She held her stomach, wincing in pain. “Every time he moves inside me, it feels like he’s burning me. The only thing that calms him down is this.”
She pointed to the broken bowl. “I don’t want to do this, Tunde… but when I don’t, he screams inside me.”
I couldn’t explain what I felt—a mixture of fear and disgust.
I approached him, trying to grab the bowl, but when our hands touched—his skin was so hot, it felt like it was on fire.
He screamed and suddenly collapsed, his whole body shaking.
I panicked, grabbing my cell phone to call the doctor, but before I could explain, she stopped shaking.
She slowly looked at me, and smiled—a strange, peaceful smile.
“Don’t call,” she whispered. “She’s full.”
With that, she closed her eyes and lost consciousness.
I lifted her back onto the bed, my hands shaking, there was blood on my palms—I didn’t know if it was hers or someone else’s.
And when I laid her down, it was only then that I noticed something that made my blood run cold—there were bites on her wrists.
Deep. Red. Fresh.
It was as if another creature was sucking her blood too.
Before I could turn off the light, I heard it.
From her stomach.
A faint, hair-raising sound.
Like… laughter.
Episode 2 – The Secret Inside Her Stomach
When I woke up the next morning, Ada was no longer in bed.
The pillow she had used was still wet with sweat, and there was a stain of dried blood on the sheet.
When I suddenly remembered what had happened last night, I jumped up and ran to the kitchen.
The broken bowl was gone.
The floor was clean—too clean.
As if nothing had happened.
I called her, “Ada! Where are you?”
Silence.
Until I heard the sound of the shower from the bathroom.
I approached.
The sound of the water seemed to be deliberately hiding other sounds inside.
I opened the door slightly—and there, I almost screamed.
Ada was standing under the running water,
naked, and her stomach was moving.
Not just the movements of a baby.
It was like there was… something else crawling inside.
He tried to caress it, crying.
“Does it hurt, Ada?” I asked, trembling.
She turned to me—pale, trembling,
but her eyes, as if they were no longer hers.
“Tunde…” she said softly. “She said she’s hungry again.”
“Who’s ‘she’?” I asked.
She touched her stomach. “Our child. But she’s not what you expected.”
I swallowed. “We need to go to the hospital.”
She shook her head. “I tried. They can’t see her on the ultrasound.
She doesn’t have a heartbeat, but she’s moving.”
“That’s impossible,” I whispered.
She smiled coldly. “She’s not human, Tunde.”
She took my hand and placed it on her stomach.
It was warm. It was throbbing.
But it was different—not a heartbeat.
Like the flapping of wings.
I stepped back, my eyes widening.
“Ada, what did you do?”
She cried. “I didn’t want it!
One night, while you were sleeping, someone knocked on the window.
A woman—white, faceless.
She handed me the bottle… and said, ‘Drink it, so your child will live.’
I thought it was medicine—but when I drank it, everything changed.”
Suddenly she screamed. She held her stomach.
Blood spurted from her mouth.
I ran to help her, but she pushed me away with strange force.
“RUN, TUNDE!” she shouted. “WHEN HE COMES OUT, I CAN’T STOP YOU!”
Everything stopped at that moment.
Silence.
Then—a loud blow from inside her stomach.
It was like someone was knocking… from inside.
“Ada…” I whispered, trembling.
She stared at me—with a smile, with tears.
“And then forgive me, Tunde,” he said.
“But he also wants to meet you.”
Suddenly the light went out.
The whole house went dark.
And in the darkness, I heard a voice—faint, but clear:
“Papa…”
Episode 3 – The Birth of a Creature
The whole house was dark.
The only light came from the lightning that occasionally flashed outside,
shining on the face of my wife Ada—kneeling on the floor,
her stomach moving as if something wanted to break free.
“Papa…”
That voice, coming from her own stomach.
Not a baby’s voice.
Deep, cold, and as if coming from underground.
“Ada… we have to escape,” I said, trembling.
But she didn’t move.
Her eyes were fixed on the floor,
her hands clutching her stomach,
as blood flowed down between her thighs.
“I can’t stop her,” she cried.
“I’m trying to fight it, but she wants to come out now…”
I ran to the phone, but there was no dial tone.
Even the light was off.
When I opened the door to the outside, the air was heavy—
as if something was blocking it.
It was as if someone was standing unseen outside the house.
When I turned to Ada, she was already standing.
But she wasn’t walking anymore—
as if some force was pulling her from within.
Her stomach was moving, undulating,
until something protruded from it—
a hand, but not a human hand.
The fingers were long, the nails were sharp, and the skin was gray.
I backed away, screaming,
but Ada smiled, tears in her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid, Tunde. This is our child…”
Suddenly the glass in the window cracked.
A cold wind came in and with each strike of lightning,
I could see blood on the floor,
and the shadow slowly crawling out of her womb.
Ada’s scream was no longer a human sound.
A laugh mixed with crying,
as blood spurted around.
“It hurts, Tunde! Help me!”
When I approached her, everything suddenly stopped.
Silence.
She was bent over, trembling,
and from under her skirt came out… a small creature.
Ang balat nito’y parang sinunog, kulay abo’t pula.
May mga mata na parang dugo,
at bibig na puno ng matatalas na ngipin.
Ngunit nang titigan ko ito nang mabuti—
nakita ko ang mukha ko.
“Ako…” bulong ko, hindi makapaniwala.
Ngumiti ito, mabagal, at sinabi:
“Salamat sa dugo mo, Papa.”
Biglang nagdilim ang lahat.
Nang magmulat ako, ako’y nasa ospital.
Nakaupo sa tabi ng kama ko ang isang doktor,
habang tinitingnan niya ang mga sugat sa braso ko—mga kagat, malalim.
“Nasaan si Ada?” tanong ko.
Tumingin siya sa akin, nag-aalangan.
“Sir… wala kaming pasyenteng buntis dito kagabi.
Nakita ka ng mga kapitbahay mong duguan sa daan, mag-isa.
Wala kang kasama.”
Nang marinig ko iyon, tumayo ako bigla.
“Hindi! Nandiyan siya! Nanganak siya—may lumabas sa kanya!”
Ngunit bago pa ako makapagsalita ulit,
may umiyak mula sa sulok ng silid—mahina, tila iyak ng sanggol.
Lumingon ako.
Walang tao roon…
maliban sa isang maliit na mangkok na metal na puno ng pulang likido,
nakapatong sa upuan.
At sa ibabaw nito, nakaukit ang isang salita—
“BUSOG NA SIYA.”
Episode 4 – Ang Bata sa Dilim
Tatlong araw akong nanatili sa ospital.
Araw-araw, sinasabi ng mga nurse na wala raw si Ada—na baka raw ako’y nabigla lang o nasiraan ng isip dahil sa trauma.
Pero alam kong hindi guni-guni ang nakita ko.
Alam kong totoo si Ada.
At totoo rin ang nilalang na lumabas mula sa kanya.
Noong ikatlong gabi, habang tulog ang mga pasyente, nagising ako sa malamig na simoy ng hangin.
Ang bintana sa tabi ng kama ko ay bahagyang nakabukas.
Lumapit ako para isara ito—
pero bago ko pa mailapat ang mga kamay ko sa salamin,
may maliit na bakas ng kamay sa labas.
Maliit, parang kamay ng bata.
Ngunit ang hugis ng mga daliri—mahahaba, matutulis.
Nang tingnan ko nang mas mabuti, gumalaw iyon.
Kasunod ang mahina ngunit malinaw na tinig:
“Papa…”
Napatras ako, napasigaw.
Pumasok ang nurse, nagtaka.
“SIR, ANO ‘YON?”
“May bata sa labas!” sigaw ko.
Ngunit nang tumingin kami pareho—wala na.
Tanging ang bakas ng kamay na unti-unting naglalaho sa salamin.
Pagkalipas ng ilang oras, pinauwi na ako.
Ngunit pagdating ko sa bahay, parang may nagbago.
Malamig. Tahimik.
Parang may nanonood sa bawat hakbang ko.
Pagsapit ng gabi, pinilit kong matulog.
Ngunit mga alas-dos ng umaga, may narinig akong tunog ng paghakbang sa sala—maliit, mabagal, parang yapak ng bata.
Kumalabog ang puso ko.
Kinuha ko ang flashlight at dahan-dahang bumaba sa hagdan.
Nang sindihan ko ang ilaw, wala naman akong nakita.
Hanggang sa mapansin ko ang isang bagay sa ilalim ng mesa:
isang maliit na mangkok na metal.
Puno ng pulang likido.
Parehong-pareho sa ginamit ni Ada.
Biglang may tumawa.
Isang mahinang tawa, parang galing sa bata pero may halong kalumaan.
Lumapit ako, nanginginig.
Ang hangin ay parang huminto.
At mula sa dilim sa sulok ng bahay—may lumabas.
Isang bata.
Hubad. Maputla.
Ang mga mata’y kulay pula, at sa kanyang bibig ay may bakas ng dugo.
Ngumiti siya sa akin, mabagal, parang pamilyar.
“Papa,” sabi niya.
“Hindi mo ako dapat iniwan sa dilim.”
“Anong gusto mo sa’kin?” tanong ko, nanginginig.
“Gusto ko lang makasama ka.
Sabi ni Mama, ikaw daw ang magpapakain sa akin ngayon.”
Bago ko pa maunawaan ang ibig niyang sabihin, tumingin siya sa likod ko.
Dahan-dahan kong nilingon.
At doon ko nakita—si Ada.
Nakatayo sa dilim, basang-basa, ang tiyan ay may malaking sugat, parang binuksan.
Ngumiti siya, maputla, halos walang tinig.
“Magkasama na tayo ulit, Tunde…”
Paglapit nila, tumakbo ako papunta sa pinto—
ngunit hindi ko mabuksan.
Parang sinelyuhan mula sa labas.
Habang papalapit sila, naramdaman kong unti-unting humihina ang katawan ko,
at ang ilaw ng flashlight ko’y kumikindat-kindat.
The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness:
the child, sitting on my chest,
while handing the bowl of blood to Ada.
And between their laughter,
a voice whispered in my ear:
“We’ve had enough, Papa.”
Episode 5 – The House That’s No Longer Silent
When I opened my eyes, I was home.
But this wasn’t the house I left last night.
The walls were the same, the floor, the door—
but everything seemed older, dirtier, and smelled of rust and blood.
I stood up, my head spinning.
The air was heavy, as if there was dust that wasn’t just dust.
When I noticed the photos on the wall—
I stopped.
They were all pictures of the three of us: me, Ada, and… the child.
He was looking at the camera, smiling.
But his eyes—red, and with each shot, he was getting closer and closer to the lens.
I don’t remember when it was taken.
I don’t remember having photos like this in the house.
And on the back of each frame, there was a small line written:
“Always full when there’s blood.”
Suddenly there was a sound upstairs—it was like someone was moving in the room.
I picked up the baseball bat that was by the door and slowly climbed up.
As I climbed, each step seemed to sink into the wood,
as if the house was breathing.
At the end of the stairs, the door to our old room was slightly open.
There was a dim light from inside.
There was Ada.
Facing the closet, as if she was talking to someone.
She didn’t notice I was there.
“Ada…” I called, weakly.
She slowly turned around.
But the face I used to love, now I could barely recognize.
Her lips were pale, dry, and veins were flashing under her skin.
“We’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” he said, his voice cold.
“Didn’t you miss your son?”
“Where is he?” I asked, trembling.
He smiled, slowly.
He pointed to the closet.
“Here. He’s still asleep. But he’s hungry again.”
I approached, trembling, and opened the closet door.
It was dark inside.
At first, I thought it was empty—until I saw two eyes flashing.
Red.
And the hands slowly reaching out, dirty, long, covered in blood.
“Dad…” he whispered. “I’m awake.”
I backed away, hitting the closet with the bat,
but each blow felt like it hit flesh, not wood.
A laugh filled the room.
The light flickered,
the air grew cold,
and Ada suddenly stepped closer,
her eyes blazing beneath the darkness.
“You can’t leave her again, Tunde,” she said.
“You don’t know how hungry she was when you left.”
“Left?” I asked, trembling. “When—when did I leave?”
She smiled.
“Three years ago.
You’re dead, Tunde. But you came back… because we called you.”
Before I could answer, the closet suddenly opened.
A hand touched my neck, cold, sticky.
And in the darkness, from inside the closet, the child emerged—
but now, he was no longer a child.
Taller, thinner,
his skin like the skin of a snake that had been gutted.
She smiled.
“Welcome home, Papa.”
The next day, the neighbors found our house with all the doors closed.
No one was living there.
But at night, they said they could hear a woman’s laughter,
and the sound of a child running across the floor.
And sometimes, when they looked out the window,
there would be three shadows standing in the living room—
a man, a woman, and a child with eyes that were flashing red.
Episode 6 – The Blood Returns
I had no memory of how I got there.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the floor of our old house—
but something was different.
The walls were covered in carvings that I didn’t understand.
Symbols.
Eyes.
Names.
And in the middle of it all—my name: TUNDE ADELEKE, written in blood.
I got up, gasping for breath, my head aching.
On the floor, there were dried drops of blood that seemed to be heading towards our son’s room.
I slowly followed it.
Every step was accompanied by whispers — voices of people I didn’t know, but it felt like I had been hearing them for a long time.
When I got to the room, the closet was open.
It was empty — except for an old box.
I opened it.
Inside, there was an old notebook, a dried rose, and a piece of paper that was almost worn out with age.
Written in Ada’s hand:
“If you can read this, it means you’ve come back.
You shouldn’t come back, Tunde.
You don’t need to know what he is…
but because I love you, I will tell you the truth.”
My hands trembled as I read each line.
“When I first felt him move in my womb, I knew something was wrong.
He didn’t come from us.
Every night, a woman visits my dreams — white, faceless,
and says that the child will keep the blood of your race alive.
‘The blood of the Adeleke people must not die,’ she says.
But in return — me.”
I held my chest.
That’s when I noticed it — there was a stitch in the middle of my chest, a long, dry wound.
It felt like… I was opened.
It felt like something had been removed — or put back.
Suddenly I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned around, and there was Ada — wearing the same bloody dress.
But now, she was calmer.
More real.
Or more ghostly.
“Tunde,” she said, calmly.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Tell me the truth,” I shouted. “What’s wrong with the child? Why am I still here?”
She smiled, bitterly.
“Because you yourself are the reason he came to life.”
I stared. “Me?”
“The curse on your family has been around for a long time,” she explained.
“Back in the days of your ancestor Oba Adeleke — an herbalist who refused to bring a woman’s child back to life.
He was cursed: ‘Your lineage will never die completely.
Every blood will return — but there is a price to pay.’”
He approached, slowly.
“Our child… he is no ordinary child.
He is the body of all the souls of the Adeleke whose lives have not ended.
And you, Tunde — you are the last blood.
So even though you are dead… come back.
To feed him.”
I shivered. “No… impossible…”
But before I could finish, I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Slow. Heavy.
I turned around — the child.
He was older now, like eight years old.
His eyes were flashing red,
and with each step he took, he left a trail of blood on the floor.
“Papa,” he said.
“You know now, right?
I’m not bad.
I’m the only one our family needs to survive.”
I looked at Ada, she was crying.
“Forgive me, Tunde.
I didn’t know this would happen.
But if I hadn’t brought her back to life… you would have died by now.”
I stepped back, confused, gasping for breath.
“What do you mean—I was dead by now?”
She nodded, weakly.
“You had an accident. You’ve been dead for three years, Tunde.
I used her blood to bring you back.”
My eyes widened.
I looked at the child.
She smiled, coldly, and held out her hand.
“Papa,” she said, “it’s time for you to give us your blood.”
Episode 7 – The End of the Last Blood
The cold wind felt like it was cutting into my skin.
I stood in the middle of the living room, facing my child,
and Ada — the wife I loved and sacrificed everything for me.
“Papa,” the child said,
“we have waited for you for a long time.
Can’t you hear the call of blood?”
With each word he said,
I could feel the wind swirling,
the shadows moving around.
It was as if the house itself was breathing,
and every breath it took smelled of iron and blood.
Ada grabbed my shoulder.
“Tunde… this is the end of the curse.
But you have to choose.”
I looked at him,
my eyes filled with tears and fear.
“What do I have to do?”
“There are two ways,” he replied.
“If you give your blood, he will live —
and the Adeleke line will continue,
but you will be slaves to the curse for the rest of your life.”
“If you refuse,”
his voice changed,
“he will die,
and I will be gone too.
But the curse… will be over for good.”
Everything was silent.
Nothing could be heard but the soft dripping of blood from the ceiling.
I looked at the child — my son,
with eyes red but filled with sadness.
“Papa…”
He reached out to me.
“I didn’t choose to be like this.
I just wanted to be with you.”
Those words were like a knife in my chest.
I didn’t know if he was a demon or an innocent soul.
But for the first time,
I saw in him — not a monster, but a son.
I approached, kneeling before him.
I held his cold hand.
“I am the reason you are here,” I said.
“If anyone has to pay, it will be me.”
“No!” Ada shouted.
“If you do that, you’ll be gone too!”
I smiled at her, bitterly.
“I’ve been gone for a long time, Ada.
This mistake, it needs to end.”
I took the bowl of blood from the altar in the center of the living room.
It was heavy, gleaming in the candlelight.
I lifted it, and cut my palm with the old knife beside it.
My blood flowed into the bowl,
and in that moment, the carvings on the wall lit up —
the ancient symbols of our race.
The child screamed,
but not in pain —
in fear.
“Papa, that’s enough! I don’t want this!”
Ada came closer, crying,
“Stop, Tunde! That’s enough!”
But I couldn’t back down.
As the blood continued to flow,
the surroundings gradually brightened —
and the shadows on the wall began to fade.
Ada hugged me tightly.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“No one needs to suffer anymore.”
And as the last drop of my blood fell into the bowl,
the light exploded.
Everything stopped.
Silence.
When I opened my eyes,
the child was gone.
Ada was gone.
No blood, no bowl, no house.
Just me.
Standing in the middle of an old cemetery.
In front of me, a tombstone:
TUNDE ADELEKE (1991–2021)
“The blood returns to its source.”
And at that moment,
a faint but clear voice whispered into the air:
“Thank you, Papa.”
Since then, it is said that every night of the full moon,
a man stands at the edge of the cemetery —
just staring into the air,
as if waiting for someone to return.
And sometimes,
when the air is cold,
you can hear a child’s laughter in the darkness.