My Uncle Ted was the kind of guy everyone liked. He was the life of the party, always cracking jokes and making people laugh, even complete strangers. It didn’t matter where we were—he’d find a way to lighten the mood. I looked up to him a lot. My name’s Ben, by the way. I’m 12, almost 13, and I’m homeschooled. Mom says I learn differently than other kids, though I’m not really sure what that means.
Uncle Ted visited us every day, usually staying for dinner. He wasn’t married, and he didn’t have a girlfriend either, which I found strange because he was so fun to be around. He was never angry, always relaxed and easygoing. I guess I’m a lot like him in that way.
But something happened to Uncle Ted last week, and that’s why I’m writing this. It was a Friday night, and Uncle Ted asked my mom if I could spend the weekend at his house. She agreed, and I quickly packed a bag, excited for a weekend of fun. When we got to his place, I threw my bag in the spare bedroom and headed straight to the kitchen. Uncle Ted always had the best snacks—chips, soda, and ice cream.
We ordered pizza and watched a movie later that night. Uncle Ted finally let me watch a scary movie, which I had been begging to do for a long time. I wanted to see Underworld because I was really into vampires, but Uncle Ted said it wasn’t available. Instead, we watched Sometimes They Come Back, a creepy movie about dead bullies returning to life. It was a great movie, but by the end, I was exhausted. Uncle Ted had already fallen asleep in his chair, looking uncomfortable, so I headed to bed and fell asleep quickly.
Something woke me up in the middle of the night, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and listened. Everything was quiet, but something felt off. As I started to lie back down, I heard a deep, rumbling growl. Uncle Ted didn’t have any pets, so I assumed the sound must have come from outside. I walked to the window and peeked out, but I couldn’t see anything. I told myself I was just hearing things because I was tired and tried to go back to bed. But then I realized I needed to use the bathroom.
I quietly left my room, walking through the kitchen and past the living room. As I reached the hallway, I heard the growl again, only this time it was deeper, more menacing. Fear gripped me, freezing me in place. I pressed my back against the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run to the bathroom, lock the door, and hide, but my legs wouldn’t move. The fear was overwhelming, paralyzing.
I wondered where Uncle Ted was. I wanted to call out to him, but something inside me screamed to stay quiet. I didn’t even hear him snoring, which was strange because Uncle Ted always snored. Maybe he was awake, lying in bed, listening just like I was. Or maybe something had happened to him.
I knew I had to get to the bathroom. I had to move, but every step felt like a struggle. The bathroom wasn’t far, but it felt like miles. As I edged my way down the hallway, I passed the spare room where Uncle Ted kept a lot of boxes. I peeked inside, half-expecting to see something lurking there, but it was quiet, nothing out of place.
Next was Uncle Ted’s bedroom, right beside the bathroom. The door was half-closed, and for some reason, I was terrified of passing it. I felt like something was in there, something I didn’t want to see. But I knew I had to look. I crept closer, my heart racing, and stopped just before the door. Every instinct told me to crawl past the room without looking in, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to see.
What I saw next will haunt me forever.
Uncle Ted was standing at the end of his bed, his back to me, stretching his body in the most unnatural way. His spine was twisted, contorted, bending in ways that seemed impossible. I could see both his stomach and back at the same time, as if his body was folding in on itself. And then I noticed his hair—thick, dark black hair growing rapidly all over his body, like a time-lapse of a werewolf transformation.
I gasped, louder than I realized. Uncle Ted’s head snapped around, and his eyes locked onto mine. His face—God, his face—was covered in that same thick hair, his nose elongated, his eyes blacker than night. He made a low, whimpering sound, and then, in a flash, he slammed the door shut with such force that it made me wet myself. I stood there, paralyzed with fear, unable to process what I had just seen.
I must have passed out because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in bed. My mind raced back to the image of Uncle Ted, his twisted body, the hair, those black eyes. It was terrifying, yes, but also strangely fascinating. How could he do that? What was happening to him?
As I lay there, trying to make sense of it all, I heard Uncle Ted singing. I cautiously got out of bed and peeked into the kitchen. There he was, cooking breakfast, dancing around, and singing like nothing had happened. He noticed me and spun around with a big grin on his face.
“Hey, kiddo! How about some breakfast grub? How’d you sleep? Hope my snoring didn’t keep you awake.”
He acted like everything was normal, like the events of the night before hadn’t happened at all. I was confused, unsure of what to do or say. I sat down at the kitchen table, and we had breakfast. Pancakes, sausage, eggs, and hash browns—my favorite. We talked about random things, just like we always did. Everything seemed so normal, as if last night had been nothing but a bad dream.
The rest of the weekend passed without incident. My fear subsided, replaced by a strange sense of acceptance. Maybe I had imagined it all, or maybe Uncle Ted had some strange explanation for it that he would share with me someday. Either way, I tried to push it out of my mind.
On Sunday, Uncle Ted drove me home. We talked about movies, and I mentioned the one we had watched on Friday. We discussed the ending, and Uncle Ted told me there was a sequel. I suggested we watch it the next time I stayed over, and he agreed. Then, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he said, “Can you keep what happened Friday night between just the two of us?”
I was stunned. I hadn’t expected him to mention it, let alone in such a casual way. I nodded, and he patted my shoulder.
“I knew you’d keep your promise,” he said, “and soon enough, you’ll understand everything.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I figured he would explain when I was older. Well, I’m older now, 13 years older to be exact, but I still don’t understand. Last night, I noticed something odd—extra hair growth in places there shouldn’t be any. Places that remind me of Uncle Ted.
And now, I can’t help but wonder… when will I understand?
