Chapter 3: A Child for the Ancestor
From then on, Aunt May was on guard at all times, so great-grandpa never got his chance. Furious, he came looking for me:
He cornered me in the hallway, his breath hot and sour. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he hissed, eyes flashing. I could smell his anger, sharp as vinegar.
“You little brat, mess with me again and I’ll eat you first.”
He bared his teeth, and I shrank back, heart pounding. But I stood my ground, refusing to show fear.
Of course he couldn’t eat me, but no matter how careful you are, you can’t guard against your own family. Aunt May’s daughter-in-law was tricked by great-grandpa and stole the child away.
The house was thick with suspicion, everyone watching everyone else. But late one night, the baby disappeared, and panic swept through the family. I lay awake, listening to the shouts and sobs, a cold sweat prickling my skin.
By the time Aunt May realized, both mother and child were nothing but empty skins, tossed in the woodshed.
The shed stank of rot and fear. I covered my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. The grown-ups wept and cursed, but it was too late.
My youngest uncle fainted on the spot. Aunt May burst into great-grandpa’s room with a knife, waking him from a nap. He sounded annoyed:
He blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. “What’s all this racket?” he grumbled, as if nothing had happened.
“No manners, disturbing my rest.”
He glared at Aunt May, unbothered by the blade in her hand. The rest of the family hovered in the doorway, unsure what to do.
In the crowd, I noticed great-grandpa looked a bit younger, more energetic, the wrinkles on his face not as deep.
His skin was smoother, his eyes brighter. He stood taller, moving with a grace that didn’t belong to a man his age. I felt a chill, realizing he was changing right before our eyes.
Aunt May charged at him, but at the crucial moment, Uncle Earl shoved his own son in the way to take the blow, then turned and roared at Uncle Lester:
The room erupted in chaos. Uncle Earl’s son stumbled, catching the knife’s edge. Blood spattered the floor, and Aunt May screamed.
“Can’t even control your wife—what good are you to Dad?”
He pointed a shaking finger at Uncle Lester, voice trembling with rage. The family splintered, old wounds reopening.
Then he turned to great-grandpa with a flattering smile:
He wiped the sweat from his brow, forcing a grin. “See, Dad? I’ll always protect you.”
“See, Dad? I’m the only one you can count on.”
He bowed his head, desperate for approval. Great-grandpa just smirked, eyes glinting with amusement.













