I CAUGHT MY PREGNANT WIFE DRINKING BLOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

– Episode 1

It was 2:00 a.m. when I woke up to a faint noise coming from the kitchen.
At first I thought it was just wind, or maybe it was a rat crashing into a can.
But when I noticed that Ada—my wife—wasn’t by my side, I sat up suddenly. The whole room was silent… Too quiet.

I called out softly, “What?”
There was no answer.

I heard the sound again—klink, klink, followed by a gentle thrust, as if someone had been drinking a viscous liquid.
I was horrified.

Ada has been eight months pregnant, but in recent weeks, she’s been acting strangely.
He didn’t eat much anymore, complaining that all the food “smelled like iron.”
He also often wakes up sweating, his lips quivering, and he whispers words I can’t understand.

I slowly got up and walked to the kitchen, my heart pounding.
The light was faint and flickering, like a candle about to go out.
As I approached the door—I stopped.

He was there.
My wife, Ada—my meek, loving wife—was kneeling on the floor by the sink, her white dress stained with red.
In his hand was a small metal bowl, filled with red liquid.
He slowly brought it closer to his mouth… and drinking.
Slowly. Eager. He looked like a thirsty animal.

“There!” he shouted, his voice trembling.

Suddenly, he turned around. He let go of the bowl, it broke and red splashed on the tiles.
Her eyes flickered in the dim light, and my breath stopped for a moment.
Blood dripped from his lips, down his chin, and his hand trembled.

“Tunde…” He said softly. “You shouldn’t have seen it.”

I trembled with fear. “What are you drinking? Is that blood?”

She cried. “I don’t want you to know. But I couldn’t stop it anymore. The Baby… He’s the one who wants it.”

My brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, shivering in pain. “Every time he moved inside of me, I felt like I was on fire. The only thing that calms him down is this.”
He pointed to the broken bowl. “I don’t want to do that, Tunde. But when I don’t, he screams inside of me.”

I can’t describe how I felt—a mixture of fear and disgust.
I walked over to him, tried to grab the bowl, but when our hands were glued together—his skin was so hot, it felt like it was on fire.
He screamed and collapsed suddenly, his whole body shaking.

I panicked, grabbed my phone to call the doctor, but before I could explain, he stopped shaking.
He looked at me slowly, and smiled—a strange, peaceful smile.

“Don’t call,” he whispered. “He’s full.”

By the time he was done, he was stunned and unconscious.
I carried him back to bed, my hands trembling, blood on my palm—I didn’t know if it was him or anyone else.

And when I laid him down, it was only then that I noticed something that made my blood colder even more—there were bites on his wrist.
Deep. Red. Sariwa.
It was as if some other creature was sucking his blood as well.

Before I turned off the light, I heard it.
From Her Womb.

A soft, uplifting-feathered sound.
It’s like… Laughter.

Episode 2 – The Secret Inside Her Stomach

When I woke up the next morning, Ada was no longer in bed.
The pillow he used was still wet with sweat, and there was a stain of dried blood on the shoe.
Suddenly, remembering what happened last night, I jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

The broken bowl was no longer there.
The floor was clean—too clean.
Nothing seemed to have happened.

I called out to him, “Wow! Where are you?”
Silence.
That is, until I heard the sound of rain coming from the bathroom.

I approached.
The noise of the water felt like it was intentionally hiding another sound inside.
I opened the door slightly—and there, I almost screamed.

Ada was standing under the rushing water,
naked, with her stomach moving.
It’s not just a baby’s behavior.
It was as if he had… Something else creeping in.
She tried to hold it, crying.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, trembling.
He turned to me—pale, trembling,
but his eyes, as if they were no longer his.

“Tunde…” He said softly. “He said he was hungry again.”
“Who is he?” he asked.
He grabbed her stomach. “It’s our son. But it wasn’t what you expected.”

I swallowed. “We need to go to the hospital.”

He shook his head. “I’ve tried. They couldn’t see him on the ultrasound.
He doesn’t have a heartbeat, but he moves.”
“That’s impossible,” I muttered.

He smiled coldly. “He’s not a man, Tunde.”
At the same time, he grabbed my hand and placed it on his stomach.

Hot. Tumble.
But it was different—not a heartbeat.
It’s like flapping wings.

I nodded, my eyes widened.
“Ada, what did you do?”

She cried. “I don’t want to!
One night, while you were sleeping, there was a knock on the door.
A woman—white, faceless.
He handed me the bottle… and said, ‘Drink it, so your son can live.’
I thought it was medicine—but when I drank it, since then, everything has changed.”

Suddenly, she screamed. He was stabbed in the stomach.
Blood was pouring out of his mouth.
I ran to support him, but he pushed me with extraordinary force.

“Run, Tunde!” he yelled. “WHEN HE COMES OUT, I CAN’T STOP HIM!”

Everything stopped at that moment.
Silence.
Then—a loud slap from inside his stomach.
Sounds like someone is knocking… From within.

“There is…” I nodded, shaking.
He looked at me—with a smile, with tears.
“And then forgive me, Tunde,” he said.
“But he wants to get to know you, too.”

Suddenly, the light went out.
The whole house went dark.

And in the darkness, I heard a voice—soft, but clear:
“Papa…”

Episode 3 – The Birth of the Creature

The whole house was dark.
The only light came from the lightning that occasionally came out,
shining on the face of my wife, Ada—kneeling on the floor,
her stomach moving as if someone wanted to disappear.

“Daddy…”
That voice came from his own stomach.
It is not a baby’s voice.
It was deep, cold, and felt like it came from underground.

“There is… We must flee,” I said, trembling.
But he didn’t move.
Her eyes were just staring at the floor,
her hands gripping her stomach tightly,
blood flowing down between her thighs.

“I couldn’t stop him,” she cried.
“I’m trying to fight back, but he wants to get out right now…”

I ran over to the phone, but there was no dial tone.
Even the lights are off.
When I opened the front door, the wind was heavy—
it felt like something was blocking.
It was as if someone was standing unseen outside the house.

When I looked at Ada, she was already standing up.
But he was no longer walking—
it was as if some strength was pulling him from within.
Her stomach moves, swells,
until something pops out of it—
a hand, but not a human hand.

The fingers are long, the nails are pointy, and the skin is gray.
I stepped back, screaming,
but Ada smiled, tears in her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid, Tunde. This is our son.”

Suddenly, the glass shattered through the window.
A cold breeze came in and with each flash of lightning,
I could see blood on the floor,
and the shadow slowly creeping out of her womb.

Ada’s scream was no longer a human sound.
A cry mingled with tears,
as blood gushed all around.
“It hurts, Tunde! Please help me!”

As I approached him, everything suddenly stopped.
Silence.
She bent over, trembling,
and out from under her skirt came out… A small creature.

Her skin was burned, gray and red.
They had blood-like eyes,
and a mouth full of sharp teeth.
But when I looked at it closely—
I saw my face.

“I…” I was stunned, incredulous.
He smiled, slowly, and said:
“Thank you for your blood, Papa.”

Suddenly, everything went dark.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital.
A doctor was sitting by my bedside,
as he looked at the wounds on my arm—bites, deep.

“Where’s Ada?” he asked.
He looked at me, hesitating.
“Sir… We didn’t have any patients here last night.
Your neighbors saw you bleeding on the road, alone.
You don’t have a partner.”

When I heard this, I suddenly stood up.
“No! He’s there! She gave birth—something came out of her!”

But before I could speak again,
there was a cry from the corner of the room—weak, like a baby’s cry.
I turned around.
There was no one there…
except for a small metal bowl filled with red liquid,resting
on the seat.

And above it, engraved a word—
“HE IS FULL.”

Episode 4 – The Child in the Dark

I stayed in the hospital for 3 days.
Every day, the nurses would tell me that Ada wasn’t there—that maybe I was just in shock or mentally disturbed by the trauma.
But I knew that what I saw was not a coincidence.
I know that Ada is real.
And the creature that came out of him is also true.

On the third night, while the patients were sleeping, I woke up to a cold breeze.
The window next to my bed was slightly open.
I reached over to close it—
but before I could put my hands on the glass,
there was a small fingerprint on the outside.
It was small, like a child’s hand.
But the shape of the fingers—long, sharp.

When I looked closer, it moved.
A faint but clear voice followed:
“Papa…”

I was stunned, screaming.
The nurse came in, surprised.
“SIR, WHAT IS THAT?”
“There’s a baby outside!” he yelled.
But when we both looked—it was gone.
Only the hand print slowly disappears from the mirror.

A few hours later, I was sent home.
But when I got home, it felt like something had changed.
Cold. Silence.
It felt like someone was watching my every move.

By the end of the night, I was forced to sleep.
But about two o’clock in the morning, I heard a sound of footsteps in the living room—small, slow, like a child’s footsteps.
My heart sank.
I grabbed the flashlight and slowly made my way down the stairs.

When I turned on the light, I couldn’t see anything.
Until I noticed something under the table:
a small metal bowl.
Filled with red liquid.
It was the same as Ada’s.

Suddenly, someone laughed.
A soft laugh, like a child’s joke but mixed with old-fashionedness.
I walked over, shaking.
The wind seemed to stop.
And out of the darkness in the corner of the house—something came out.

A child.
Naked. Pale.
Her eyes were red and there was blood in her mouth.
He smiled at me, slowly, as if familiar.

“Daddy,” he said.
“You shouldn’t have left me in the dark.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, trembling.
“I just want to be with you.
“Mom said you were going to feed me now.”

Before I could understand what he meant, he looked behind me.
I looked slowly.
And that’s when I saw—Ada.

Standing in the dark, soaked, stomach with a big wound, it felt like it had been opened.
He smiled, pale, almost speechless.
“We’ll be together again, Tunde.”

As they approached, I ran to the door—
but couldn’t open it.
It was like a slap in the face from the outside.
As they approached, I felt my body slowly weaken,
and the light of my flashlight flickered.

The last I saw before I lost consciousness:
the child, on my chest,
as he handed the bowl of blood to Ada.

And in between their laughter,
a voice whispered in my ear:
“We’re full, Papa.”

Episode 5 – The House That Is No Longer Silent

When I opened my eyes, I was home.
This is not the house I left last night.
The walls, the floor, the door were the same—
but everything seemed older, dirtier, and smelled of rust and blood.

I stood up, my head spinning.
The air was heavy, like there was dust that wasn’t just dust.
When I noticed the pictures on the wall—
I stopped.

It was all a picture of the three of us: me, Ada, and… The Child.
He looked at the camera, smiling.
But his eyes—red, and with each shot, he drew closer and closer to the lens.

I can’t remember when it was filmed.
I don’t remember having these pictures at home.
And on the back of each frame, there is a little line written:
“Always full when there is blood.”

Suddenly, there was a sound upstairs—it sounded like something was moving in the room.
I grabbed the baseball bat that was next to the door and slowly climbed up.
As I climbed, every footstep felt like it was sinking into the wood,
as if the house was breathing.

At the end of the stairs, the door to our old room opened slightly.
There was a faint light coming from inside.
Ada was there.
Facing the closet, it looked like someone was talking.
He didn’t notice I was there.

“There is…” I call you weak.
He slowly turned around.
But the face I used to love, now I barely recognize it.
The lips are pale, dry, and have glistening veins under the skin.

“We’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” he said, his voice cold.
“Didn’t you kill your son?”

“Where is he?” he asked, trembling.

He smiled, slowly.
He pointed to the closet.
“Here. He was still asleep. He was hungry again.”

I walked over, shaking, and opened the closet door.
Inside it was dark.
At first, I thought it was empty—until I saw two twinkling eyes.
Red.
And the hands that were slowly reaching out, dirty, long, full of blood.

“Dad…” He whispered. “I’m awake.”

I stepped back, I hit the cupboard with a bat,
but each blow felt like it was hitting the flesh, not the wood.
A scream filled the room.
The light flickered,
the air cooled,
and Ada suddenly stepped closer,
her eyes burning under the darkness.

“You can’t leave him again, Tunde,” he said.
“You don’t know how hungry he was when you left.”

“Are you leaving?” he asked, trembling. “When—when did I leave?”

He smiled.
“That was three years ago.
“You’re dead, Tunde. But you’re back… Because we have called you.”

Before I could answer, the door suddenly opened.
A hand gripped my neck, cold, sticky.
And in the darkness, from inside the closet, the child appeared—
but now, he was no longer a child.
He was taller, thinner,
his skin was like the skin of a snake that had been stripped of flesh.
He smiled.

“Welcome home, Papa.”

---

The next day, the neighbors found our house with all the doors locked.
No one lives.
At night, they heard a woman’s
footsteps and the sound of a child running on the floor.

And sometimes, when they look out the window,
there are three shadows standing in the living room—
a man, a woman, and a child with eyes twinkling in red.

Episode 6 – The Blood Returns

I don’t remember how I got there.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the floor of my old house—
but there was something strange.
The walls were full of carvings that I couldn’t understand.
Symbols.
Eyes.
Names.

And in the midst of all that — my name: TUNDE ADELEKE, written in blood.

I stood up, gasping for breath, as my head shook my head.
On the floor, there were dry drops of blood that seemed to be heading towards our son’s room.
I followed that slowly.
Every step was accompanied by a whisper — voices of people I didn’t know, but felt like I had been hearing for a long time.

When I got to the room, the closet was open.
Empty — except for an old box.
I opened it.
Inside, there’s an old notebook, a dried rose, and a piece of paper that’s almost erased with age.
It was written in Ada’s hand:

“If you’re reading this, it means you’re back.
You don’t have to 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 every line.

“The first time I felt him move in my stomach, I knew something was wrong.
He did not come from us.
Every night, a woman comes to visit me in my dream — white, faceless,
and says that the child will keep the blood of your race.
‘The blood of the Adelekes should not die,’ he said.
But the price — me.”

I was gripped in my chest.
That’s when I noticed — there was a stitch in the middle of my chest, a long, dry wound.
It’s like… I was opened.
It’s like something has been removed — or something has been returned.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me.
When I turned around, there was Ada — dressed in the same bloody robe.
But now, he is calmer.
It’s more real.
Or more of a ghost.

“Tunde,” he said, calmly.
“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Tell me the truth,” I cried. “What’s the child? Why am I still here?”

He smiled, bitterly.
“You are the reason why he lived.”
I was stunned. “Me?”

“Your family has been cursed for a long time,” he explained.
“Back in the days of your ancestor Oba Adeleke — an altruist who refused to take back the life of a woman’s son.
He was cursed: ‘Your descendants will not die completely.
Every blood will come back — but there will be a price to pay.’”

He approached, gently.
“Our son… He was not an ordinary child.
He is the embodiment of all the souls of the Adeleke who have not finished their lives.
And you, Tunde — you’re the ultimate blood.
So even if you’re dead… Come back.
To feed him.”

I shuddered. “No… Impossible…”

But before I could finish, I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Angry. Heavy.
I turned around — the boy.
He’s older now, like an eight-year-old.
Eyes flickered red,
and with every step he took, leaving blood marks on the floor.

“Daddy,” he said.
“You know now, don’t you?
I’m not bad.
I was the only one my family needed to survive.”

I looked at Ada, she was crying.
“Please forgive me, Tunde.
I didn’t know this was going to happen.
But if I hadn’t resurrected him… You’re going to die.”

I was stunned, confused, gasping for breath.
“What do you mean—I was dead then?”

He nodded, weakly.
“You’ve had an accident. You’ve been dead for three years, Tunde.
I used his blood to bring you back.”

My eyes widened.
I looked at the boy.
He smiled, coldly, and reached out his hand.

“Daddy,” he said, “it’s time for you to give us your blood.”

Episode 7 – The End of Last Blood

The chill of the air felt like it was cutting through my skin.
I stood in the middle of the living room, facing my biological daughter,
and Ada — my wife who loved and sacrificed everything for me.

“Daddy,” said the boy,
“we’ve been waiting for you for a long time.
Can’t you hear the cry of blood?”

With every word he spoke,
I could feel the wind swirling,
the shadows moving around.
It was as if the house itself was breathing,
and every breath of it smelled of iron and blood.

Ada grabbed me by the shoulder.
“Tunde… That was the end of the curse.
But you have to make a choice.”

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 race will continue,
but you will be a slave to the curse for life.”

“If you refuse,”
his tone changed,
“he’ll die,
and I’ll be gone too.
But the curse… It’s going to end.”

Everyone was silent.
There was nothing to be heard but the faint splash of blood from the ceiling.
I looked at the boy — at my son,
with red eyes but full of sadness.

“Daddy…”
he came over to me.
“I didn’t choose to be like this.
I just want to be with you.”

Those words were like a knife to my chest.
I don’t know if he was a demon or an innocent soul.
But for the first time,
I saw him — not a monster, but a child.

I walked over, kneeling down in front of him.
I grabbed her cold hand.
“I’m the reason you’re here,” I said.
“If anyone has to pay, it’s me.”

“No!” cried Ada.
“If you do that, you’re going to lose!”

I smiled at him, bitterly.
“I’ve been gone for a long time, Ada.
This mistake must be stopped.”

I took the bowl of blood from the altar in the middle of the sin.
Heavy, flickering in the candlelight.
I lifted it up, and cut off my palm with an old knife on the side.
My blood flowed through the bowl,
and at that moment, the carvings on the wall were on fire—
ancient symbols of our race.

The boy screamed,
but not in pain—
in fear.
“Daddy, that’s right! I don’t like this!”

Ada came over and cried,
“Stop, Tunde! That’s right!”

But I couldn’t take a step back.
As the blood continued to flow,
the surroundings gradually brightened—
and the shadows on the walls began to fade.

Ada hugged me, tightly.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“No one needs to suffer anymore.”

And the last drop of my blood in the bowl,
the light exploded.
Everything stopped.
Silence.

When I opened my eyes,
the boy was gone.
Ada is gone.
There was no blood, no bowls, no homes.

It was standing in the middle of an old cemetery.
In front of me, there was a sparkle:

TUNDE ADELEKE (1991–2021)
“Blood goes back to the source.”

And at that moment,
a faint but clear voice whispered into the air:
“Thank you, Papa.”

---

Since then, it is said that on the night of the full moon,
a man stood on the edge of the cemetery —
just looking into the air,
as if waiting for someone to come back.

And sometimes,
when the air is cold,
you can hear a child laughing in the dark.