Here’s a 500-word story inspired by your request:
It was late in the evening when my phone buzzed, interrupting the quiet evening I had planned. I glanced at the screen and saw my dad’s name flashing. He was the kind of person who never called unless something was urgent, so I immediately answered, my heart already racing with a sense of unease.
“Dad?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Something strange is happening to your mom,” he said, his voice filled with panic. “Come quick. I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s acting… not like herself. You and your brother need to get here now.”
My stomach dropped. My mom had always been healthy, vibrant, and full of life. She had no history of health issues that would cause her to suddenly act out of character. “What’s happening to her?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“I don’t know, she’s… she’s just not right. She’s talking about things that don’t make sense, her eyes look different, and she keeps saying things that are completely out of the ordinary. Please, just come.”
Before I could ask any more questions, he hung up. I immediately called my brother, and within minutes, he was on his way. We lived a few hours apart, so it would take us both some time to get there, but something about the urgency in Dad’s voice left me feeling sick with worry. I had no idea what was happening to Mom, but I knew I couldn’t sit idly by.
As I drove, I replayed Dad’s words over and over in my head. “Something strange is happening.” It was unsettling. Was Mom sick? Had something changed in her brain chemistry? Or was it something more inexplicable? All sorts of worst-case scenarios ran through my mind.
When we finally arrived at my parents’ house, my brother and I rushed inside. The house was eerily quiet. I called out for Dad, but there was no answer. The living room was dimly lit, and when I turned the corner into the kitchen, I froze.
Mom was sitting at the table, her back to us. But there was something wrong. Her posture was stiff, unnatural, and her hands were clenched tightly on the edge of the table. As I stepped closer, I noticed her eyes—they were wide, unblinking, but vacant, as if she wasn’t fully there.
“Mom?” I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. “Mom, are you okay?”
She slowly turned her head toward me, her gaze locking onto mine. But when she spoke, it wasn’t my mom’s voice. It was almost robotic, hollow. “I am not who you think I am,” she said, her lips barely moving. The words didn’t sound like her, and the tone was completely foreign. “I’ve been here too long.”
My heart pounded. This wasn’t my mom. This wasn’t the woman I had grown up with.
Before I could process what was happening, Dad appeared from the hallway, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear. “She keeps saying these strange things. She doesn’t recognize me sometimes, and she’s talking like someone else… like she’s not even herself.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. Something was happening to my mother, something neither of us could understand. As I looked into her blank eyes, I knew that we were about to enter a terrifying unknown—and whatever it was, we had no idea how to save her.
Let me know if you’d like to adjust any part of the story!
