This is a story of a boy I met when I was still young. His name was James Elkin, and he lived in the house two doors down from me. We weren’t friends, but I did greet him a few times when I saw him. He always looked small for a nine-year-old and had long, uneven hair.
I remember walking past his home on my way to school each day. Many times, I saw him out collecting insects. He never harmed them. He wasn’t very friendly, but he wasn’t cruel either. His parents were always very kind, often offering jobs to us younger kids so we could earn a little change for bubble gum or something we wanted. Because of this, our parents became friends, but James still wasn’t much of a talker.
Over the years, we fell out of touch—or at least what little contact we had, faded away.
Fast forward around ten years. I came home from the city to visit my parents out in the country. I noticed that the grass around James’s parents’ old house was overgrown, the shingles were falling off, the paint had faded, and the shutters lay on the ground. I didn’t expect this because the last time I was home, about a year ago, the house had been so lively.
After I got settled, Mom called me to dinner from my room, where I had been studying for an exam I had in a week. I came downstairs and sat at the table, talking and laughing with Dad as Mom brought out the food.
I asked Dad what had happened to the Elkins. His face turned sour, and he looked at the ground. Mom said, “Son, we don’t need to talk about—”
Dad interrupted her and said, “No. He needs to know the truth.”
I will now recall what my father told me about the gruesome incident that happened in the Elkin home and why the house is now condemned.
According to my father, James never had much of a social life when he was younger. But with hesitation, he finally began talking to people. He started looking to be accepted anywhere he could, even among bad crowds. Somehow, he got involved with a cult.
Not long after, he began isolating himself completely, blocking himself off in his room with his insects. He never came out—no matter how much Mrs. Elkin begged him. He wouldn’t even leave to get food or water.
A month after his initial self-quarantine, Mr. and Mrs. Elkin called in first responders to take the door down and bring him out. To their horror, they found him sitting in the fetal position in the corner of his room. His eyes and mouth were void of any organs—no tongue, no teeth, no eyes—just empty darkness. His skin was wrinkled and aged, his jaw limp and lifeless. His once full, long brown hair was reduced to a few strands, and his body was covered in pustules and boils.
When the medical staff approached James, he suddenly stood up and let out a blood-curdling, inhuman noise. Small, spider-like parasites spewed from the voids where his eyes and mouth had been. His jaw fell wide open, and his skin collapsed like a shell to the floor.
The parasites began attacking the medical staff and the Elkin family, leaving behind nothing but blood and gore. When backup inevitably arrived, they reported glimpses of an inhuman James running into the woods. He hasn’t been seen since. Inside the house was a horrifying, bloody scene.
It’s been a year since then. After hearing this story, I began investigating the cult as well as the odd and tragic events that took place in the Elkin home. What I’ve learned so far shakes me to my core.
Now, every time I see a spider, I shudder because you never know when James Elkin might come back to claim another victim.
I’ll update this post if I come across any new evidence of importance.