Progeny

I never asked for a younger brother. The house smelled different after he arrived-like rot tucked into the seam of the sofa. That backpack made my skin crawl: dead rabbits, a squirrel I'd watched get flattened, a kid who could make animals move and men step backward into traffic.

They called Leo weird. I called him dangerous.

Dad called it adoption and healing. Mom called it grace. I called it trouble.

But when my mother found the journal hidden in his bag, everything changed-her discovery didn't just hurt our family; it killed her. After that, the rules of the house shifted. Monsters started wearing familiar faces, and the man who'd taught me to trust therapists began to show his true face-hollowed, horned, and hungry.

If you think monsters live outside town, you haven't seen what a child can raise in his basement.

Told up close and uneasy, this is the story of a brother who won't let you sleep. When secrets, grief, and ancient devotion collide, a suburban home becomes the breeding ground for horror.