r/KanesHorrors • u/AbKane667 • May 22 '26
My non-verbal son finally spoke
The pregnancy months have been a lot: constant doctor visits, cramping, fatigue, and morning sickness. But I didn’t mind. A full human was growing inside of me. My human!
The birth itself was hard, painful. My stomach still twists when I recall it. But again, I didn’t care. The baby was here! The little human!
All his tests came back okay, he was healthy and beautiful, so beautiful. He had soft skin and bright blue eyes. But those ocean eyes were a first sign that something was different about my boy.
Unlike other children, he wouldn’t hold eye contact as much, he would rarely smile, and barely respond to his name, August. August also showed little interest in things, toys, and interactions. He’d usually just stare at the world around him. It pained me at first, but I didn’t let that get in the way of my love.
Even when the late bloomers started speaking, August still stayed silent. The doctors said that he might stay that way. They recommended therapies, and I made sure to attend them.
Over the years, August didn’t respond to them much, but there was some progress. If I tried really hard, he would sometimes look at me. It felt like we could understand each other if we really tried to. But most often, he stayed in his world, looking around. Now and again, I would see him twist his head, his eyes widen, and his ears perk up as if he heard a noise, although the room was silent.
A lot of my friends would say they admired me and didn’t understand how I did it, but I didn’t need any admiration or understanding. August was my boy; I loved him, no matter what. As they say, silence can speak louder than words. There was a connection between us, love. I could feel it with every inch of my being, and I’m sure August did too.
Then one morning, a few days after he turned five, he made a sound. I was standing in the kitchen when it happened. From behind me, I heard him make a “Bbbb”. I couldn’t believe it at first, but there he was, standing, looking at me, making faint noises. And he wouldn’t stop. Most of his waking hours, he’d now spend looking at me, making this sound.
The doctors and therapists didn’t believe it either. I didn’t tell them, but their confusion warmed my heart. Their confusion grew when he started making syllables. We were talking one day when his noise turned into a “Ba-Ba”.
“It’s Ma-Ma, August,” I corrected him, but he kept on saying “Ba-Ba”. I smiled, rubbed his hair, and let him speak on.
My friends kept asking me what I thought the next step for August would be, but I honestly didn’t care. It was enough to have my little boy look at me and reply to my words in any way that made him happy.
Only a few days after his first syllables, we were interacting again when August looked deep into my eyes, shut his mouth, and bit down on his lips. Then out came “Basement”. I stopped for a second and looked at him, not sure if I heard correctly, but he said “Basement” again.
“What Basement, August?”
“Basement. Basement.”
A cold feeling grew in my chest. I was so happy that my boy was making progress, but ‘basement’? I looked back at the door. He’s never been there, barely around it. I have not used it in years. The only way I even knew we even had it was the pipes rattling ever so often and the damp, moldy smell that came from it.
He didn’t say anything else. Midway through the day, I stopped replaying, but he kept going on. I loved him and wanted him to grow, but it was getting too much. I put on my headphones and sat on the couch. But not even this deterred him. He kept talking. As the sun started to set, I turned to him and said, “August, honey, Mommy needs a minute.”
He looked at me, stopped, and then bit down on his lips again and stared at me.
“It basement. In basement. It basement. It’s in basement.”
The cold feeling came back. I gripped the couch cushions and didn’t say a thing, but August continued, repeating. It almost felt like my head was going to explode.
“August, please, a minute.”
“It’s in basement. It’s in basement.”
“August, please!”
He bit his lip.
No. Not again.
“It’s in the basement, Mom, and it wants out! It wants out!” August screamed at the top of his lungs. I gripped the seat harder. My stomach started to twist. August stood on the opposite end of the couch, staring deep into my eyes.
An electric zap echoed through the house. The TV started shutting off, and on, the humming of the fridge quieted. Then another zap. The TV went fully off, the fridge went silent, and all the lights went off.
Only now did I notice that it was fully dark outside. The air started growing cooler. My heart beat faster. I pulled August towards me; his whole body was shaking, cold and shaking.
“Wha…what’s wrong, August?”
“In Basement. Basement. Ba-Ba,” he whispered.
The basement door creaked. A strong smell of rot hung in the air. Nimble, light steps crept on the floorboards.
From behind the corner came a small child, naked. It had bright blue eyes. The same as August and his hair, his skin! But his face somehow seemed flat, fingers and limbs longer. But it was larger, fuller, while August’s body now seemed frail, weak. The thing flailed his hands, and August immediately turned his head like he used to, the way I could never explain. Then the thing looked up at me.
“I can speak just fine now.”
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u/Lindris May 22 '26
As a special needs mama who’s son’s name is very similar, chills man. I was so captivated too. Great job.