This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Oblivious_Gentleman on 2026-08-11 16:29:27+00:00.

---

When I was my parent’s only child, I really wanted an older sibling. I remember seeing the other kids in school getting to class aboard their older sibling’s cars, and I always felt a bit of envy, wishing that I also had one brother that could do the same. I remember recently seeing a family album with my parents with a letter they helped me write when I was little, asking Santa Claus for an older brother.

Life had other plans, and instead of getting what I asked for, my mother became pregnant with my two sisters when I was about six years old. Even if I was not wishing for sisters in my Christmas letter, I was pretty happy with the possibility of being the older brother who would take them to school, but my parents were uneasy: when my grandma was pregnant with my mother, she was actually supposed to have two daughters, but my aunt died during childbirth. Knowing what had happened, my father prayed day and night that the same would not happen to my sisters.

Months passed, and since my grandmother lost my aunt in a natural birth, my parents opted for a cesarean section in order to deliver my sisters. The day came, and although my parents did not told me about their fear that the delivery could have complications (i was too young, so i do not judge them for that), i remember that i could pick up on signs that something was bothering them, but being the timid child i was, i decided to not ask questions.

I stayed with my grandparents whilst my parents were in the hospital, and I remember how much I hated the old house my grandma used to live in. My mother was always a deeply superstitious person, and said I inherited my grandmother’s talent to detect spirits and evil places. I have been an agnostic since my teens, and do not believe in spirits of any sort, but there was something about that house that could be described as haunting: it was wooden and crocked, and whilst it was located in a suburb near the center of our town, there was a lot of bushes and trees in the back of the house where the bedroom windows faced. I was in the guest’s bedroom watching cartoons on a 2000s CRT TV, when I heard something knocking on the window.

I thought it was my grandfather tapping on the glass, so I asked him what he wanted. No response, and the knocking started again. I realized it was not my grandfather, got up and started moving towards the curtains in order to see who was making that sound, but something inside me made me stop. I got possessed by a feeling of dread and unease that I never experienced as a child before that day, and I simply could not open the curtains.

The knocking became more incessant, till the thing was slamming the windows so hard, I feared it would break and it would get to me. Then, the thing stopped beating onto the window, and I heard a child’s cry coming from there. For a reason that I still do not understand today, the child’s crying snapped me out of my frozen state, and I ran onto the window and opened its curtains. Nothing was there. I kept this experience a secret, and never told it to anyone to this day.

After a couple of days, my parents finally got out of the hospital, and took me out of my grandparent’s house. I was relieved, until I noticed that my mother was only holding one baby. That made me curious about what happened to my other sister, but what made me really disturbed was the fact that no one, not even my grandparents, seemed to care that only one baby was there.

I was afraid to ask what happened, but once we left my grandparent’s house, i could not hold it anymore, and asked my parents what happened to my sister. They looked at me as if they did not understand what I was talking about, and I became so bothered I started to cry, pleading for an answer.

Out of the blue, my father started shouting at me to shut up. I had never seen my father explode like that, and I felt extremely guilty, even if I did not knew what I had done wrong. I looked to my mother for help, but all she did was hold on to my newborn sister and look at the empty night streets as tears ran through her face.

Weeks passed, and my parents continued life as if nothing had happened. I tried to pretend as well as they did, even if they never told me why we were acting, but I could never shake up the feeling that something was wrong. My newborn sister seemed to also recognize it, as she was a very clingy and sensitive baby, never once laughing, but crying and screaming at everything. One night, she was particularly upset, and my parents and I could not sleep due to the noises she was making. I heard my parents fighting with each other, and then my father got out of the house. I also heard my mother crying, and wanted to comfort her with hugs as I once did, but I felt as if she had grown cold towards me, and my younger self did not feel safe with her as I once did.

My father comes back to the house after a couple of hours, holding a baby in his arms. That was my second sister, he said.

My mother was mortified, and they locked me into my room as they started screaming at one another again. After some time, though, the fighting stopped, my parents forgave each other, and now I was supposed to pretend my parents came from the hospital with my two sisters, not only one.

They put the second baby onto my sister’s crib, and her crying ceased, replaced by an expression of silent terror that I had never seen a baby do before. I knew that my little sister was not comfortable with sharing her crib, and so did my parents but, shamefully, I have to admit I preferred to see her quiet and scared rather than screaming and crying as she did before.

Years passed, and my two sisters grew to be exact physical copies of each other, but very different people in any other regard. My first sister, the one my parents first took out of the hospital, grew up to be a very quiet and timid child, to a point that would make me look extroverted when I was young. Even though she was a closed book for most people, she seemed to feel at ease with me, which made me close to her in a way that I never was with anyone else. My second sister, the one my father took in later, was identical to my first one in appearance, but something about her eyes and behaviour deeply disturbed me. She was more mischievous and cruel, killing pets that our parents would sometimes buy for us, such as hamsters and cats. My parents tried her best to discipline her, but nothing would work.

My second sister had… Difficulty integrating with other kids. In the kindergarten, my parents would be constantly called by the professors, as my sister would attack other kids regularly. Once, she bit off a kid’s ear, and my parents had to pay tons in damages for their parents. Even though my sister gave my parents many problems as she grew, they would grow to love her more than me and my other sister, calling her “miracle child”. I feared my little sister even if she had not done anything against me at that point in time, because I could swear looking at her dead fish eyes that no soul was driving that kid's body.

She quickly learned that her violent behaviour could get her in trouble with others, so as she grew, she started learning new ways to hide her cruelty, and only strike when she knew she could get away with it. Me and my other sister look with envy as she was considered by others to be a prodigy at school, a popular and talented girl, whilst knowing that she would go out with “friends” later in the night to harass and beat homeless people, or would leave scars on the special needs kid she once took care of, and blame it on something else.

During that period of my life, I had a recurrent nightmare in which I would wake up in my bed, and I would hear something knocking at my window, similar to the experience I once had in my grandparents house, but due to the streetlights coming from outside, i could see the silhouette of the thing on the other side: a slim and tall figure, with a disproportionately big head and hands with long and skeletal-like fingers. I would refuse to open the window, and to this day I am still unsure if those were dreams or the figure was really at my window.

Everything came to an end when I was 20 years old. My twin sisters were both 15 at the time when my grandparents died. A terrible fire engulfed their house, and they unfortunately did not survive. My grandparents had cut my parents off from their lives at some point of our childhood for reasons that our parents never spoke to us about, so we did not have much of a relationship with them. My mother was still devastated at her parents death, and she decided to go to their funeral alongside my father, leaving me responsible for my sisters.

They still had classes to attend, and as they studied in different places, I decided to drive them there myself. I left my first sister at her school, she kissed my cheek and hugged me, and just like that, I was alone with my other sister.

At this point in time, we both had reached a secret agreement to not speak to each other: it was obvious to her that me and my sister despised her, and we were aware that she was incapable of loving anyone, so we decided from an early age to not engage with one another, thus preventing fights that would get us punished by our parents. She broke that agreement that day and spoke to me.

She started saying horrible things and taunting me: she said she met a girl at her school who accidentally got pregnant ...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1vlmd0z/my_little_sister_is_not_human/