Daniel, their father, said they buried him with their own hands 7 years ago. He asked how he had returned. John smiled eerily and didn't respond. That night, everyone went to bed. John fell asleep beside Novia around 11:00 p.m.
At 3:00 a.m., Novia suddenly woke up and noticed that John was no longer in bed. She looked around and saw him standing near the door, facing it, scratching it with his nails. She thought that he was sleepwalking. So, she gently led him back to bed and told him to sleep.
The next morning, the family was enjoying tea together. John kept refusing the cookies and milk. Then his mom, Mary, asked:
"Weren't cookies your favorite, John? You literally used to cry when I didn't give you any."
John said in a grave voice,
"Yeah. But after living with them, I like flesh more."
The family exchanged uneasy glances.
Daniel asked, "Who?"
John kept repeating, "Where are they?"
No one knew who he was talking about.
In the afternoon, John was drawing in his notebook. Novia asked curiously what he was drawing. He handed her the notebook but the drawings were strange.
He had drawn himself and six others using a black marker, their faces and figures eerily distorted.
She asked, "Who are these people? There are only four of us in the family."
He replied, "They are my family. These aren't you."
His expression darkened as he stared at her.
Novia sighed, unsure of what to say.
She had a habit of writing a journal every day since John had passed away. At night, she sat at the table and wrote:
Dear Diary,
"I got my brother back yesterday. I wonder if it's a miracle by God or what, but something is wrong. John isn't acting like himself. This is not how my little munchkin used to be. I don't know why, but I feel as if he is someone else, disguised as John."
Good Night
The ink on the page hadn't dried, but her hands were already trembling.