After a Month, My Family Sat Chipped and Vacant, Eating Live Insects — My Father Called It 'Wellness'
Part 1
🪲 **My Entire Family Sat Chipped and Vacant, Eating Live Insects — And My Father Called It ‘Wellness.’**
I just walked into my childhood home after a month of no contact.
The moment I opened the door, I froze.
My entire family—my parents, my sister, my cousins—sat around the dinner table, their eyes vacant.
They all had strange, glowing chips taped to their temples, casually eating plates of live insects.
When I rushed to pull my sister, Sarah, away, she turned to look at me with a lifeless gaze.
“David,” she said in a flat voice, “our memories have been ‘cleaned.’
Now it’s your turn.”
My father, Elias, smiled thinly from the head of the table.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
This wasn’t Sarah.
Not the Sarah who laughed too loud and argued about politics.
Her eyes, once so full of life, were like polished stones.
“Sarah, what are you talking about?” I demanded, my voice shaking.
I reached for the chip on her temple, a small, circular device emitting a faint, sickly green glow.
Her head didn’t move an inch.
Her gaze remained fixed.
“The Harmony Protocol,” she recited, her voice a monotone, devoid of inflection.
“It eliminates discord. It creates a perfectly obedient family unit.”
I stared at her, then swept my gaze across the table.
My mother, Elaine, sat utterly still, her plate piled with wriggling mealworms.
My cousin, Thomas, usually so jovial, chewed slowly, his expression blank.
Emily, sharp-witted Emily, was utterly passive.
“Elias,” I said, my voice rising.
“What have you done to them?”
My father slowly dabbed his lips with a napkin.
He looked utterly serene.
“David,” he said, his tone annoyingly calm, “you’re home. We’ve missed you.”
He gestured to the empty seat beside Sarah.
“Come. Join us. The ‘cleaning’ process can begin after dinner.”
My stomach churned.
“Cleaning? This is monstrous! What are those chips? What are they eating?”
Sarah turned her head slightly, enough to look at the insects on her plate.
“They are a protein paste,” she explained, still in that unnerving voice.
“Required for initial integration. Supplies vital nutrients for newly ‘cleaned’ members.”
A wave of nausea hit me.
This wasn’t a joke.
This wasn’t some strange cult my family had joined.
This was Elias.
My own father.
“David, don’t be dramatic,” Elias said, a hint of steel entering his voice.
“This is for their own good. For *your* own good. No more arguments. No more petty resentments. Just harmony.”
He picked up a small, glistening chip from a velvet-lined box next to his plate.
It pulsed with the same faint green light.
“You’re not just a visitor, son. You’re the next integrated member.”
He held it out, his thin smile unwavering.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I pushed back from the table, knocking my chair over with a clatter.
My mind raced, searching for an exit.
The front door was behind me, but my family was between me and it.
All of them.
Their vacant eyes were now all turned towards me, not just Sarah’s.
They were perfectly still.
Waiting.
My own family.
They weren’t family anymore.
They were guards.
I was trapped.
Elias watched, his thin smile stretching wider.
Part 2
My eyes darted around the dining room.
No clear path to the door.
My gaze fell on the antique grandfather clock.
Behind it, a loose floorboard.
A secret tunnel from my childhood.
I lunged, knocking over a chair.
Sarah lunged too, her movements stiff.
I yanked the board up, dropping into the musty darkness.
Footsteps pounded above.
I scrambled through the narrow passage.
The tunnel led to the overgrown back forty.
Hidden in the dense woods, I caught my breath.
A voice drifted from the house.
Elias’s.
He was on a secure line, his tone firm.
“Accelerate Phase Two,” he ordered.
“The Caldwell Summer Estate will be the primary Wellness Retreat.
More room for expansion.
The extended family needs integration.”
My blood ran cold.
My father’s ambitions stretched far beyond our dining room.
Just then, a bus rumbled down the long driveway.
It was filled with people.
Their expressions were muted.
As it pulled up to what was once our ancestral summer home, the door hissed open.
Among the new arrivals, a familiar face from my childhood.
My distant cousin.
He stepped off the bus.
His eyes, too, held that familiar vacant stare.
A glowing chip was taped to his temple.
How many more of us would Elias take?
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