MY AUNT WHO NEVER HAD A CHILD WAS SECRETLY FEEDING A BABOON

MY AUNT WHO NEVER HAD A CHILD WAS SECRETLY FEEDING A BABOON

I grew up with an aunt who has always been a mystery in our family. She has never had a child, never been pregnant, and honestly never even dated anyone. But every few months, we would see her buying nappies, formula, baby food, snacks, and even baby clothes. At night, baby clothes would be hanging on her washing line as if she had a whole little one living with her.

At first, we thought maybe she was lonely and pretending to have a child. Some even said she had a mental illness. We searched her whole house so many times, but we never found a single trace of a baby. Not even a toy. Nothing. Just her, living quietly and minding her business.

What confused us even more was her lifestyle. She has never worked a day in her life, yet she always has money. Her fridge is never empty, her electricity never goes off, and she dresses better than all of us. People around the neighbourhood started rumours, saying she lives with a monkey that only comes out at night. We laughed at it because it sounded crazy.

But all that changed the night I slept at her house.

That night, I felt something strange the moment I lay down. It was like something was staring at me in the dark. I tried to sleep but the feeling got stronger, almost like someone was standing next to my bed.

Around midnight, I decided to go downstairs to get some water. I didn’t switch on the lights because I didn’t want to disturb her. When I reached the kitchen, I heard soft noises. Like chewing. Like something eating.

I slowly turned on the light.

My aunt was sitting there, holding a bowl, feeding a baboon.

Not a little one. A full-grown baboon. It was sitting calmly in front of her like a child eating pap. She looked peaceful, like this was something she had been doing for years. The baboon didn’t even look wild. It looked too comfortable. Too familiar with the house.

I froze. My heart almost stopped. My aunt looked up at me, but her eyes were blank—like she wasn’t fully awake or like she wasn’t even herself. She didn’t scream, she didn’t panic. She just stared at me with this empty, tired look.

The moment I gasped, she blinked as if she was waking up from a dream. Then she looked around the kitchen, confused. By the time I looked back, the baboon was gone. Vanished. I don’t know how something that big disappears so fast.

The next morning she was back to her usual self, talking normally, cooking, acting like nothing happened. When I asked her about the baboon, she got scared. Not angry—scared. She told me I must stop making up stories. She looked genuinely frightened, like she had no memory of what happened or like she was scared of what she might be doing without knowing.

That’s when everything started making sense.

The nappies.

The formula.

The baby clothes at night.

The money she never worked for.

The rumours about a monkey.

The strange stare I felt in the dark.

I don’t know what she did or what agreement she made. But whatever she is living with… it is not a child. And she is definitely not in control of it.

Sometimes I wonder if she even sleeps, or if **something else** borrows her body at night.

And the worst part?

The baby clothes on her washing line… might not be meant for a baby at all.