The Rice Cracker Incident

I had returned to my hometown of Belo Horizonte after a decade away, hoping to find solace in the familiar hills and the comforting chaos of my family’s old apartment. But the city felt different now, and my own home seemed to hold its breath. My sister, Mariana, had always been the one to keep things light, but lately she’d been quiet, hiding behind a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I thought a visit might help, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut.

One sweltering January morning, I woke to the sound of my brother-in-law, Renato, sneezing by the window. He’d been staying over, his presence a small comfort in the oppressive heat. I shuffled to the living room, where Mariana sat cross-legged on the floor, a half-empty bag of those rice crackers I’d brought from a trip to Kyoto in her lap. She had never been one for late-night snacks, but there she was, munching away.

‘Tendo pensamentos profundos?’ I asked, trying to sound light. She shrugged, not meeting my eyes. I headed to the bathroom, the tiles cool against my bare feet. When I came out, the living room was plunged into darkness. The bag of crackers, the lamp’s glow, Mariana—all gone. The only light came from the kitchen, where I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator.

‘Tão derepente,’ I murmured, my heart starting to race. I called out for Mariana, but only the hum answered. I checked the kitchen, the bedrooms, the tiny balcony. Nothing. Renato was still in my room, staring out the window. He turned when I entered, his face pale. He pointed to the empty street below, where a single figure stood under a flickering streetlamp, too still, too familiar. It was Mariana, but she was holding the bag of crackers, and her head was tilted at an unnatural angle.

I rushed downstairs, but by the time I reached the street, she was gone. The bag lay on the pavement, torn and empty. I looked around, but the street was deserted. That’s when I noticed the strange symbol etched into the concrete beneath the lamp, a pattern I’d never seen before, but it seemed to pulse with an eerie life. I felt a sudden chill despite the heat, and I knew, with a dread that settled deep in my bones, that Mariana wasn’t the same person who had been here before. And neither was I. The rice crackers were just the beginning; the real horror had been waiting in the dark, and it had finally come home.