Memories are a key part of your journey through life. Sometimes those memories can be comforting. Other times they can drown you in emotions so strong that you can't help but shut them out. But then there's the memories you misremember. The ones your mind twists from being mundane to something terrifying...
My brother and I had been looking after my grandfather in the hospital for a while. He was such a great person. He got the chance to travel the world and collect relics to share with the rest of my family. He told us about how he survived alone in the woods for a week with just the clothes on his back. He shared about how he met a wonderful lady in South Africa that he kept in contact with ever since. He even told us about how he helped save a small town in Italy from a fire.
And along his travels, he collected trinkets. Most of which he kept locked away in his attic, hidden from the rest of the world. He says he wants to keep it that way. Some of the things he collected were said to be cursed. But we knew better.
As I looked down at my grandpa from the hospital bed, he lifted his frail hand and grabbed mine. He asked me and my brother to go to his house and grab a picture from his attic. He said it was small and in a round picture frame with gold trim. I asked who was in the picture and he explained it was of his wife, our grandmother, when she was younger. I thought it was sweet for him to have that picture of her next to him, so my brother and I agreed.
My brother and I had been looking after my grandfather in the hospital for a while. He was such a great person. He got the chance to travel the world and collect relics to share with the rest of my family. He told us about how he survived alone in the woods for a week with just the clothes on his back. He shared about how he met a wonderful lady in South Africa that he kept in contact with ever since. He even told us about how he helped save a small town in Italy from a fire.
And along his travels, he collected trinkets. Most of which he kept locked away in his attic, hidden from the rest of the world. He says he wants to keep it that way. Some of the things he collected were said to be cursed. But we knew better.
As I looked down at my grandpa from the hospital bed, he lifted his frail hand and grabbed mine. He asked me and my brother to go to his house and grab a picture from his attic. He said it was small and in a round picture frame with gold trim. I asked who was in the picture and he explained it was of his wife, our grandmother, when she was younger. I thought it was sweet for him to have that picture of her next to him, so my brother and I agreed.
***
It was nightfall before we got to the house. It was an old two-story house that seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere. It was in the middle of a grassy clearing with dense woods in the distance, almost forming a wide circle around the house. As we pulled up, I could hear a rumble of thunder in the distance. Was it about to start storming?
We stepped into the house and flicked the lights on. It smelled musty with a mix of spices and cold air. This house hadn't had anyone in it for a while, so it made sense for why it felt so lifeless. The living room had red carpet and a rocking chair in the middle of the room, facing the old box TV in the corner. I wonder what kinds of shows he would watch.
There were a few newspapers piled up next to the chair on a small table beside the chair. The light was too dim to make out any text on the page.
As we trudged through the house, it felt unfamiliar and yet kind of cozy. It was like getting a hug from a family member you hadn't seen since you were a baby.
Finally, we made it upstairs, where we found the long staircase to the attic.
"Ladies first," my brother joked, gesturing me to toward the door. I rolled my eyes with a slight smile and made my way up.
As I opened the door, I was hit was a waft of dust and mildew. It was like this door hadn't been opened in years. The room was dark, except for the windows on either side of the room, where the lightning from outside would briefly give us some light.
I quickly spotted a pull string light dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room. I pulled it and the lights clicked on. The bulb was dim but it was enough for us to be able to see the boxes and shelves around us.
The attic was more bare than I would have expected. There were maybe five or so boxes strewn about the floor. Against the far wall there were some display shelves. One of them looked like a fancy white bookshelf with gold trim that was carved into a couple of fancy designs. On this shelf sat some creepy porcelain dolls. They were small and propped to be sitting down. Their faces were white with different intricate designs that made me feel a sense of unease from just looking at them for too long.
"These things are creepy," I muttered under my breath.
The shelf beside it was a deep brown with glass over it to encase the small trinkets inside that I could barely make out. I think there might have been a knife in there or something. It was too dark in here to tell. The objects inside just looked like dark blobs.
My brother had to draw my attention away from the shelves so I'd help him find what we came here for. The picture of our grandmother.
He knelt in front of a box, sifting through a few things. It looked to mainly be clothes with a few hats and papers inside. The box before me looked to have some brass trinkets and cups. I was able to see the bottom of the box pretty easily and could tell that the picture wasn't in there.
He and I grabbed the next box as another rumble of thunder rolled by. Just as I opened my box, I heard the sound of glass breaking behind me. I turned to see what had happened, nearly jumping out of my skin at the sudden jarring sound. To my surprise, one of the porcelain dolls was in pieces on the floor in front of the shelf. I tried to pick the pieces up, but my brother urged me to leave it.
I didn't get why he was in such a rush to find the picture and get out. Maybe this place freaked him out to be in? Maybe it was the storm rolling in. Either way, I listened to him and got back to my box.
As we sifted through, there was another sound behind us. It was hard to make out because it happened the same time of the booming thunder, but we turned around to find that another doll had broken. Okay, something was up.
I got up and headed toward the shelf. Something up there was knocking them over. But what?
"Maybe it's the storm," he said. "I mean, that thunder is hitting pretty hard right now. Plus, this house is old. It's not structured as securely as it once was."
He was probably right. I mean, what else could it be?
We got back to sifting through the boxes until eventually, my brother pulled the picture out of his box. It was just as our grandfather described, a golden picture frame with a beautiful young woman with dark hair inside.
We closed up the boxes we'd opened and I grabbed a broom and dustpan from the kitchen to clean up the broken dolls. But as I climbed back up the attic stairs, the entire shelf collapsed with a loud crash. I frantically ran up the rest of the stairs, my brother close behind. We were both freaked out. Something was in the house with us. And it wasn't happy that we were here.
I dropped the broom and we both ran out the door. We weren't about to mess with whatever messed up spirits or whatever might be in that house.
We stepped into the house and flicked the lights on. It smelled musty with a mix of spices and cold air. This house hadn't had anyone in it for a while, so it made sense for why it felt so lifeless. The living room had red carpet and a rocking chair in the middle of the room, facing the old box TV in the corner. I wonder what kinds of shows he would watch.
There were a few newspapers piled up next to the chair on a small table beside the chair. The light was too dim to make out any text on the page.
As we trudged through the house, it felt unfamiliar and yet kind of cozy. It was like getting a hug from a family member you hadn't seen since you were a baby.
Finally, we made it upstairs, where we found the long staircase to the attic.
"Ladies first," my brother joked, gesturing me to toward the door. I rolled my eyes with a slight smile and made my way up.
As I opened the door, I was hit was a waft of dust and mildew. It was like this door hadn't been opened in years. The room was dark, except for the windows on either side of the room, where the lightning from outside would briefly give us some light.
I quickly spotted a pull string light dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room. I pulled it and the lights clicked on. The bulb was dim but it was enough for us to be able to see the boxes and shelves around us.
The attic was more bare than I would have expected. There were maybe five or so boxes strewn about the floor. Against the far wall there were some display shelves. One of them looked like a fancy white bookshelf with gold trim that was carved into a couple of fancy designs. On this shelf sat some creepy porcelain dolls. They were small and propped to be sitting down. Their faces were white with different intricate designs that made me feel a sense of unease from just looking at them for too long.
"These things are creepy," I muttered under my breath.
The shelf beside it was a deep brown with glass over it to encase the small trinkets inside that I could barely make out. I think there might have been a knife in there or something. It was too dark in here to tell. The objects inside just looked like dark blobs.
My brother had to draw my attention away from the shelves so I'd help him find what we came here for. The picture of our grandmother.
He knelt in front of a box, sifting through a few things. It looked to mainly be clothes with a few hats and papers inside. The box before me looked to have some brass trinkets and cups. I was able to see the bottom of the box pretty easily and could tell that the picture wasn't in there.
He and I grabbed the next box as another rumble of thunder rolled by. Just as I opened my box, I heard the sound of glass breaking behind me. I turned to see what had happened, nearly jumping out of my skin at the sudden jarring sound. To my surprise, one of the porcelain dolls was in pieces on the floor in front of the shelf. I tried to pick the pieces up, but my brother urged me to leave it.
I didn't get why he was in such a rush to find the picture and get out. Maybe this place freaked him out to be in? Maybe it was the storm rolling in. Either way, I listened to him and got back to my box.
As we sifted through, there was another sound behind us. It was hard to make out because it happened the same time of the booming thunder, but we turned around to find that another doll had broken. Okay, something was up.
I got up and headed toward the shelf. Something up there was knocking them over. But what?
"Maybe it's the storm," he said. "I mean, that thunder is hitting pretty hard right now. Plus, this house is old. It's not structured as securely as it once was."
He was probably right. I mean, what else could it be?
We got back to sifting through the boxes until eventually, my brother pulled the picture out of his box. It was just as our grandfather described, a golden picture frame with a beautiful young woman with dark hair inside.
We closed up the boxes we'd opened and I grabbed a broom and dustpan from the kitchen to clean up the broken dolls. But as I climbed back up the attic stairs, the entire shelf collapsed with a loud crash. I frantically ran up the rest of the stairs, my brother close behind. We were both freaked out. Something was in the house with us. And it wasn't happy that we were here.
I dropped the broom and we both ran out the door. We weren't about to mess with whatever messed up spirits or whatever might be in that house.
***
As we got back to the hospital, our grandpa was delighted to see the picture we'd brought back with us. We didn't want to tell him about the dolls. We were afraid it might be too much for him to know that all those dolls in his attic were smashed.
But as my brother and my grandpa were trying to find a place for the picture, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. There was something moving around inside of my brother's bag. Something must have followed us out of that house...
But as my brother and my grandpa were trying to find a place for the picture, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. There was something moving around inside of my brother's bag. Something must have followed us out of that house...
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