There’s Something Sinister In My Grandma’s Old House And Nobody Knows About It But Me

She came.

The only light in the room beamed upon my face from the computer perched on my stomach. The screen broadcast a short film which gave me a deep feeling of shame in my gut knowing this was all taking place in my mom’s childhood bedroom. But hell, I was an 18-year-old boy, what do you expect me to do?

I was right in the middle of things when the blanket flew off of my body, leaving me completely exposed in the night. I threw my laptop to the floor without caution and jumped up in the bed to see the blanket lying crumpled on the floor in the blue light of the computer screen.

Was there a gust of wind? No. All the windows were closed. The coastal sea air made it chilly on the October nights. There was no way that blanket could have flown off me the way it did unless it was pulled off by someone else.
I laid there, panicked and panting with my eyes glued to the laptop, coated in embarrassed sweat.

The dark and the adrenaline of shock and blush clouded my vision, but I could see a presence approach me from the foot of the bed. Sleek, slender and soft, I saw the hazy outline of a red-haired woman crawling up the bed at me. She slipped up my legs until she was rested her soft weight upon my wilted lap.

From a closer vantage, I could see the woman’s face though it was still cloudy, as if she wasn’t fully there. I closed my eyes tight as she pushed her face to my mine and kissed me softly upon the lips.

I opened my eyes once I felt her’s push away from me. I saw the woman sitting on the end of the bed, her back facing me, shuddering with muffled sobs.

I pushed myself up against the headboard as much as I could and closed my eyes again.

CLICK TO THE NEXT PAGE…

Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website.

Keep up with Jack on Twitter and Website

More From Thought Catalog