The portrait we had of him in the living room fell off its hook. Picture frames containing pictures of him flipped onto their front during the night. I didn’t mind though because I thought my grandma was making it up.
Before I moved in, my family got a big dumpster so we could clean some of the clutter out of the house. Since we’d spend most of the day cleaning and it was summer, we’d bring the family dog with us. My grandpa loved our dog dearly. But since he passed, my dog wouldn’t go down to the basement anymore, where my grandpa spent most of his time in his office. She refused to go into the basement at all, and barked at the stairway a few times.
This was weird, since our dog almost never barked. It finally made me think “he’s here”. I moved in shortly after. While I lived there, things went missing all the time. I had bought a new lockset to change the backdoor lock, brought it home and put it in the cupboard to tackle on the weekend. Few days later I go to change the lock, and it’s gone. After a week of looking around I finally found it in the trunk of my uncle’s old BMW 2002 which he stored in the garage (I happened to be looking at the car). My grandpa was always a prankster, so I almost came to expect these occurrences.
He used to wake up at 530 every morning to listen to the early news on the radio in the kitchen. I’d wake up some mornings and the radio would be on. I often heard typewriter noises coming from his office in the basement. It became comforting. I found myself talking to my grandpa out loud. Having conversations with him. I missed him. After about 6 months, suddenly I wasn’t hearing any noises anymore. Nothing was going missing. The radio wasn’t turning on at 530.
I shrugged it off for a few days, but it started to worry me. I went back to my parents and grabbed the dog, brought her back. She was apprehensive at first, but she entered the house. There was an issue though. Every time she’d been over since my grandpa died, as I mentioned earlier, she refused to go downstairs. This time though, she went downstairs, and went right to his office. Nothing was any different about the office, but she wasn’t barking. She wasn’t pacing. She wasn’t doing anything.
That was when I realized he was gone. I broke down. Suddenly I felt incredibly alone. Even though it’d been about 8 months since he died, it was the first time I felt like he was gone.
Alright, bear with me on this one. As a teen, I used to sneak out of the house a lot with some friends of mine. One of our friends lived a few miles away from the rest of us, so we’d have to go on a bit of a hike to go retrieve him. The shortest way to get to his house was to cut through the local farm’s property in order to get to his neighborhood.
We did this rather frequently, and would often meet up on a cluster of rocks at the edge of the property that was overlooking their field of corn. One night, after our typical mischief had concluded, I went with everyone to walk them home – finally, it was just me and the friend that lived far off. We walked through the cornfield as usual, and nothing was amiss. It was only up to about waist-thigh on a thirteen year old at that point in the year, so it was pretty obvious that the field was abandoned.
Anyhow, we reached the far side, and sat down on the cluster of rocks to talk for a bit. Typical teenage crap – girls we liked, what our plans for out futures were. While I’m talking to him, I notice my friend’s face slowly go pale, and I give him a questioning look, and he grabs my shoulder and points out into the cornfield.
Scattered in different spots all over the cornfield we’d just walked through not five minutes before are five indistinct, shadowy figures, drastically taller than the corn. They were about six feet tall, and they weren’t moving.
It would be easy to brush them off as just being tricks of the light or scarecrows, or something else logical – except that we had literally just walked through that field, and there had been nothing there.
We were both stricken with terror, afraid to even move as we stared at them, but they never moved an inch, never came toward us, never moved away. They were too spread out to be a group of looming teens. What finally startled us into action was the farm dog starting to go absolutely ballistic inside the house, barking his head off and going crazy. We weren’t anywhere near the dog’s line of sight.
We ran like hell. When we stopped for breath, I looked up. The entire sky was clouded over except for one little gap in the clouds that only the moon was shining through.
It was the most surreal and terrifying experience of my life, and I can’t explain it to this day.