Everyone Thinks My Gran And Gram Died Of ‘Old Age’ But I Think Something Much Darker Was The Cause

Replacing the sweet den scene of Gram and Gran lookalikes was the exact scene which existed around me. Me by the Christmas tree. My step-dad passed out on the couch next to my mom. Even the liquid in the glass my mom held up in her frozen toast was accurately the shade of a milky mud puddle.

I reached up and shook the globe then waited patiently for the meager flurry of snow to set back down. When it did, all seemed right again. The familiar old scene was back. My mom let out a loud, crackling fart from the couch. It was time to go to bed.

Sleep came fast thanks to the swigs of Bailey’s I was able to sneak past my mom. Tucked in by the soft hug of coffee liqeur, I was dreaming within about 30 minutes of walking away from Gram and Gran’s shape-shifting snow globe.

That boozy sleep was not free though. Less than two hours after I first fell asleep, the tickle of my bladder forced me back awake. Snake shit.

Relieving my bladder meant I would have to get up out of my cozy, little, warm, sweet guest room and trek out by the living room where the nearest backroom was nestled down an adjacent hallway. The worst part was that section of the house was heated by just a fireplace which had been put out before we all retreated to our beds.

I readied by cell phone before I got to the door which led out to the living room and hallway with the bathroom. The light switch for the section of the old house was all the way into the living room. The blue light of my phone was going to have to serve as my lone beacon.


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