That Old House
When I was little, I used to love to visit my Grandmothers house in southern Texas. It was big and spooky and I would pretend that it was haunted. My grandmother had only had one child, my mom, because my grandfather had disappeared when she was still pregnant. For some reason, my mom and her mom didn't get along. In fact, my mom would often send me down to see her and she would stay home.
Well on this occasion, my mom had stayed home, so I was all alone in this rundown old house. My grandmother was famous for having violent arguments with herself, but I still loved to hear her stories. One night, I was listening to a story about my grandpa, when one of her fits came over her. Her entire body was shaking and a booming voice that sounded nothing like her was screaming "BEG FORGIVNANCE!"
All at once, she collapsed, her mouth moving in silent screams. Her hand was all clawed up, like she was having a stroke, and I didn't know what to do. We had no phone, and the nearest house was miles, so I just screamed. Finally, my grandma motioned for me to come over.
In the tiniest of whispers, I heard her say "Leave, you are me. Don't
let him know. Leave. He won't find you. You will know when."
I cried, but I was also very puzzled about what she had said. I ran out the door and kept running for almost an hour. I reached her neighbors house and collapsed. When I came to, I told them everything that had happened. They were all shocked by her message and had no idea what she meant.
On my 16th birthday, my mom gave me a present that had been left from my grandma.
"I have no idea what it could be," she said,” It must be something important though."
When I opened the package, I found an old journal. I opened it up to find a very old picture. When I blew the dust off, the woman looked exactly like me! The caption read:
"Marie Connors and David Brooks at age 16"
Those were the names of my grandparents. "This must have been when they met," I thought. As I read the diary, I
discovered I was right. Most of the pages were all about my grandparents dating, right down to when they were married.
After they were married, the pages began to get scary. Apparently, my grandfather had been an abusive husband. Also, it seemed that when my grandmother had become pregnant, it got worse. She didn't want to have his baby! He told her that if she tried for a divorce, he would kill her.
The pages become harder and harder to read, until on the last page I saw my grandmothers frantic scrawl, "I have done it. Killed him. He was beating me again and I landed near the fire prongs. I hadn't meant to do it, but he left me no choice. To whomever is reading this, forgive me." That was all.
I threw the book into the fire, shaking. As it burned, it gave off an eerie hiss. While I watched it, a strange sensation came over me. It was as if I could feel someone breathing down the back of my neck. I whirled around, but there was no one there.
After my mom died, I inherited that old house. After a couple years, I got a letter asking if I would give consent to let them build a highway through where the house stood. I hurriedly wrote them back, telling them it was completely fine. Every now and then I hear about freak accidents happening on that little section of highway, and I partly feel responsible. All I know is that I my self will never drive on it.