0 reactions
There is a body in my grandpa's old house
How do I tell you the truth without it sounding like a lie? I have been pondering this question for the past hour at least before posting this. Racking my brain on this problem that landed right in my lap. It isn't even my fault or, I hope, my grandpa. I think it was here way before him. It would be the only logical explanation. Let me just start from the beginning.
My grandpa had just recently passed a couple weeks ago. His will stated that everything gets pawned cause “no one would understand the value”. Which I don't blame him with how the family goes. He left all of that busy work to me. Get it out of his house, find the pawn shop ect. I had no problem with that at all. It gave me one more look around the house before it was gone.
The place was ancient, probably built around the prohibition era. My gramps kept this place in as good of condition as he could. Fixing holes, rain damages, caved in ceiling, the whole nine yards, hell I helped sometimes. Safe to say it may look old but mostly everything is new.
His house had a clutter of items, children's toys, pots and pans, as well other things that I didn't need to know about him. I actually recognized some of the stuff like my favorite childhood toy rocky, the one eyed elephant. It was kinda sweet but sad I wasn't able to reminisce with him about it. I hope he wouldn't be too mad that I kept one thing. Besides who would know out of the hundreds of things in this house that one wasn't sold.
Everything was going pretty smoothly, maybe one or two items a little too heavy but nothing a dolly couldn't help with. I was probably a quarter or more a way through having his bedroom cleared out when I heard a voice call out.
“Mister?” When I look back an elderly old woman was behind me. “Can I ask what you're doing young man?” She said with a sternness that felt like an accusation.
“I'm just taking all of his stuff out. He wanted it all pawned so it's the least I could do for him.” I said with a half grin to try and ease the tension.
“That don't sound like Henderson. He was more stubborn than a mule. Begged him to sell half of the crap a while ago including that dog.” She said waving her hand back to the house. I was more puzzled by the belief of a dog. Anytime I was over the only dog would be mine if I brought him.
“I can agree my gramps was stubborn but didn't own a dog. The closest he ever got to was a homeless dog a couple years back.” Her eyebrow raised
“You Grayson then?”
“I hope there isn't another or it would make things complicated.” She took a sigh of relief at this revelation.
“I apologize son, just that man gets on my nerves. Always something with him. My name's Beckett.” Reaching her hand out to shake mine.
“Nice to meet you Miss Beckett.” Meeting her shake half way. “This rather will come as a blessing or curse mama. You don't have to worry about that anymore. He went to a better place.” A look of sadness reaching her eyes and a hand covering her mouth
“Oh, how long?”
“Couple weeks back, natural cause. They say he passed peacefully but that man never had peace.”
“God, how your family handling it?” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Wish I could say they cared but I'm the only one here.” I quickly wrapped up. “But going back to the dog. I hadn't seen one let alone known of one?”
Her hand raising up and pointing to the back yard. “Yeah he had one pretty loud every night. Didn't really bark tho, heard more of it moaning and groaning. It ate loud as well but every animal does that.” She looked a little uncomfortable. “I think he hit the poor thing. I would hear shouting and thudding up. I hope it is alive.”
I couldn't really believe my gramps would beat an animal but it had been a while. “Well thank you I will have to check. Hopefully nothing is dead back there.”
She nodded and moved along with her day. I was left with the knowledge, or fear, that there might have been something dead in the back. When I had finally built up the courage I looked in the backyard.
It was pretty plain, just grass and a tree. A wooden fence guarding all that was beyond the walls. I walked around for a minute for any sign of an animal. Prints, smells, hell even shit but not a damn thing. Some of the grass near the house was a little raised compared to the rest. Might have been where the poor thing was buried. It was not on my agenda at the moment to be raising dead. So, I went back to packing, Hauling, and pawning anything I found that wasn't nailed to the ground.
It was getting dark around the time I was half way done with his house when I smelt it. Something sweet but bitter. I wish to say I didn't know what the smell was but I would be lying. Most likely the body, for whatever reason, was releasing them. I don't know how I didn't notice it earlier. With how heavy it was I could swear it was standing right in front of me.
That was about the time my curiosity won. I hadn't planned on disturbing it, just at least see what it was. Every step closer to that backyard just made it more intense. I felt like I was fighting the air for anything but that smell. By the time I hit the door I swore I was in the poor things body. Cracking open the door, what I was met with was worse than a smell.
A faint moan of pain and begging. Whatever was buried wasn't any animal. I could make out remnants of words but to garbled by the ground above them. I had begun to rush looking for something to dig up whoever was beneath. Finally landing on the shovel in the back of the U-haul truck. Pressing my shovel to the ground I began to dig. With every splotch of dirt the voice becoming clearer.
“Help me” I heard faintly. I hadn't a single thought of how to respond, just had to keep digging. I had at this point dug about five feet still with no signs of a body. I had begun to question if I was going insane. I could still hear the voice more words being said.
“He found me!!!! Help!!! Kill me!!!”
“If you can hear me, I'm trying. Alright, you will be out of here soon.” I hit six feet, still nothing. The voice was still mumbling the same things over and over and over again but I couldn't find any sign. After a while it stopped like he died or something but it stopped. I had exhausted myself beyond belief digging for him. I couldn't keep going, I had to stop or I would kill myself looking for him. I would call the police first thing in the morning reporting on what I found.
When I climbed out there sat a note. It looked like my grandpa's writing. It wasn't unusual for that, he had writing everywhere. It was how fresh it was. The ink hadn't even dried as if he wrote it as I was digging the hole. As well it's not something you would want to read.
Keep him quiet.
Keep him fed.
Keep him buried
#entertainment
source
How do I tell you the truth without it sounding like a lie? I have been pondering this question for the past hour at least before posting this. Racking my brain on this problem that landed right in my lap. It isn't even my fault or, I hope, my grandpa. I think it was here way before him. It would be the only logical explanation. Let me just start from the beginning.
My grandpa had just recently passed a couple weeks ago. His will stated that everything gets pawned cause “no one would understand the value”. Which I don't blame him with how the family goes. He left all of that busy work to me. Get it out of his house, find the pawn shop ect. I had no problem with that at all. It gave me one more look around the house before it was gone.
The place was ancient, probably built around the prohibition era. My gramps kept this place in as good of condition as he could. Fixing holes, rain damages, caved in ceiling, the whole nine yards, hell I helped sometimes. Safe to say it may look old but mostly everything is new.
His house had a clutter of items, children's toys, pots and pans, as well other things that I didn't need to know about him. I actually recognized some of the stuff like my favorite childhood toy rocky, the one eyed elephant. It was kinda sweet but sad I wasn't able to reminisce with him about it. I hope he wouldn't be too mad that I kept one thing. Besides who would know out of the hundreds of things in this house that one wasn't sold.
Everything was going pretty smoothly, maybe one or two items a little too heavy but nothing a dolly couldn't help with. I was probably a quarter or more a way through having his bedroom cleared out when I heard a voice call out.
“Mister?” When I look back an elderly old woman was behind me. “Can I ask what you're doing young man?” She said with a sternness that felt like an accusation.
“I'm just taking all of his stuff out. He wanted it all pawned so it's the least I could do for him.” I said with a half grin to try and ease the tension.
“That don't sound like Henderson. He was more stubborn than a mule. Begged him to sell half of the crap a while ago including that dog.” She said waving her hand back to the house. I was more puzzled by the belief of a dog. Anytime I was over the only dog would be mine if I brought him.
“I can agree my gramps was stubborn but didn't own a dog. The closest he ever got to was a homeless dog a couple years back.” Her eyebrow raised
“You Grayson then?”
“I hope there isn't another or it would make things complicated.” She took a sigh of relief at this revelation.
“I apologize son, just that man gets on my nerves. Always something with him. My name's Beckett.” Reaching her hand out to shake mine.
“Nice to meet you Miss Beckett.” Meeting her shake half way. “This rather will come as a blessing or curse mama. You don't have to worry about that anymore. He went to a better place.” A look of sadness reaching her eyes and a hand covering her mouth
“Oh, how long?”
“Couple weeks back, natural cause. They say he passed peacefully but that man never had peace.”
“God, how your family handling it?” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Wish I could say they cared but I'm the only one here.” I quickly wrapped up. “But going back to the dog. I hadn't seen one let alone known of one?”
Her hand raising up and pointing to the back yard. “Yeah he had one pretty loud every night. Didn't really bark tho, heard more of it moaning and groaning. It ate loud as well but every animal does that.” She looked a little uncomfortable. “I think he hit the poor thing. I would hear shouting and thudding up. I hope it is alive.”
I couldn't really believe my gramps would beat an animal but it had been a while. “Well thank you I will have to check. Hopefully nothing is dead back there.”
She nodded and moved along with her day. I was left with the knowledge, or fear, that there might have been something dead in the back. When I had finally built up the courage I looked in the backyard.
It was pretty plain, just grass and a tree. A wooden fence guarding all that was beyond the walls. I walked around for a minute for any sign of an animal. Prints, smells, hell even shit but not a damn thing. Some of the grass near the house was a little raised compared to the rest. Might have been where the poor thing was buried. It was not on my agenda at the moment to be raising dead. So, I went back to packing, Hauling, and pawning anything I found that wasn't nailed to the ground.
It was getting dark around the time I was half way done with his house when I smelt it. Something sweet but bitter. I wish to say I didn't know what the smell was but I would be lying. Most likely the body, for whatever reason, was releasing them. I don't know how I didn't notice it earlier. With how heavy it was I could swear it was standing right in front of me.
That was about the time my curiosity won. I hadn't planned on disturbing it, just at least see what it was. Every step closer to that backyard just made it more intense. I felt like I was fighting the air for anything but that smell. By the time I hit the door I swore I was in the poor things body. Cracking open the door, what I was met with was worse than a smell.
A faint moan of pain and begging. Whatever was buried wasn't any animal. I could make out remnants of words but to garbled by the ground above them. I had begun to rush looking for something to dig up whoever was beneath. Finally landing on the shovel in the back of the U-haul truck. Pressing my shovel to the ground I began to dig. With every splotch of dirt the voice becoming clearer.
“Help me” I heard faintly. I hadn't a single thought of how to respond, just had to keep digging. I had at this point dug about five feet still with no signs of a body. I had begun to question if I was going insane. I could still hear the voice more words being said.
“He found me!!!! Help!!! Kill me!!!”
“If you can hear me, I'm trying. Alright, you will be out of here soon.” I hit six feet, still nothing. The voice was still mumbling the same things over and over and over again but I couldn't find any sign. After a while it stopped like he died or something but it stopped. I had exhausted myself beyond belief digging for him. I couldn't keep going, I had to stop or I would kill myself looking for him. I would call the police first thing in the morning reporting on what I found.
When I climbed out there sat a note. It looked like my grandpa's writing. It wasn't unusual for that, he had writing everywhere. It was how fresh it was. The ink hadn't even dried as if he wrote it as I was digging the hole. As well it's not something you would want to read.
Keep him quiet.
Keep him fed.
Keep him buried
#entertainment
source
| 1,000 mlx | |
| 1 | |
| 0 |