So this is a little paranormal story I had back when I was just 12 years old. During the summer of my seventh-grade year, I and my family decided to take a trip up to Alabama to visit my grandfathers’ estate. My grandfather had just recently passed away due to a massive heart attack. So, unsurprisingly, my family was very distraught. My mother was will executor so she was in charge of the estate and taking inventory of all my grandfathers’ belongings. As we pull up to the house I get an eerie feeling. To give a little perspective on the setting I will describe the house. The house is located in a whiter rash neighborhood filled with druggies and weirdos.
A couple years after the visit the house would be broken into and the copper from the writings in the house would be stolen. So that gives kind of an idea of the scumbags my grandfather had living around him. The house itself kind of looked like the house from the Amityville horror movie. It was two stories with a basement. It had three bedrooms and two baths on the top floor and one bedroom and one bath in the basement. It had wood floors and the ceiling was unpainted. The only place in the house where the ceilings were somewhat painted was in my grandparents’ bedroom. It had an “X” pattern In a sequence of patterns across the ceiling.
This bedroom was particularly big and had a bathroom in it. It is also the room my grandfather died in. My grandfather was 6’7 and 300 pounds so I had guessed it was what had attributed to his heart attack. The house’s exterior was made of wood and sat on ten acres of land, another 100 acres if you count the land that was leased. The land was littered with old rusty cars that my grandfather used to collect parts off of. The inside of the house was rustic and the furniture looked like it was bought from goodwill. It smelled musty, a smell I can’t really associate with too many other things. Just to be clear I’m not mocking the house.
My grandfather built the house with his bare hands so I had a lot of respect for it. He and my grandmother had spent the first three years building the house living in the basement. The basement smelled even worse than the upstairs. It smelled like old, dead air. The kind of smell you would smell at an abandoned house in the middle of the woods. It had a kitchen, a living area, and a bedroom. I liked to spend a lot of time down here snooping through the wide variety of items my grandfather had down here. From old radios to old police monitors, my grandfather had everything down here. On one particular day, my parents were outside taking inventory of the vast collection of mechanic parts and I was snooping around in the basement. As I was down there I started to hear noise above my head. It sounded like footsteps coming from my grandparents’ bedroom. I figured it was one of my parents in there to get something. I shrugged it off and continued with my snooping. The sounds never went away though. It sounded like a crescendo, starting out soft and gradually getting louder and then starting all over again. It sounded as if it were walking back and forth. I decided to go up and investigate the noise.
But, no one was up there. I was creeped out, to say the least so I joined my parents outside where I stayed for the rest of the day. Fast forward to night time and I was back in the house. I was forced to sleep in my grandparents’ bedroom despite my protest. Luckily, I was sharing the room and the bed with my grandmother, who happened to join my parents on the trip. My parents would sleep across the hall. I and my mom got in some sort of argument and I was forced to go to bed early. I was in this creepy bedroom alone while my grandmother was right outside the bedroom in the living room. She was watching tv. Despite the noise coming from the TV outside the bedroom, the bedroom was extremely quiet. It seemed to take on an aura of its own. The bed faces the door going out to the living room and the bathroom door sat on the right side of the bed. So, here I was in this creepy bedroom laying on my back in bed. As I was laying there I began thinking about the footsteps I had heard earlier in the day. Didn’t like it in that bedroom.
The air inside that room seemed suffocating. As I was laying in the bed I heard a noise inside the bathroom. I laid there motionless with my head turned towards the bathroom. My eyes were locked on that closed door. This bathroom wasn’t big at all. It was like the size of a storage closet. I will never forget the noise that was hearing from that bathroom. It sounded like a gargling sound. It sounded like a choking gargling sound. I really can’t explain how scared I was. I just laid there paralyzed with fear. Several seconds went by, although it felt like hours before the sounds quit. It fell silent again, even more, silent than before. I was still too scared to move. I wanted to scream out to my grandma but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. I rolled over on my side so I can permanently keep my eyes on that door. A few minutes went by before I started to notice something again. The door handle on the door was slowly moving from one side to the other. As if someone were trying to open it but couldn’t bring themselves to do so. I just stared in complete horror. My mouth was hanging wide open. The latch on the door went through the stop and the door began to creep open. It was an inward swinging wood frame door so it would be opening away from me.
As the door began to open all I could think was that I had to get out of there but I could never bring myself to do so. The door opened about halfway before it had stopped abruptly. It was dark in the room but the TV from the living room outside illuminated the room a little bit. I could see a dark shadow moving around in the bathroom. I couldn’t quite make out the shape of it. It looked eternally dark. Sort of like a black hole of darkness. All of a sudden a face popped out of that darkness. I was horrified. It was my deceased grandmother. Her head and face were showing but not her body. It was almost as if she were peeking out at me. I was even more weirded out by how close to the floor the head was. It was about an inch underneath the door jam. Her long, mullet like grey hair hung to the side and her thick seeing glasses just about covered her whole face. Words can’t even begin to describe how terrified I was.
I contemplated getting out of bed and running out of the room but the thought of my grandmother reaching out, grabbing my legs, and pulling me to my doom quickly pushed this thought out of my mind. So, I just laid there and stared at her. She stared back at me and then she began to smile. Oh God, that smile. That smile let me know one thing. That wasn’t my grandmother. I don’t know who or what that thing was but it wasn’t my grandmother. The smile had dry caked-on blood surrounding it. It was pure evil. The head began to move its way up. Past the door jam until it finally stopped at the top of the door, which had to be 7 feet high. It’s eyes never leaving mine. It began to creep its way from the side all the way to the middle of the doorway. Its dark body just about covering the whole door. I couldn’t stand it any longer.
I closed my eyes and screamed louder than I had ever screamed before. Over and over and over again. Finally, my dad burst through the doorway followed by my mother and grandmother. A wave of panic-filled their face as they flicked on the light and looked at my face. I was pale white and staring into space. They began questioning as to what was wrong but I said nothing. Eventually, they calmed me down enough where I could finally tell them what happened. They first looked at each other and then back at me. I could tell that they were skeptical but scared at the same time. My father went and checked out the bathroom. Of course, there was nothing in it. My mother finally moved me out of the room into a different bedroom on the other side of the house. I never heard anything else about this incident from my parents.
I’m not even sure if they believed me. All I know is that writing about this ten years later still gives me the creeps and sends chills down my spine. Probably because of one disturbing fact that I learned a couple of years from the incident when the house finally sold. My grandmother didn’t just die, she committed suicide in that very bedroom that I was staying in. A gunshot to the chest. I was very close to my grandmother so I know that she wouldn’t do anything to scare me like that. So whatever that thing was, I hope I never meet it again. After learning of my grandmothers’ suicide and that demon I met in her bedroom I eventually came to a revelation. I believe my grandfather had an unseen factor that contributed to his heart attack. That monster that I encountered in the bedroom is that culprit that had gone unnoticed and ultimately led to my grandfathers’ demise.
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