creepypasta origins

My Grandma Lived Under The House

Before you read these moments from my life, I'd like to apologize for the language, but I'm trying to recall it from the exact detail.

During the months of June, July, and August, I spent many hot summers of my childhood at my Grandmother's house further west on the island of Cape Breton. The forest was plentiful, the plains were a vibrant green, and my Grandmother's house was a rickety old two-story that was built sometime in the 50's and looked like it didn't belong.

Despite its shortcomings, my childhood summers spent here were some of the best I ever had. There were no other children to play with for the next few miles towards town, but I made my own fun running through fields of grass and smelling flowers in my Grandma's garden. I can still recall the smell of my Nanna's butterscotch muffins wafting through an open window, sweet and heavenly and beckoning me inside. I can still remember the sound of cicadas and a warm breeze brushing my skin. I can still remember my Grandma's face watching me from underneath the porch step, smiling with all her teeth and calling me to come inside.

There were a lot of rules at my Grandma's house, like no running inside the house with my shoes on and not playing in the garden. Some of them didn't make sense to me, like locking the windows and doors before bed even though we lived miles from society. Turning off the television at 8 and being in bed by 9 was the worst on a night with no school. There were even unspoken rules, ones that I didn't ask my Grandma about, things like not sleeping with our arms and legs off the bed. Things like checking the windows and doors twice. Things like not pulling the shower curtain closed all the way, or hiding under beds and in closets, or pulling the chord to the attic off the nail it was wrapped around.

Though some things were odd, my Grandma was a very well liked woman. She was lithe and her hair was long, shining a bright silver that looked like it reflected the moonlight. While she usually kept her hair up in a tight bun, making the frown lines on her face prominent, when her hair was down she could have been called beautiful. When my Grandpa was alive, he would call her a "silver fox", as once she was young and beautiful and quick tempered, but she was the only one that could say something witty and clever to one of my Grandpa's quips. Age made her soften herself, her children made her emotional, my Grandpa passing away made her sad and distant, but never once did I question her love for me.

Grandpa spent a lot of time out west so his visits home were rare, but wonderful. My Grandma used to say she liked having me around when he was gone during the summertime because it made her feel useful. I guess now that I look back on it, my Nanna was lonely.

I will try to detail the events that happened chronologically, but I was little and I blacked out a lot of my childhood here, with good reason. My Grandma lived under the house.

I never saw her go to bed once. I never thought too much about it as I was a big kid that could sleep in a bed alone, with my covers tucked around me and my fingers and toes tucked safely away from the edge of the bed. There were quite a few times, though, that she would visit me from the window, standing in her garden bed to whisper things to me from behind the glass.

My Grandma's face was pressed up against the window pane, smiling with all of her teeth, her hands cupped around her face to see inside a little better. I never questioned it, why would I? I was just a kid with a silly Grandma. There was nothing else to it.

"Sweetie, can you open the door for me? I'm a little chilly out here." She told me once, her lips moving just slightly to sound out the words she spoke from behind the glass. The window was up high enough that I would see just above her collarbone, but I could see that she wasn't wearing anything.

I laughed a childish laugh, and I responded with something like "that's silly Grandma! You have a key to get inside! Come in before you get cold!"

My Grandma wouldn't respond after this, but her smile would never waver, for not even a second. She was still standing in what would've been my Nanna's garden, one of the things my Grandma wouldn't let me do.