Mole

Meet Mole

"Trust Grammy to live here," mum chuckled as we pulled up to the old cabin.

I couldn't believe I would spend the next month living here while my mum and dad went away on a second honeymoon. They would no doubt love spending time together on a beach in Italy.

I, however, was in bat-stinking-hell.

Grammy's house was falling apart - the wooden panels rotting and falling from the main body of the house, a clump of ivy clinging to the side and windows which were more cracks than glass. Classy.

In fact, it perfectly fit the description of 'cabin in the woods'.

"I know, right? A creepy lodge for a creepy lady," I muttered.

Grammy was what you'd call.... Scary. Odd. Peculiar.

Witch-like.

Mum just chuckled at my distaste for her mother. She knew just as well as I did that Grammy belonged in an asylum - not at large, where she could do stuff like terrorise the ladies at knitters anonymous.

"Nevertheless, I expect you to be on your best behaviour; she didn't have to look after you for us," she scolded then got out of the car.

I shrugged, then followed. As I got out, I noticed even the ground was creepy here, sucking and clinging to the bottom of my shoe. I felt if I stood in one place for too long, I'd sink into the ground.

Mum passed me my small suitcase then pulled me in for a tight hug. I suddenly really didn't want her to leave!
As she loosened her grip, I tried to remember everything about her - her floral perfume, the way her brown roots were showing through her dyed blond hair, her easy smile, the wrinkles adorning her brown eyes...

It was gonna be a long month.

"The time'll fly, sweetie," mum tried to reassure me as she got back into the car.

Like hell it will.

Mum blew me a kiss, then backed out of the drive and disappeared up the tiny twisting path we'd driven down earlier.

"Hello, dear."

I screamed at the sudden voice at swung my arm around to defend myself. Grammy just caught my arm in a vice-like grip, her fake red nails digging into my pale skin.

She frowned. "Is that any way to greet your grandmother? You're gonna have some regrets if you treat your elders with such disrespect. Hurry up, dear."

With that, she let go of my arm and toddled back to the cabin.

"Follow me." She muttered.

Grammy was a retired museum worker, who specialised in 'magical artefacts'. It was all rubbish really - this talisman summoned the dead, this mask preserved youth, this statue is of the God of eternal suffering....
She even let her obsession smother herself, and only wore dresses made of 'blessed' fabrics, coloured her hair dark so that death wouldn't think she was old, and had heavy rings made of silver, iron and garlic-infused stones on each finger.
Complete rubbish, yet Grammy believed it. Her belief was scattered around her house, filling every available space with protective herbs or lucky ornaments.

There even appeared to be one on the door of the room Grammy was fast-approaching.

She hastily gestured to the door, which looked surprisingly intact despite the rest of the house, the red paint still shiny and the ornament hanging on it (which consisted of a large glass eye surrounded by tiny wings) polished to a golden shine. On closer inspection, I noticed the door seemed to be made of a heavy-looking metal, and not wood... I didn't expect anything else from Grammy.