That Night at Grandpa's (And Other Scary Stories)

Stranger than He

Not accustomed to noises in our house, I snapped awake, with no sleep in my eyes. Strange. Even stranger was the shadow that disappeared down the hallway. Could it be my older sister sleepwalking? I smiled at the thought of catching her on camera and playing the whole scene back at the breakfast table.

My imagination got the best of me, so I went to get the camera off the landing by the stairwell in hopes of seeing "little miss perfect" spraying cheese in her mouth, spilling a drink of milk down her neck, or chocolate down the glass onto her foot.

However, it was not my sister.

I had my suspicions before I ever got to the landing. A man mumbled from the kitchen, then the living room. The front door opened. I leaned over the stairs as far as I could to get a look. I did not fall ... not totally. My hands slipped off the freshly polished wooden ball at the top of the rail and sort of curled down the first two steps. My feet hit the wall and my head hit the rail. I spun around in time to see it—a hand grabbing the door's edge to close it.

Should I change my clothes or just follow him? Call the police or call my parents?

I burst out of the front door to find him. The light across the street cast a triangular beam and the man disappeared through its rays. I ran after him. Is this a dream?

I stepped into the shadows where I had seen him disappear. He stood next to a picnic table. Is he waiting for me? He did something strange and walked right past me. I tried to say something after him, but no thoughts would form into words. I squinted to see where he went. His shadowy retreat quickened my pace to try to catch him. However, my initial curiosity gave way to another feeling— fatigue. If the stranger did not emerge when I passed through the light, I was going back to bed.

If I could get back in.

The front door did have a way of locking on its own. From under the tree in my yard, I relinquished myself to a 360 look, but he was gone. I could see the kitchen nightlight glowing through the small gap in the door.

It was raining the next morning and I had awakened quite late. Why did Mother not call me for breakfast? Perhaps she knew of my late night and allowed me to sleep in. I rolled over hugging my pillow, content with not having to ask her for "five more minutes" ... not her ... or anyone ... I do not hear anything. Those five minutes would have to wait another morning.

It was not morning, but early afternoon. Sheesh, did I ever sleep in! Wait ... what? I turned to look at my digital clock straight up this time. What I thought was 2:26 was really 9:55 PM! I slept for like, well, a very long time!

I sprang from my bed still wearing the clothes from the night before and noticed how dark it was out my bedroom window. What is going on? I walked in circles puzzled and came to a dead stop when I heard it—mumbling. I looked out the bedroom door and down the stairs and saw it again— a hand closing the front door. This time the mumbling man will not get away! I bounded down the stairs and barreled into the yard. Instead of finding him, I stood dumbfounded at the sight before me.

There was the same pole light beaming on parked cars in the street, the same yard and tree with its branches hanging to obscure the neighbor's sidewalk, and the same man walking away from me on the other side of the street.

There was one noticeable difference--he was not alone. Scads of people walked in the night. Those across the street lumbered toward me while others lolloped the opposite way. Everyone wore black and white clothes. It was so surreal and puzzling. Did I just wonder into the middle of them shooting an Amish movie scene or something?

No cameras, no director, and no actors I recognized. I did notice something. No one seemed to notice me as I jogged after the man. The people paid no attention to me. Where were they going? What is going on?

I spun around and walked toward that picnic table to find him, and there he was, standing in the same spot in the exact same way as the night before. Was he acting out some sort of script?

Huh!?

He just walked right past me like I was not even ...

Wait a minute!

Each gray-faced golem-like person walked right past me. So much for thinking I was a pretty good-looking kid. How rude! I had to get mom, or dad or even my sister. What was happening in our front yard of all places?

I ran past the For Sale sign toward my house. The same gap in the doorway, the same kitchen nightlight peeking out of it, and my tiredness arrived. As hard as I tried to run up those stairs to my parent's bedroom I never made it. Those stairs took every ounce of strength I had. Am I sick? Do I have pneumonia? Could this be why I have slept so much? Could this ... be ... why ... I ...?

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of beeping. I was wearing the same clothes as last night ... again! I should really put on some deodorant! I had fallen asleep on the floor. I lifted myself up with full intentions of getting one of my favorite things—a pounding hot shower! My smile was short-lived. As I lifted myself off the carpet, I saw it--a hand pulling the front door closed.

Instead of feeling brave enough to follow, I totally creeped out. This is too much!

I ran instead to my parent's room.

It was empty.

Completely empty! Nothing there, in my sister's room, the spare bedroom, the den, or the bathroom. Except there was still a shower. I was no longer interested in that anymore. Who is going to care if I stink? I needed somebody ... anybody!

I made my way to the kitchen something under the nightlight caught my eye for the first time. A newspaper with the headline that read:

Father & Son Killed in Car Crash.