My Grandfather's Secret

It's quite difficult to put this into words. My whole world has been turned upside down these past few weeks, and I'm not sure of even my own name. Maybe I'm looking for a place to vent. Or perhaps I'm looking for a place to be believed. I know everything here is true, but I can't know what that means anymore.
When I was a kid, my mother would tell me stories of my grandfather. He had been an alcoholic since a very young age, working the fields and drinking his pay. He provided for his family, sure, but he also cheated on them and abused them for years. But even that hadn't been the worst, as far as my mom was concerned. The worst had been his obsession with the occult. He would spend hours reading books on demons, crystals, and black magic. These are all pretty common beliefs in the country I live in, so that didn't surprise me. I even remember him talking to me about that stuff when I was a kid, which my grandmother didn't much appreciate. While my grandfather saw the mystery and awe behind those legends and rituals, my grandmother was scared out of her senses by them.
There were stories of those rituals gone wrong. I remember laughing at those crazy tales (even though I believed in all that as a child. I'm cringing, too, I know,) about the neighbors seeing shadow figures moving around their old house when no one was home, things flying off the table on their own, and even an invisible force that tried to drag my grandfather out of the house once, like something wanted him to get out and stop what he was doing. Mom said that he never stopped, not even after that last event, until I was born. She said he forgot all about it. All his books and research, the ritual materials, ouija board and all, gone in a day, never to be seen again. Until he died.
I had been away from town for a couple of years. I came back when the company I worked for went under and lost my job. It was a hard hit having to come back to my parents house (we own land outside of the city, where my grandfather moved to before I was born, and where he and my parents built their houses,) but it was harder when my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer a couple of weeks later. I had a lot of time on my hands, being without a job, so I began to spend more time with him. It took months for the cancer to spread throughout his bones, filling his body with pain and tearing down his mind. In the end, he only howled and screamed. He knew he was going to die. And when.
I was in his house, helping my grandmother change his sheets, when he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. I looked over and saw his eyes. They were filled with clarity beyond what we had seen in weeks. He was aware, almost cured, and his grip tightened with every heavy breath he took. "If there is something you need to share with me, I need you to do it now," he said. I heard about this. People close to dying, feeling a sort of aura that warned them of their end. I didn't know what to say, usually being the reserved type, but I understood what he meant. I told him that I loved him, and that I knew he was scared. I said I'd be there for him, and that I was grateful for all the time we spent together towards the end. He continued to stare for a moment, and then I saw it in his look. Disappointment. As if he had been expecting me to provide an answer to a riddle and failed miserably to do so. He leaned back, the pain slowly taking hold of him again, closed his eyes and sighed. He said nothing. I left. He died later that night.
A few days later we were cleaning out his home. It had become a bit of a mess. Taking care of my grandfather had become too much of a chore to take care of everything else. We were relieved, in a sense, that he was gone, and going through his stuff made us feel less ****ty. At some point we were going through an old closet, filled to the top with junk and old clothes. There I found a fake wall, a few sets of wood that had been clearly removed and replaced a few times. It took some effort, and some tools, to get them out but I finally managed it. In there we found all of my grandfathers old esoteric crap. We found the books on angels and demons, different versions of the bible, all of them scribbled with notes I recognized as written by my grandfather. Some of them were frantic, others downright unintelligible. We also found necklaces and crystals, a few of which had designs or shapes I'd never seen before. There was also his old ouija board, which had been missing almost since I was born, and a small box I couldn't quite get open. My mom and I had a good chat about his old stories again. We took his stuff back to our house, and I sat down and read up on my grandfather's notes.
There wasn't much that caught my interest, save for the box. I spent a few hours on it, trying all the keys I could find in my grandfather's house until I found the right one. Inside there was only another necklace, this one clearly hand-made out of leather and rope, with a small, green crystal wrapped in wire at its center. It was a bit mesmerizing, and I was immediately fascinated with it. I almost didn't notice the piece of paper that was in the box with it. I took it, unfolded it, and saw my grandfather's name on it. It was a birth certificate. August the 8th, 1951. That was wrong. My grandfather had been born on June the 11th, 1953. I checked with the certificates we keep in a folder for all the family members. I asked my mom about it, and that's when she told me the story.
Turns out, my grandfather never knew who his father was. His mother (my great grandmother, who is surprisingly still alive,) used to work for a rich family in a different state. She fell in love with one of the sons, and became pregnant with my grandfather. When the family found out, they wanted to take him away from her (they wouldn't let the son marry the help, to keep that story short,) and she ran away to the town we live in. She met another man, no one knows who he is or if he still lives, and when my grandfather was born he gave him his name as if he were his own son. But my great grandmother didn't stay with him, and so my grandfather lived with a name that wasn't his own. I didn't understand how that all related to his obsession with the occult, or why he would have a fake certificate in a box with a crystal. Mom said that's all she knew. My great grandmother refused to talk about it, and would deny anything if anyone asked directly. But I decided maybe it was worth it to give it a try myself.
I called a friend, David, and asked him to come with me to visit my grandmother. She lived on the opposite side of town, in an old house in the outskirts. It was a long trip, and it had been so long I kind of wanted to have someone with me I could use as an excuse to leave as soon as I wanted to. I wanted answers more than I wanted a social interaction, and I had never been very close to my great grandmother. I wasn't sure she'd recognize me, anyway.
By the time we got there the sky had grown dark. The sun was hidden behind a thick shroud that looked like rain, and there was thunder already booming in the distance. The weather had been crazy lately, but that made it seem darker than usual. I brought the box with me, certificate and necklace inside, to show to my great grandmother, hoping it would start the conversation a bit faster. But she wasn't answering the door.
David tried the handle, and the door swung wide open. The lights were on, and music played on an old radio inside a room somewhere. I called out for my great grandmother, and she replied with the most ancient voice I'd heard in a while. "Is that you George?" she asked. That was my grandfather's name.
"No, it's his grandson. Bob," I replied. "I came to see how you were doing."
"Oh, I can barely hear you, son. Won't you come over here? I'm too old to be walking about."
David and I came to a room at the end of the house, right next to the staircase leading to the second floor. It was warm and stuffy inside, and it smelled as if something had died in there a long time ago and no one cared to open a window. There, in an old rocking chair, sat my great grandmother. She looked as old as she sounded. Her skin was wrinkled and saggy, her eyes too tired to stay open. She wore a robe that looked like a curtain, and glasses that you might be able to use to spy on your neighbors. The old radio crackled in one corner, a lit fireplace in the other. There was a cross in the wall above my great grandmother, and pictures of her and the family to the sides.
"It's been so long!" she said, her face beaming for a moment. "What brings you here, my boy?"
"Well, you know how grampa died a while ago," I said. Her face turned sour.
"Yes, yes," she sighed. "I never imagined I would outlive my own son. But he's with God now, and he's at peace."
"Right, so, I wanted to ask you something about him," I said. I doubted for a moment. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to bring it up. I looked at David, who only looked back at me. "I found this," I continued, and showed her the box. I opened it and showed the contents to her, and I saw it again. That same spark of life I saw before my grandfather had died.
"Dear me," she said with a tone I might've mistaken for mock interest. No, more like trying to show less interest than she actually had. "Where did you find that?"
"Back at his grandfather's house," David said. "He says he found a birth certificate, too."
My great grandmother's face turned sour, maybe even angry. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, well, the dates are all wrong, and I was kinda wondering if you knew anything about it," I asked, suddenly wanting to get it out there and over with. But she only looked at me through her telescope eyeglasses. I could feel her judgement, and something else. Fear, maybe.
"Yes, well, a piece of paper is a piece of paper. But that necklace," she said, pointing at the dark, green stone inside the box. "Now, that's an interesting story to tell."
"Really?" David took the necklace and held it up. "This trinket?"
My great grandma's eyes followed the crystal. She looked almost hungry. "Yes, yes, bring it here and I'll tell you," she said. "Better yet, I can show you."
David scoffed and looked back at me with a face that showed his amusement. But when he took a step towards my great grandmother, I grabbed his arm on instinct and yanked him back as he protested.
"Maybe you shouldn't," I tried to whisper, barely in control of my voice anymore. I didn't know why, but I was filled with a sense of dread that sank into my stomach and dried my throat.
"C'mon, man, don't be an idiot," David said, and handed the necklace over to my great grandmother. "Well, show us, then."
"Come here," she gestured with her free hand, the other holding the necklace so the crystal dropped in front of her face. "Come closer so you can see it."
I didn't move. Couldn't. But David did, crouching in front of my great grandma's chair and looking at the necklace. I could swear the room became darker, even though the lights were still on. It was like someone had thrown a veil on the light, and everything was a shade duller. Except the crystal. I wasn't sure at the moment, but it seemed to glow on its own as my great grandma swung it side to side. No, not her. Her hand was steady, unmoving, yet the crystal moved left and right in a hypnotic sway. She looked straight at David. I looked straight at her. And then, in one swift movement, she lunged forward and plunged her teeth into David's neck.
I couldn't think. There I was, staring at my great grandmother's eyes, hers staring into mine, while David choked and gurgled. She was like a big cat, a lion, or maybe a tiger, choking its prey, suffocating David until all life went out. All the while the crystal glowed in her hand, and her eyes, now wild and focused, stared into mine. She opened her mouth, even more than it did when she took the first bite, and let blood flow freely from her jaw. David dropped to the ground, and I could only stand in horror at what I was seeing.
"The boy seeks answers," she said, her voice no longer ancient, but smooth and sharp. "Just like poor, little George. Always with a question. Always searching and never finding." She dropped to her knees and on top of David's shaking, bleeding body. "Life is consumption. One thing turns into another, and the cycle continues." She lunged down and took another bite out of my friend. And another. Between tearing chunks of skin and muscle she spoke, sometimes with her old voice, sometimes with the clearer one, and at times it would be both. "'Tis but the deal we made, to be whole and forever. But little George just had to know, and he took what was ours. But he could not use it, no. He didn't know death. Not like we do. Not how you will."
And I heard enough. I turned to run, but felt her fingers sinking into my leg. I fell down, and though I could still hear her feasting on my dead friend's body, I knew she held on to me for seconds. I kicked as hard as I could until she lost her grip, and got up to leave. Behind me I heard her howl - a roar that made the walls tremble and the lights flicker. I went for the front door, but not before looking back at what I was leaving behind. My great grandmother wasn't human anymore. Her skin had turned a dark shade of blue, and as she fed on David her body mass grew. Her muscles bulged and contracted, her arms and legs became longer, her fingers turned to claws before my very eyes. She was a chimera, part human, part something else, and the crystal was now etched onto her chest.
I'm unsure of how it all happened. She was fast, and caught up with me as I reached the door. She shoved me against the wall, and I struggled to keep her fangs from making me her next meal. One thing I remember was the heat emanating from her. She was like a furnace, radiating a wave of heat that felt like it burned my skin as I grabbed her arms and neck to keep her from mauling me. I managed to slip away, now faced with the option of dying or running upstairs. I opted to extend my life, even for a bit, and scampered up to the second floor. I could hear her breathing heavily as she followed, breaking all the obstacles I threw her way as I went down the long hallway.
She was becoming slower every second. It was as if she was spending too much energy just existing in that wretched form. Still, her claws were sharp and drew blood as she began her assault again. I thought my fight was lost as I reached the end of the hallway, unable to open a door to hide behind. But then, the creature my great grandmother had become began to truly slow down. She dropped to her knees and began to wheeze, choking for air. She looked up at me with so much hatred and hunger. I still see her yellow eyes when I close my own. And her words as her body withered and turned to ash still echo in my mind.
"Too soon this frail flesh fails us," she said. "The sustenance, insufficient. The air like fire. Yet, death is but a way, and beyond the Veil we wait. We wait." She repeated those last two words until there was nothing left but a pile of black salt and dust, and the crystal.
I must've stood there for hours, unable to bring myself to pick it up and leave. But I had to. There was nothing left of David. He was consumed completely, bones, skin, clothes, and all. I went back home and hid in my room, where I cried alone until the sun came up. I don't know what happened, and I don't want to believe this is true, but my friend is dead and his mom has already called looking for him. There's no way to explain that she'd believe me, and there's no one I can turn to about this. I wish I could forget, but then again... then again there are secrets here I never imagined would exist. My whole family has turned into a mystery. I don't know who, or what, my great grandmother was. Was my grandfather the same? Or maybe his real father had something to do with it? I can't think straight, but that birth certificate and this crystal must be the beginning of an answer. An answer I'm not sure I'm willing to pursue.
I'm tired, and this is way too long, probably. I wish I could forget, but David was a very dear friend, and the guilt is taking its toll on me. And the crystal. That thing must be cursed. I swear I can hear things coming from it. Or rather, the crystal is making me hear things inside my mind. Like memories being poured in that I can't really understand. It's back inside the box, and the box is hidden somewhere safe. But is anywhere really safe for me anymore?


Source.