Ghost Stories

Some people call my grandmother crazy, but how could she be? She's the sweetest, most wonderful woman. And she makes me cookies every time I visit. I love her, I love her chocolate chip indulgence, and I love her ghost stories.

My great-grandfather died when my grandmother was thirteen, but she still remembered him. She loved to tell me tales from when he was alive. Not all of them involved him directly, but he was always in the background of her stories, hovering lovingly.

In this one, my grandmother was just seven years old, and living with her father and sisters in an ancient house in the city. This was the house, my grandmother said, with the door that had never been opened. It was locked, and though a few people had tried in passing to see what was behind it, it had been left untouched for decades.

One night, they were all crowded on the couch, watching TV, my great-grandfather surrounded by his loving daughters. My grandmother sensed something behind her, but when she looked around at her family, she realized she was the only one, so she blew it off.

Then something pulled her hair.

She screamed and instinctually swatted at her little sister Mae, but the yelp of dismay told her it hadn't been her sibling. Whirling around, my grandmother felt her eyes filling with tears.

My great-grandfather enveloped her in his arms. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"Daddy...there was...I felt something! And then it pulled my hair!"

"What did?" her father asked, but she was shaking too hard to answer. He looked around at the other girls. "Anyone see anything?"

They all shook their heads, their mouths thin, scared lines. My grandmother pulled away and looked over my great-grandfather's shoulder. Her eyes grew to the size of saucer plates.

"Daddy," she whispered.

When he turned around, they all saw that the door that had never been opened was sagging on its hinges, leading into a darkness blacker than the night outside.

I shivered as I listened to this, and my grandmother handed me another cookie with a knowing smile.

"He shut that door and nailed boards across it," she said, "and we never heard from it again."

I sent an uneasy glance across the room at the very door and wondered if whatever was inside would come for my generation too.