Grandpa's House

Posted: Friday May 3, 2019

Sometimes the places I wander, I do not desire the opportunity to properly photograph, yet I still feel the place embodies a tale which needs to be told. The following short story entitled "Grandpa's House", reflects one such very occasion. During my adventure into Grandpa's House, I only had my cellphone on me, however the property left such an impression upon my curiosity and imagination that it beckoned me to create a story. While poking around the decaying rooms full with personal belongings and heartfelt hand written letters from holidays long past, an overwhelming aura of darkness crept into my conscience, leaving me very uncomfortable and on edge about the strange little abandoned house tucked within the woods. The impression grew so strong that I felt truly uncomfortable about the house and vowed never to return again. And so I'm left with only a handful of crappy pictures, which I've decided to include below.

"Mommy, where's Grandpa?" "Oh Jake, hunny, Grandpa is no longer with us." "But Mommy, what do you mean, is Grandpa sleeping again, he's been asleep way too long, maybe I can wake him up, will he sleep forever?" "I'm afraid so Jake. Remember when everyone in the family got together the other week, remember, we had that party, well that was to celebrate Grandpa and all of the things he did for us and for you over his life. Grandpa still loves you Jake, as he always will, but things are just going to be a bit different now, you will understand more as you grow older, okay hun?" "Okay Mommy, but I didn't like that party, everyone was crying, it wasn't fun, and grandpa wouldn't leave the box, I don't understand, it was just a small box, that's silly, Grandpa would never fit inside there, I just want to play again!"

Jake's toes squirmed as he dipped his feet into the creek which had crested well over its muddy bank and was beginning to flood the backyard, evident by the submerged grass which waved back and forth like seaweed under the ebb and flow of the rising current. The water was icy cold, flowing swiftly from the abundance of newly melted snow liquified by the strong Spring sun, as its warming rays began to thaw the air and wake the Earth from its Winter slumber. Jake was sitting safely within Grandpa's lap, studying the ground below with a fixated stare, mesmerized by the dozens of little green plants that were beginning to sprout from the wakening ground. All around, Jake was surrounded by nature, it was as if he were captive yet alive within the mountains and blue sky abound. The birds chipped louder at Grandpa's than at home and the air felt cleaner with each inhale. Weekend getaways at Grandpa's house became Jake's oasis and even at such a young age, the brief memories he formed would last a lifetime. Even the drive with his mother along the country roads which eventually turned to gravel, indicating they were almost there, was rejuvenating.

"Look Grandpa, this plant has a little purple flower on it, what are they?" Well Jake, those are called Violets and they just happen to be Grandma's favorite flower, maybe you could pick a few in honor of her?" "Okay Grandpa, do you think they will make Grandma feel better." "Oh I'm sure they will Jake, I know they will bring a smile to her heart where ever she may be", Grandpa softy replied, albeit, a bit misty eyed." "I think it's about time we head back inside Jake, aren't you getting hungry too?" Yes Grandpa, can we make pizza again?" Jake exclaimed, ripe with a smile smitten across his face. "Well that sounds like the perfect plan, now run inside and I'll be right behind you in just a few moments," Grandpa happily replied.

Grandpa watched for a few minutes as Jake ran across the lawn and up the side porch, into the house." "Now, don't forget to take your shoes off!!" Grandpa yelled out, with a clear sense of kindness to his tone. As Fred slowly began to stand up from sitting along the creek, a rush of crippling pain shot through his knees and back. The agony and soreness all too familiar, forever persistent over the past few years, this arthritis was really beginning to cripple him and the truth was he could no longer keep up with his grandson and his ever developing sense of curiosity about the world, but the pain was nothing compared to how Fred felt inside. Fred could barely even make it up to the second floor of his own home, forcing him to now sleep in the guest bedroom down stairs, away from their personal belongings and the very room Mary and him shared, which sparked the only memories Fred had remaining from his dear wife. Since Mary's passing, Fred turned the bedroom into a memorial of sorts, full with belongings to jot fading memories. Fred would often visit the room when feeling most alone. However, when Jake would visit, the door to this room Fred kept locked, for he feared the boy might wander into and disrupt what remained.

Fred knew he probably hadn't much longer with the boy, maybe a year or two at best before time either physically or mentally took its final toll. Ever since his wife of fifty-five years past four years ago, Fred felt his spirits continually dwindling. Fortunately, Jake was was just an infant when his Grandma, Mary passed, so the boy had not been subject to such a grievance himself. However, Jake being the curious boy he was would often ask Grandpa about Grandma, and Fred never had much to share, not because of lack of stories to tell, but because Fred simply just could not remember any longer many of the memories he knew were once there. It was this awareness of lack of what should have been imprinted life-long impressions that often brought Fred to contemplate tasting the bitter, metallic barrel of the receiving end from the .22 he kept on the top shelf of his bedroom closet. Almost always Fred just wanted to completely forget everything, rather than slowly live within his own decaying mind, rapidly decomposing from old age until he would become entirely just a ghost of his formal self, which he knew Jake would never understand. However, the life and wonderment embodied by Jake and his unconditional love for his Grandpa always gave Fred the the strength to live day-by-day, and he cherished the boy for it.

"BOO!", Jake screamed as he popped out from under the kitchen sink cabinet, kicking the frail wooden door open from behind with a thunderous punt. Grandpa nearly lost his footing, startled but laughing as Jake than ran across the tiled kitchen floor, yelling "I got you Grandpa, I got you", before nearly slipping as his socks lost traction as the boy ran around the corner into the living room. "Grandpa come and catch me," Jake jubilantly yelled as the boy ran laps around the kitchen table. "Now now Jake, it's time to calm down, remember we're going to make pizza and we have to be patient for that." "Okay Grandpa, I will be calm I want to make pizza, can I grate the cheese Grandpa?" "Yes Jake, just remember to be careful and go slow we don't need you cutting your finger open again." "Yes Grandpa, I will be careful, no more boo-boo's, I promise."

As the pizza baked in the oven, Jake went to the bathroom to wash up as Grandpa set the dinning room table for two just as he had for many years prior, but today Mary's seat would be occupied by Jake, a realization that always brought a smile across Fred's face, for a sense of loneliness was erased for the evening, at least. "Look Grandpa look, look!" Jake exclaimed as he returned from the bathroom with a surprise in his hands. "JAKE, YOU PUT THAT DOWN RIGHT NOW," Grandpa yelled with enough stern force to turn the boy's eyes into faucets. "But it was on your dresser Grandpa, I just wanted to show you what I found," Jake exclaimed as tears began to flood from his eyes pouring over his blushed cheeks like a waterfall, as the boy ran into the bedroom to hide.

Trembling with anxiety, Grandpa approached the gun realizing he was the only one to blame for leaving it completely loaded, unlocked, and misplaced. Ever since Mary passed, the house had become such a mess. Fred just couldn't get himself to tidy anything up and his foggy memory was beginning to take a turn for the worse. "You know old man, you really have to remember to lock your toys away, someone is going to get killed because of your forgetfulness, and it's not going to be you!" Mary would certainly have scolded Fred, if she were still alive.

Sterilite box full of Christmas decorations, piles of dirty clothes, and discarded food packages littered the house, it was truly becoming to look like a hoarder's residence, but Fred simply couldn't handle putting away any of it, for Mary passed soon after the holidays and the decorations reminded him fondly of her. But it was not just the decorations that remained untouched, everything, even his wife's vehicle remained forever parked alongside the dirt driveway, its tires airless, disintegrating into the ground, much like Fred's own spirits. Mary's closet in the bedroom looked just the same as it had before her passing, the space lined with old dresses and shirts hanging neatly from thin sagging metal hangers. Fred brought the gun back into his bedroom and placed it about the top shelf of his closet wherein it should have been all along, out of reach, all the while fighting the desire to just to end it all, but for the boy he could not and would not.

"I'm sorry for yelling Jake, it was my fault I should have not left that out for you to find. That is an adult toy, a gun, and only adults like Grandpa are allowed to handle it." Now come on out from under the blankets Jake, the pizza will soon be done, and I need you to cut the pie into slices for your Grandpa." "Jake wiped the tears from his eyes with his blanket and placed his hand into Grandpa's and together they walked over to the kitchen table, careful not to trip over any of the belongings that were strewn across the house. Grandpa knew Jake was too young to realize the significance of, or even that it was not normal to live in such a sty, but it tore Fred apart that he could not find the strength within himself to do anything from cleaning to living, without the boys contagious joy.

"Now Jake, eat up, your mother will be here shortly to pick you up, and then it's back to school again." "But Grandpa I don't wanna leave, I wanna sit outside by the creek and pick violets for Grandma again," Jake respond. Grandpa holding back his tears, "I know Jake, but you have to start school in the morning and mommy is already on her way." "But Grandpa you're more fun than mommy." "Now don't say that Jake, mommy loves you just as much as Grandpa and you will be back soon to visit again."

The doorbell rang its familiar chime. "Jake, do you have all your stuff, mommy is here?" "Yes Grandpa, I'm coming, I'm coming. Lisa scooped the boy up with big motherly hug asking how he enjoyed his weekend away with Grandpa?" "It was great mommy, we sat outside by the creek and picked flowers and made pizza". Well I can see Jake," she responded laughingly while dabbing a bit of the crusted sauce off from the corner of the boy's mouth. "And Mommy, I found one of Grandpa's toys, he calls it a gun, but it's a big-boy-toy Grandpa says and I'm not allowed to play with it." Lisa's eyes shot open, "Yes Jake, Grandpa is right, that's a not a toy and you should never play with a gun, now go to the car and sit in your seat like a good boy and mommy will be right behind".

"Fred, I can't believe you would leave something like that within reach when you know Jake was coming over, and look at this place it's a damn mess, you have stuff all over. Dad, I'll say it one last time, you have to take responsibility if you're ever going to be trusted with your grandson for any more weekends," his daughter angrily remarked. "I know Lisa, it's entirely my own fault. Ever since your mother passed I've just found it harder and harder to keep the house in line, you know she used to do all that, I can barely feed myself, I'm just so broken", Fred responded. "I know dad, we've invited you to come stay with us countless times, but you've refused." "Lisa, you just don't understand, I can't disturb or leave your mother behind, these are my only lasting memories of her as my own is beginning to quickly fade. "I understand Dad and I love you, but I can't help if you're not willing to forgive and move on. For the time being I'm no longer comfortable with you watching Jake alone any more, I'm sorry Dad, but I have to draw the line somewhere. God even knows if that gun was loaded, I can't even fathom what could have happened today."

Lisa hugged her father goodbye and welcomed him to spend time with Jake at her place. "Dad I love you but your grandson's safety is the most important." Lisa explained before kissing her father on the cheek and walking back to the car, finding Jake fast asleep within his car seat. Lisa buckled the boy in and kissed his forehead before slowly backing out of the driveway, Fred watched from behind the kitchen window as the red break lights disappeared into the darkness. Fred sulked as he dragged himself into the bed room. He sat about the edge of the bed, staring at the box above the top shelf within the closest. Fred hated himself more than ever in this moment, he couldn't even remembering anything positive to breath for. He knew he dearly missed the companionship of Mary, yet in this moment Fred could barely conjure up any memories of his wife, whom he could only remember was now gone. All of the good times had been forgotten, destroyed by the black hole of old age and physical decay.

The lasting thought of now loosing Jake to his own stupidity and forgetfulness permeated his mind and filled his soul with a dread heavier than lead. "How could I be so stupid, how could I ruin the only positive memory I had left?" Fred lamented to himself over and over. Fred wanted nothing more than to forget everything. And in a final rash moment of emotional Hell, everything was indeed forgotten, strewn grotesquely across the white plaster walls in as much chaos as the house itself had been left to rot without Mary. Over the following weeks, that which remained of Fred was cremated and placed within a small urn no bigger than a fancy ring box. Lisa hoped Jake would be too young to grasp the full devastation of the loss, instead utilizing silly white lies as mothers often so do to try to mask the complexity of death as merely sleeping forever, or some other fairytale story that only a Disney movie could make believable.

In the 15 years passing his Grandpa's death, Jake being the curious smart child he was, grew into an equally curious, rebellious teenager, yet gravely haunted by a childhood loss that he was only just now beginning to be understand for what had actually transpired. And so, one Spring afternoon, Jake set out on his own to re-live the last memories he had of his Grandpa. He could just barely remember the back country roads his mother would drive most weekends to drop him off as a child. While the memory connections were foggy at best, they were strong enough for Jake to manage to drive himself back to where he believed the creek which overflowed every Spring and the lawn which grew wild with violets existed. As the winding asphalt country roads turned to dirt and the face of the distant mountains became a wall of trees and stone, Jake's childhood memories began to blossom. "This is it," Jake exclaimed, as he turned off onto a gravel road riddled with potholes the size of basketballs. The road soon became clogged with fallen tress and scarred with washouts deep enough that Jake had to pull to the side and walk the rest of the way to where he remembered his Grandpa's house being.

The bright green spring foliage acted like a blind, obscuring anything within twenty feet ahead behind a wall of vegetation. Despite the fallen trees, Jake was able to follow the old pitted driveway up to the top of the mountain where the trees began to thin and in the distance a structure rose from the green. The memories came rushing back as Jake immediately recognized the porch he used to run up at which time Grandpa would always yell for him to take off his shoes. However, the property now looked to be ravaged by an apocalypse. The front yard grew wild with ivy and thorns and the creek had swollen into a larger tributary which looked to have flooded the house, eroding the foundation away like decaying teeth. The porch awning had collapsed over the front door and the roof was littered with holes. Broken windows bled curtains which had become entangled within the vines outside and shred into thin strands by the sharp glass. Grandpa's Jeep even remained rotting away in the driveway directly across from the back door to the house which had been busted open from a heavy fallen tree limb. The entrance beckoned Jake to come inside, one last time.

Within the house darkness prevailed and the entire abode wreaked of mothballs, not at all how Jake remembered, but nature had taken its toll over the past decade of abandonment. The wooden floors creaked and bowed as Jake placed his weight upon the rotting boards. Yellow crime scene tape was still placed across Grandpa's bedroom door although ripped and shred apart by the wind, flowing like delicate string in the breeze. The kitchen looked like a tornado had ripped through. Torn food packages and soup cans littered the floor. Pots and pans still hung from their hooks covered with cobwebs, the very sight flooding Jake with childhood memories. Walking up the stairs to his old bedroom, familiar clothes and garments littered the steps. The door to his bedroom was wide open and despite the collapsed ceiling nothing had changed. Jake's bed was still made as he remembered doing so, and a shelf full of old VHS tapes and a Hess Toy Truck collection remained intact. It was all so ghostly and ghastly to gaze upon, the memories of his many childhood weekends at Grandpa's now in ruins, forgotten by all but time and himself.

The next room Jake wandered, he remembered Grandpa would always say was off-limits. It's where Grandma and Grandpa used to stay, Jake recalled Grandpa telling. But this decade around, the door was open a crack, swollen apart at the frame from years of water damage and decay. Jake could see a large bed was made as neatly as ten years of abandonment would allow, but upon it, dead center, an odd lump clearly remained, old clothes Jake could see and a bit of fallen ceiling tile too; the house was on the verge of collapsing into itself. As Jake entered the room to investigate further he could gather the space was once a bedroom, still neatly set up with what would have been his Grandma's belongings. Her wardrobe of dresses and clothes folded orderly in chest drawers, old family pictures still placed atop an oak dresser, a wooden armoire crusted with cobwebs keeping company to a dusty framed picture of young Jake himself, sitting atop Grandpa's knee alongside the creek which once ran out back. A chill ran down Jake's spine as the memories flooded his mind. Dozens of pressed flowers littered the floor, long dead and grey, yet obviously violets picked years ago from the lawn out front. The room remained like a shrine, visited only by the elements of nature over the past ten years. Jake took to seat along the edge of the bed to flip through an old family photo album he found discarded about the floor, when he heard a loud crack bellow out from beneath the pile of clothes.

As Jake pulled the blankets back to scrutinize the scene he immediately froze in fear. A human skull appeared from under the quilt, complete with a lump of gnatty, stiff hair still attached to the scalp, a diamond necklace dangled over the frail neck bones, and what looked like a ring was still placed around a detached finger. Attached to the skull the remainder of the torso decayed, the lower body draped over by what appeared to be a torn white wedding dress, loosely conforming to the boney creases of the skeletal remains. Flaps of skin even existed about some of the bones, like a mummified corpse, still grossly intact. Other skeletal features were swallowed by the sagging mattress which wreaked of mold and mildew, pitted in the middle by a pool of dark, oily liquid, in which random bones protruded, mismatched in every which direction as if once ravaged by a hungry creature. The vacant eye sockets within the lifeless skull stared directly into Jake's soul as he let out a screech off horror at the entirety of the gruesome scene he had literally uncovered. For in that bed dead, it was Grandma, Mary, lifeless and long deceased. Grandpa's last memory, left forgotten.

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