The Grandma

(Excerpt from Posts by Anonymous 02/11/10(Thu)22:29 No.3539128)

When I was growing up, I used to go play in the woods behind my grandma's house.
My grandma was kind of an odd lady. My mom died when I was really little, and my dad's job
meant he had to travel a lot, so he'd always leave me at her house when he had to go away. She
would tell me stories, sometimes, about the Old Country -she said it just like that, like you could
hear the capitals dropping into place. They were always kind of weird stories- I don't remember
much about them, but there was always hunting and…fighting and taking involved, and they'd sound
like something out of a fairy tale if Grandma hadn't talked about them like they were real, and like
she'd known the people in them.
Anyways, I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.
The point of this is, the things in her stories that were most always the monsters were the things
she called hunters, or sometimes the hungry ones, and they rode on wild stags and carried bone
knives and if you stayed out beyond sundown, they would find you and catch you and split you from
neck to navel and feed your heart to their hunting dogs.

The woods out behind her house were pretty wild and thick and rough terrain—not someplace that
you'd want a seven-year old running around in; grandma always told me to keep the house in sight
and not to stay out past nightfall, but I wasn't a particularly obedient kid so a lot of times I ended up
going a lot deeper into the woods than I was supposed to. But I always got back before sundown.
Except for once.

There were pretty big ditches in the woods, and I only called them 'ditches' because I didn't know
what a ravine was. But they got pretty steep, and pretty treacherous, and even though some of
them had bridges across themI don't know where the bridges came from, so don't askthe
bridges were old as fuck and rotting besides, so it was usually safer to just skid down the ravine
and climb up the other side than try to cross one of the bridges.
Anyways, this one time I was running around in the woods, and I tried doing what I just described.
On the way down, I skid wrong and fell on my ankle. The ravine was steep enough that I couldn't
get up either side.
I knew that I couldn't just stay there or nobody would find me, so I started limping along the ravine.
I've always had a pretty good sense of direction, so I knew that I was heading the right way. But I
couldn't move fast enough to get back home before the sun set. So it's getting to be the kind of
pitch-black outside that anyone who's lived in the country knows about, and I start hearing dogs
baying. But they don't really sound like dogs, you know? There's something rough about their
howling, something sort of strangled-like. But it's far enough that I'm a little off-put, yeah, but not
enough to stop moving. So I keep going.

Soon enough, the baying stops, and then I -do- start to get scared. Because I hear things moving
around the top of the ravine, and bells (like jingle bells, weirdly enough) and laughter. Giggling,
almost, except giggling implies that it wasn't the kind of sound that would make you wet yourself in
fear, and believe me when I say that it was.
I was nearly in tears at this point because I was so frightened, and I was limping along the bottom
of that ditch as fast I could. I really thought that it was the hungry ones who'd come to catch me
and kill me and feed my heart to their dogs.
I don't remember a whole lot about the rest of that night -memory will do that to you, when you're
scared enough- except for this: the hungry ones didn't get me. Obviously, because I'm still around
to post this on /x/. But my grandma did, and that was the only time I ever heard her speak like she
did. It wasn't English. I'm not exactly sure WHAT it was. But it made the things that were shuffling
around at the top of the ravine go away, and then she came down and got me and carried me the
rest of the way home. She wasn't pissed that I'd disobeyed her. She was just glad that she'd found
me "in time". I still don't know how she did, because those woods were fucking huge.

I never went back to my grandma's house after that. I think she told my dad what had happened,
and after that he didn't let me go back to her house. He hired a nanny to look after me while he was
gone, instead.
Anyways, I guess you could consider my grandma to be my 'guardian spirit'. In that instance, at
least. I haven't seen her since, although she sends me Christmas and birthday cards and when I
turned eighteen she sent me a quilt in the mail.

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