My Grandma is a short creepy story about a young boy’s love for his grandmother. It is based on an old horror comic called “Grandma Died Last Year” which appeared in Haunt of Horror
I loved my grandma. She used to bake me cookies. The kind with the chocolate chips. When Mom said I couldn’t have them anymore, Grandma still baked them and let me eat them before Mom came home from work.
At night, Grandma used to read me bedtime stories. Not those stupid fairy tale ones. Grandma told me ghost stories. Scary ones and I loved them. They were gory and grotesque and, most of all, exciting. We would stay up at night and talk for hours and hours. She was like my best friend.
Mom was always yelling at me and complaining about every little thing I did. Grandma always stuck up for me. Whenever Mom said I had to do my homework, Grandma would always help me and sometimes she would even do my homework for me.
Even though Grandma didn’t have a job, she was always buying me presents. All Mom and Dad did was complain about how we didn’t have any money and everything cost so much and how I needed to behave myself. Grandma never said a bad word about me.
But what I liked best about Grandma was that she never punished me like Mom and Dad did. She let me do whatever I wanted to do. Sometimes Mom and Dad would lock me in my room, when i was bad but when they went out, Grandma would come up and let me out.
Those are the reasons why I loved my grandma more than everyone else in the whole wide world. Every day, I would run home from school to see what kind of cookies or treats Grandma had for me. Then, one day, all of that changed. That was the day I found out there wouldn’t be any more cookies and there wouldn’t be any more ghost stories and there wouldn’t be any more fun. Because when I got home that day and opened the front door, Grandma was lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
She looked kind of like a broken doll. Her arms and legs were sticking out at odd angles and her head was twisted all the way around. Her glasses were broken and she just stared up at me, but it was like she wasn’t really seeing me. I tried to shake her to see if she would get up, but she was as stiff as a log and her body was as cold as ice. No matter how much I shook her and shook her, she just wouldn’t get up. I knew it was bad when I couldn’t hear her heart beating. I listened harder and harder but I still couldn’t hear anything.
I don’t remember much after that. I just sat there and waited for Mom and Dad to get home. They started crying and they called the police. Later, some men came to take Grandma away. I heard them saying she fell down the stairs. After Grandma went away, things started to get bad. Mom was crying all the time and Dad started drinking. At night, I heard them yelling at each other. Dad was complaining about Grandma. He said she spoiled me. I never did like Dad. He was always mean and the drink just seemed to make him meaner.
Sometimes, when I did something bad, Dad would spank me and send me to my room. I didn’t like that at all. I started wishing Grandma was there so things could go back to how they were before.
Mom didn’t talk very much and she stopped going to work. Sometimes, she would take me out for a drive and on the way home, we usually went to visit Grandma in the cemetery.
One night, Dad stayed out late and Mom was in bed crying. I sneaked out of the house and went down to the cemetery. I took my bucket and shovel with me and my little wagon. Mom had taken me to visit Grandma so many times that it was easy to find her grave. I started digging and digging. It was a really hard job, but I didn’t care. I just wiped the sweat off my brow and just kept digging. It took a long time to dig up the coffin and when I finally opened it, Grandma didn’t look very good. She didn’t look good at all.
Her eyes were gone and her skin was all leathery and brown. Her lips were pulled back and it looked like she was grinning at me. I could tell she was glad I dug her up and I knew that if I took her back home, she would start feeling better in no time. It was hard getting her in my wagon but I did it. I decided to keep Grandma in my room, so I could be with her all the time. That night, we had a long talk and she told me a lot of stories. She told me all about what she had been up to while she was away. I told her how Dad had gotten really mean and she said she knew what to do about Dad.
We had to be quiet when I heard Dad come home. He was stumbling up the stairs like he usually did after he had been drinking. He made so much noise, he must have woken Mom up. A few minutes later, I heard Mom and Dad fighting and it was worse than it had ever been. Then, I heard Mom screaming.
I ran into their room and saw Dad beating Mom with a belt. Then he started choking her. Before I could do anything, Mom stopped moving and Dad started telling her to get up and stop pretending. He shook her and shook her, but she still didn’t get up. Then he noticed me standing in the doorway.
“What do you want, you little pest?” he said.
“Grandma’s not going to like this,” I replied.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Grandma was right about you,” I said. “You never were any good and you’re only going to get worse. Grandma’s in my room right now and she knows what you did.”
I don’t think he believed me, but he had to see for himself. He pushed me out of the way and stormed into my bedroom. That’s when Dad got the shock of his life. Grandma was sitting there, grinning at him.
“Oh my God!” he gasped.
Grandma had already told me what to do about Dad. She even told me which drawer the meat cleaver was in. While Grandma kept Dad distracted, I was able to creep up behind him.
After I chopped up Dad’s body, Grandma smiled at me and told me what a smart kid I was.
“Thanks Grandma,” I said. “But this was your idea. You’re the smart one.”
After that, it was just Grandma and me. It was even better than it had been before. We had such a great time together and there was no one around to bother us. We stayed up all night and talked and talked and Grandma told me ghost stories.
