That's Not Grandma...

I know this sounds like a ghost story, and maybe it is. But it’s… I don’t know… just something that happened to me. There’s probably a rational explanation, but 15 years later, I still have no idea what that could be. Regardless, it’s very true and remains the creepiest thing that’s ever happened to me.

When I was 15, my mom and I moved into my grandmother’s house to help her out. She was getting pretty old, losing her eyesight, and she had fallen down a few times. My parents were in the middle of a divorce, so it only made sense for everyone. The house was built sometime in the early 1900’s, I think. My grandparents bought it sometime in the 60s and my mom had grown up there. I never knew my grandpa as he died long before I was born, but my mom always spoke fondly of him. My grandma, however, was a different story.

She wasn’t a monster or anything, but she wasn’t terribly kind. She had a way of making you feel small, like everything about you exasperated her. She wasn’t very loving, but she could be funny and she was an amazing cook. I generally just tried not to talk too much when I was around her. Like I said, she was losing her sight, but she never failed to point out that I looked like a “raggamuffin”. That was her favorite thing to say to me.

The house was old but had been kept up nicely. My mom took her old bedroom upstairs and next to my grandmother’s bedroom. The basement was finished so that was kind of my little area. Grandma never came down the stairs so it was pretty private. At first, everything was fine. I kinda felt like a grownup living in my own apartment. However, after a couple of weeks, I started to hear something I couldn’t explain. The first time it happened, I was just getting into bed. It was around 11pm and I had switched off my lamp and laid my head on the pillow. But before I could even close my eyes, I heard what sounded like a soft dragging sound on the floor above me. I froze, not out of fear, but just in an effort to not make any noise so I could hear the sound more clearly. I heard it again, and it sounded like it was moving its way across the entryway which was directly over me. It sounded like something not particularly heavy being dragged or pushed. Like a box of books being nudged slowly across the floor. I figured it was my mom or grandma and just went to sleep. The next morning, I asked my mom if she had been up in the middle of the night and she said no. She and my grandma had stayed up late talking and she had fallen asleep in my grandmother’s room that night. They had both slept soundly, she said. I was a little freaked out by that but shrugged it off. What else could I really do?

This happened pretty regularly, but I always found a way to justify it. I even tiptoed upstairs a few times when it was happening, but I never found anyone or anything that could have made the sound. One night, though, things changed. I was again going to bed around 11 when I heard the dragging sound, very faintly. It sounded like it was in the kitchen, which is where the door to the basement was. I crept out of bed, determined this time to get to the bottom of it! I began making my way up the stairs as quietly as I could, but before I made it up more than 2, the door at the top of the staircase opened very slowly. I flipped on the light switch next to me and I saw my grandma in her nightgown standing there, grinning down at me. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. She looked normal. Just like she always looked. Everything except the grin. It wasn’t like a Hollywood horror movie grin or anything. Just a normal, close mouthed smile. But that’s why it felt… wrong. My grandma was always quite dour. Even when making jokes, she maintained an air of disinterest and irritation.

I told her she startled me and asked if she needed something. She just stood there, grinnig.

“Grandma?” I asked thinking she might not have heard me or maybe she was sleepwalking. I took another step toward her and she turned and kind of shuffled away, leaving the door wide open. Weirded out, but not afraid, I followed up the stairs, but she was nowhere to be seen. I quietly walked through the house to my grandmother’s bedroom, and saw that the light was on and she and my mother were sitting and chatting. I asked my grandma if she needed something from me, but she looked at me like I was dumb and just said no. I asked why she opened the basement door and my mom said they were just getting ready to call it a night and that grandma hadn’t left the room. I swear as I turned to return to my room, my grandma looked right at me and grinned, just like she had at the top of the stairs. I ran back to my bedroom and hid under the blankets. I couldn’t understand what had just happened.

A few weeks later, my grandma passed away in her sleep. Since she had no other family, we got the house and decided to stay. About a week after her memorial service, the dragging sounds started again but now I refused to go look for them. I lived in that house for the next 3 years until I went off to college. At least 4 other times that I know of, that door at the top of the stairs slowly creaked open in the middle of the night and once I swear I hear soft footsteps padding down to the basement.

Thankfully my mom sold that house a few years later. I drive past it every once in a while and I can’t help but wonder if the new owners experience anything. I’ve thought about knocking on the door and telling them it used to be my family’s house and asking if I could look around, but I don’t think I could do it. What if I saw her by the stairs? Or heard the dragging sound again?

Thanks for reading.