She wasn't much an active person, mostly due to her weight or perhaps her desire for a rich life she thought she could because of his favorite grandchild bringing her the goos life. I failed.
I looked at the child who suddenly burged in uninvited. The typical school girl on holidays or after school visiting my grandmother to keep her company. be it because there was something to eat in her hpuse or because maybe her hpuse felt more home than theirs, questions both trivial to me and will always be a mystery unless I get a clue or maybe found out. The litte girl was unfamiliar to me and yet I feel like I should know her.
I wanted to ask who she was but I have a feeling that like the many children who come and go to my grandmother's house whenever I used to visit her on my vacation or free time, they'd playfully keep me from guessing who they were. And so I spoke to her like I was supposed to know her.
"I.. I don't know," I said. I just realized how weird and heavy her question was. "My grandma passed a few days before and-"
"Why aren't you crying?" she asked seemingly annoying and more curiou.
"I.. I- Why?" I meant why she was asking me.
"Aren't you sad?" she misunderstood my question to her question. I wanted to apologize and properly start the introduction. I'm curious now to who this girl is. First, I must introduce myself.
"I'm sorry-"
"You did nothing wrong." she suddenly cut. By then, I felt like no introduction is needed. I have this strange feeling I've known this little for a very long time.
"No, I mean.. yeah, I'm supposed to be sad, right? But right now, I don't know." I said. "I don't know what or how to feel. I should be sad because my grandmother just died but I don't feel like being sad. And before you're going to say it, no, I'm not happy either."
"Is that the reason why you're not crying?"
"I.. I guess so."
"What was your grandmother like?" a strange question that feels like she knows of a different answer and yet is asking for a answer of my own. Felt like a multiverse of sort.
"To tell you the truth," I tried laughing empty laughters. "I'm really not much of a good kid. I don't know when things just became good between me and my grandma but it just sort of happen. Soon after she would proudly tell everyone that I'm her favorite grandchild. Even though I was really just a naughty kid. Heck, I couldn't even become what they all wanted me to be." I laughed once more-
"There's nothing funny and yet you keep laughing. Why?"
"I.. I don't know. Maybe I'm just seeing how tragic of a miserable life I have and this misfortunate life I'm living right now will go on and go on." I said. I felt tears forming in my eyes and instinctively I nonchalantly wipe it off without seeming I did.
"Are you really not going to cry?" This is the second time she asked me this and I felt every word heavier than previously. As if she wants me to cry.
"I.. I'm not sad," I lied.
"You were never a good liar," the child's voice changed. What was once a voice colored green, must be out of innocence, turned ashened white, probably it became ancient, old and wise. I don't know why I could see the color of voice, I just could. The child's voice never changed though. Same pitch, same tone, just the color.
Instead of being surprised or even fearful of the sleight, I felt at ease. This stranger child felt more and more familiar than when we first spoke. I feel like- No, I definitely have known her for a long time.
A gentle breeze of verdure glade scented the air. The moist bark and leaves of the trees echoed in the fragrance of the air. A total different ambiance to feel compared to the smoky air of the bustling city life.
The clouds formed in seemingly strange yet not so strange formation, the udual thing that clouds do when a gust of air goes up to the heaven. And maybe to a not so far off distany horizon.
"Who are you?" I asked. By this time my curiousity get the better of me. Yet, I feel like I already know the answer. I should.
"Such a shame I couldn't finish all of those puzzles," the little girl's eyes were sadly looking the the puzzle and crosswords books my late grandmother left. She adores playing them. Her meticolous and sharp mind would be hyper focused while she answered them on siesta time of middays. I never really understood how those puzzles were played, this must be partly why I was always amazed whenever I tried answering them, I couldn't and with a few words from, the puzzle unravels. Definitely a top rank for puzzle games like this. Must be the reason why I like some puzzle games and why have the occasional hyperfocus. I got them from her.
"The crosswords puzzles?" I got up, went to the puzzle book on the table top my grandmother would usually sit herself all day as she passed time and picked one of book. They shpuld be called booklet but the title on their cover insists they are books "These are left by my grandma-" I realized I was yet again alone in the front porch of my grandma's house.
Maybe the kid went inside to get some food or turn on the radio so I just let her be. A much moment passed and still she hasn't come back and so I checked the inside of the house. There was no one there beside me. I checked the front gate of the house, it was close, not locked. Somethinf that wasn't right whenevee children or anyone visit my grandmother. It should always be open whenever there someone who visited the house but right now it wasn't. I asked myself, was I actually alone the whole time? Was it a ghost that I met?
I walked passed my grandmother's room. Suddenly the door to her room blasted open and loud shriek reverberated through the halls of her house. I was backing away when a familiar hand landed on my shoulder. I was afraid to turn around. Another hand appeared on my other shoulder. I looked at my side the hands were filled with blisters and sort of rotten flesh. I think I saw part of bones st8cking out. The hands were decripit as they waltz from shoulder to my neck. I can hear an eeriely terrifying low voice.
"You killed me! You left me here to rot. It's all your fault! You killed me!"
The hands wrapped themselves around my neck as they hugged me tightly. They're choking me. Was it my grandmother? Impossible, she wouldn't. She would? But I didn't much time as before so I couldn't visit her as much. Not to mention the budget needed and the things to be left behind and have to br picked up once I gi back from visitibg her. And I even sent her money. But I have to be real. The hands around my neck tightened and now ashen finger nails are clawing throung my neck skin. Was giving her money because I wanted her to have some or was I just doing it as a duty? And a duty that I was having thoughts of being annoying. Yes! Yes! These are my actual thoughts.
I grabbed the hands chokibg me. They were dead cold. Hands of the deceased. I can feel the scabs and the flesh rots, the pus from the shackling hands as I tried fighting back. It was terrifyingly disgusting.
"You killed me!"
The voice once again spoke. But I was her friend from since when we parted ways or so. I was crying out of desperation.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I keep saying-
But enough of this. From the point of when the door open to the hands choking they aren't actually real. I apologize for this sudden horror within a fiction I'm writing. I know it's a bit distasteful but hey, I apologize, alright?
So where was I? Oh! I was just returning back to the front porch when I saw a silhoutte of the child. She was playinf with the puzzle books. I quietly went there but the little girl was really quick and she must've noticed me. When I got to the front door kf the house the little girl left through the open gate of house. The gate swang open as the back of the little girl became less and less visible from the distant she already was. She must have ran away. I wondered why at first then I checked the puzzle books left on the table.
It's a crossword puzzle and one of the answer is encircled. It says: grandchild.
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