I Asked My Grandmother What Her Scariest Story Was. I Really Wish I Hadn't.

My grandmother came to live with us when I was 12. She wasn’t ill, but at 89 my mother didn’t want her living alone anymore. When my mom wasn’t there, a caretaker would help during the day. On Saturday afternoons while my mom did her shopping, I would watch my grandma.
She was a kind and cheerful lady, and would often tell me stories about her childhood. During this particular week I had taken a book out of the library called Tales Of Terror. That Saturday afternoon we were in the living room folding a basket of clean clothes, when I happened to ask her, “What’s the scariest thing you can remember?†She paused, sitting back in her chair… and then slowly spoke.
“When I was a girl not much older than you, we lived in a small village. The only thing remarkable about it was the abbey. It was about four miles outside of the town up on a hill. No one knew exactly how old it was but it looked like it had been there forever. An order of nuns had taken up residence there and with the help of workmen from the village they had begun a restoration of sorts.
When I turned 14, I was hired to work in the kitchens. The abbey was really the only source of employment for the village and I was happy to have the work. My job was to clear the tables after meals, do the dishes, and sweep the floors. Most days I would quickly finish the dishes and use my sweeping as a reason to explore.
The massive stone entry opened up onto what was called The Great Hall – with several large rooms off of each side. This section was in fairly good condition and was used to greet important guests. The kitchens and sleeping quarters were on the right, and to the left was the chapel and a wide stone path that led to the oldest and most dilapidated section of the abbey. This was of course the part that I was most curious about.
As the weeks passed I took notice that every day at noon a small plate of food was prepared and taken out of the kitchen and through the courtyard. It was then handed to the Mother Abbess. She… and only she, would carry the dish past the chapel and down the shaded path to the oldest part of the abbey. She would return in 20 minutes or so and then retire immediately to her room above the dining hall. The Mother Abbess was quite old and very strict, and I tried my best to keep out of her way. I did my work and took pride in a job well done.
Things went along this way until late September of my first year there. Two of the nuns became ill, and then two become four, and four became six. It spread quickly, until the few left that were healthy spent their days taking care of the sick.
I had been asked to do the dishes and then head home until further notice. They said I would be sent for when the sickness had passed. I finished my work and walked out into what I had never seen before – a completely empty courtyard.
Looking down on the old stone path, I thought, “This may be my only chance.â€
I took a quick glance around and then moved into the cool shadows of the walkway. I hurried up several steps and into the old wing of the abbey.
Outside it was early afternoon but in the dark stone hallway – it was twilight. Here, it was completely silent. I could hear my footsteps echo as I stepped slowly down the hall. The passage went on for a while and it ended at the base of a narrow stairwell. Going up, I felt the curving stone walls with my hand. At the top of the stairs the hall branched out in three directions. I paused and considered retreating, starting to become worried I would get lost.
That was when I saw the footsteps… clearly marked in the thick dust of the floor.
I followed them.
They led down the hallway to the left and up a hallway so narrow that only one person could fit. At the top was a landing with two heavy oak doors on either side – directly opposite of each other. The doors each had a small barred window about 12 inches wide.
Then I heard the whispering.
It was a constant volley of words, spoken with urgency.
I crept closer to the door to see if I could understand, but the words seemed to connect together making some other language foreign to me. I don’t know what possessed me, but I inched toward the bars. I had to see what was inside…
Peaking through them, I saw only darkness. As my eyes adjusted though, I started to make out a small figure. I could see a woman. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but she looked to be turned away from me. Her long hair was matted and unkempt and she was whispering in a feverish pitch.
It was then that something soft brushed against my ankle and I fell back against the door with a scream. Something dark jumped away from me. Looking down, I was relieved to see that it was just the abbey cat. He must have followed me from the kitchen looking for something to eat. Standing back up, I brushed the dust from my clothes and then noticed the whispering had stopped.
I turned around slowly and saw her face was just inches from mine.
Her eyes were solid white, and I was so close that I could see tiny red veins running through them.
She must have been blind, but it wasn’t just her eyes.
Before I fainted, I saw that she was grinning at me… and I heard her whisper three words.
“You are mine.â€


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