This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/No_Apple7504 on 2025-10-25 01:32:33+00:00.

I went to my grandmother’s house today and now I don’t know what to do. I don’t have anyone else I can tell. My friends and family have already been burned by my non-stop schedule. I refuse to make time for them. So, why would they make time for me? That’s how its been ever since I began my work. Its important to me. Probably more important than anything I’ve ever done before. So when it led me to my grandmother whom I haven’t spoken to in over a decade I didn’t bat an eye. She was a teenager around the time of the event I’m covering. She must’ve heard or seen something that I could include in my story. I had to get the scoop, even if I was forced to sit through some awkward chatting about her outdated notions of why I don’t have a boyfriend or family yet. Only, when I got there, it did not go how I expected. It was like she didn’t care to hear how I had been for the past decade at all. In fact, it was as if she thought I visited her normally just like any other grandchild.

When I found myself knocking at her door she promptly answered and pulled me into a tight hug. Okay. That definitely isn’t how she had been throughout my childhood. Had she converted to Christianity or had an epiphany or something since we last spoke? The last thing I remember a decade ago she wore a permanent pout on her lips and judged me for showing my ankles. She ALWAYS wore her hair in a tight up do, and simple makeup. She always wanted to look put together. Now, here she was with a wide smile with her hair down in soft curls. It was like I was looking at a completely different person.

“Oh dear, its so good to see you! I’ve made cookies, would you like some?” Was the first thing she asked me. A decade and all she cared about was some damn cookies? Was this act some sort of ploy to get me to drop my guard?

I managed a smile and replied curtly, “No, thank you, Grandmother. I’m here to ask you about something that happened a long time ago.” I rubbed the back of my neck. I had to be smart with my words. If she was choosing to be kind for the moment then maybe I could get her to share her thoughts with me. But if I wasn’t careful she might clam up and revert back to the uptight hag I’d known before. If she knows its for my job she might not want to tell me anything. She always judged me for picking work over family. “It would’ve been around the time you were a teenager. I heard a story about it and my curiosity got the better of me. Do you recall anything about a string of disappearances? Some kids went missing from their homes and then suddenly reappeared a week later?”

Her face looked visibly pale now. She began to grind her teeth. But then laughed softly as she dragged me inside. “Oh dear, don’t ask such silly questions. No one went missing. They just got lost that’s all. It happens more often than you’d think. They were found. What else is there to say?” She seemed to brush everything under the rug so simply. She pretended to be unbothered but I could see her eye twitching. She was definitely hiding something. Why was she acting so strangely? I looked at her with suspicion.

That’s when it happened. She placed her hand on my shoulder in an almost comforting motion, rubbing circles to sooth me. I looked at it with confusion. Why is she being so nice? All questions about her behavior were dashed at the sight of what I saw. The veins in her hand or what I thought were her veins slithered like snakes. They writhed and wiggled, trapped just under her wrinkly sun spotted skin. I gasped, a shot of adrenaline coursing through me. I flung myself away from her hands, a chair toppling over in the process.

“What’s wrong dear?” She asked with a sort of mock concern in her voice. After a moment of silence she looked at me with a sickly sweet smile plastered on her lips. “I know what will do you some good. Some warm tea will calm your nerves.”

Yes I nodded. Maybe that would help. Clearly, I was sleep deprived. In fact, I hadn’t slept in days. My mind having been so focused on my latest project. My eyes were playing tricks on me and I certainly had a large imagination. I took a breath and sat down. I chipped away at my nail polish, played with a string on my sweater and then traced lines on the wooden kitchen table. Anything to distract myself from replaying the image of what I thought was under her skin.

She brought me the tea in a white ornate china cup with beautiful delicate looking flowers decorating the rim. I could smell the lavender scent of the tea, but undertones of my grandmothers perfume filled my senses as her hands gripped my shoulders from behind. “Why don’t you drink up and then rest in the guest room? Can’t have you having any unhappy accidents on the way home.” I gripped the glass tighter and nodded wordlessly.

A million questions raced through my mind. What had I seen before? Was it the imagination of a sleep deprived journalist, or something more sinister? If it was the first then why was she behaving so differently? And something even more startling ate away at me as I finished my tea and made my way to the guest room. She hadn’t addressed me by my actual name (Madeline) once since I’d arrived. Just dear and silly. Did she not remember me? Does she think I’m someone else? If so, why had she welcomed me in and made me tea and why was she still letting me stay? If she doesn’t recognize me, then her behavior is even odder.

I have to know what’s going on. I have to know if it was real. I want to believe that it wasn’t but everything that’s happened since I got here has only made me question further. Something is definitely going on and I will get to the bottom of it. The journalist in me has to know. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been. Even if I’d imagined whatever I had, I could not explain away the major changes in her looks and behavior. But my investigation will have to wait til after I have a nap. I’m too tired to think properly now.