Mum never believed that grandad came out of the vents at night even though she looked straight at him every time. She'd stare him dead in the eyes and say that he was dead and dead people can't come back. She said it every night and eventually he did stop coming back.
I miss his visits. He'd seep out of the vents all smoke-like and perch on the end of my bed to tell me stories about the war. I don't know which war he meant really, mum always said he was never in the army and he was too young to have been involved in the last world war.
Still he'd talk about strategy meetings that ran long into the night, holding your breath so the enemy couldn't see it in the cold winter air - he even taught me the quietest way to pop a door off its hinges. He never said who the enemy was though.
I figured it must be whatever killed him down in the basement. His body wasn't officially found there but I saw the scorched outline before mum suddenly decided to put thick carpet down there. The outline leaked through it though and even with that new couch she's put on top of it, you can still hear something bubbling and squishing if you sit down too hard.
Grandad hated the couch, said it made it harder for him to come out and visit me. I tried to tell mum but she wasn't having any of it. She just said he was buried and resting and that was final. There was no talking sense to her, not even when grandad waved to her on his way out.
The stain on the carpet is still there, though he doesn't come out any more.
I wonder if the enemy came back after all this time.
I wonder if he's finally at rest.
I miss his visits. He'd seep out of the vents all smoke-like and perch on the end of my bed to tell me stories about the war. I don't know which war he meant really, mum always said he was never in the army and he was too young to have been involved in the last world war.
Still he'd talk about strategy meetings that ran long into the night, holding your breath so the enemy couldn't see it in the cold winter air - he even taught me the quietest way to pop a door off its hinges. He never said who the enemy was though.
I figured it must be whatever killed him down in the basement. His body wasn't officially found there but I saw the scorched outline before mum suddenly decided to put thick carpet down there. The outline leaked through it though and even with that new couch she's put on top of it, you can still hear something bubbling and squishing if you sit down too hard.
Grandad hated the couch, said it made it harder for him to come out and visit me. I tried to tell mum but she wasn't having any of it. She just said he was buried and resting and that was final. There was no talking sense to her, not even when grandad waved to her on his way out.
The stain on the carpet is still there, though he doesn't come out any more.
I wonder if the enemy came back after all this time.
I wonder if he's finally at rest.
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