Grandmother's Secret

“Can you keep a secret?”

The old lady wore on her face a demented grin. Her eyes, dark blue, the colour of skies, was now a cold dead sea, brimming with madness that finally emerged from the depth of her mind. Her grin turned into a smile, and in that second, she bore a passing resemblance to the frenzied sharks of a geography documentary, that had surfaced from the deep to feast on the flesh of innocent people. But she was no wild animal, and in her eyes, there was a cold intelligence that all mortal men had.

If one were to stumble on her before this insane act, they would think of her an unassuming old lady, bringing forth to the conscious mind memories of kind grandmothers whose hobbies were knitting and baking, a good, traditional mother and wife whose sole reason of existence was to serve her retired old husband, and play nanny to her cute grandchildren. But now, all that was left is a lady, still strong despite her old bones, competent enough to drag her husband to the fireplace, and more then capable enough of ruthless slaughter. The sight of her would drive any layman into madness, unable to reconcile the image within their heads and the gory scene before them.

The entire living space was covered in the internal -and most likely external- organs of her once husband, the white rug now stained red, like red paint on a pristine white canvas. There was a clear red mark staining the marble floors of the grandmother’s house, a side effect of a body being dragged while still bleeding. The grandmother’s blouse was a mess of blood and gore, with bits of flesh clinging to the fabric like a bad remake of a butcher shop man that had just gutted a few cows and pigs. The grandmother’s knife dripped with red blood, and the image of it had the grandmother’s granddaughter standing still, her pale face contorted into an expression of horror and fear.

“Do you want to know a secret Dear?”

The grandmother slowly crept towards her, feet shuffling in a lethargic way, like a zombie corpse that had just risen from the grave. To the little girl, 9 years of age, the scene was like a bad horror movie scene, lacking any grace, but still shocking to the system. Her feeling of dread only grew as the grandmother inched her way slowly towards her, but she could not run away. The fear she felt was indescribable. In that moment there was not flight or fright, only the suffocating aura of madness and bloodlust that her grandmother was radiating pinning her in place, trapped like a small animal that had become the prey of a much larger predator.

There was no running, so to compensate, her body shuddered. Her lips trembled, her breathing laboured, her fingertips numb, pupils dilated with pure horror. She wanted to scream, to cry, but the look in her grandmother’s eyes told her a story of death, and she wished to play no part in it, so she stayed silent and still -as much as she could- and prayed to whomever that is listening that she might be saved from this hell.

Despite the slow crawl of her grandmother, to the little girl, it was like a blink of an eye. Her mind could no longer process the horror of the situation she was in, and time escaped her grasps. The grandmother lowered herself into a kneeling position, and inched her face towards her granddaughters’ ear, her demented smile growing in size, revealing bloodstained teeth, tiny flesh caught between the gaps of her incisors. The granddaughter’s heart skipped and leaped, bile slowly forcing its way through her throat, only to be denied freedom by the sheer fear that did not allow her to move, to react. Her death flashed before her minds eye, like a psychic vision of what is to come. She saw herself die in many, horrible ways, all in which she was alone and helpless against the demon her kind grandmother had become.

The old woman whispered an inaudible message to little girl’s ear. Every tremor within the child’s body seem to stop, as if hearing a secret that had changed her mind entirely. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth was agape, her nose flaring in an almost comical way. Snick!! Squelch!! The horrible sound of parting flesh filled the room, vibrating through the silence that had settled there previously after the murder. Tears flowed down the little girl’s face, and she wailed. But it wasn’t a reaction to pain, but rather, a reaction to release. For she was releases from the suffocating hell she was trapped within.

Her grandmother’s grip on her knife slacked, body relaxing, then dropping to the ground with a finite thud. Blood began pooling around her body, slowly covering the child’s toes in warm, dark red liquid. What was once wailing turned into laughter, which became hysterical after a few minutes. The scene which the police had stumbled on was like hell on earth. Their bones chilled to the core by the sound of hysterical laughter coming out of the child. This unnatural scene was made worse by the smile of the dead old lady laying in the pool of her blood, as if in worship of the child whose hysterical laughter sounded like a demonic screech.

The sound abruptly stopped as she noticed the stock-still presence of police officers standing behind her. She turned her body slowly towards them and did something that still haunted those officers till this day. The child slowly smiled, broken teary eyes lightening up with sorrow and adrenaline boosted fear. But what they did not notice was the mark that the grandmother had left. It was not a visible mark, but rather a stain the child’s soul. If one were to look deeper into her eyes, they would notice the seed of madness her grandmother had planted taking root within her. A seed that would one day, blossom into a beautiful, deadly flower, whose bloom would mask the poison within.

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Soon, years had passed, and the girl had now become a mother. She was a diligent mother, fully devoted towards her family and children. She had loved her son and daughter from their birth and will continue loving them even after death. But the scars of the pass doesn’t disappear quite easily and what madness had tainted, will never become clean again. The mother lived her entire life plagued by the trauma of her past, but her memory of the event had become foggy and unclear.

She had thought that by moving towns, going through intense therapy, seeking God, and becoming a devoted mother would help her cope, however, her madness had only taken root and became a ferocious plant, invading every corner of her mind, until her dreams had become her nightmare, and could not be separated from reality. It blended in, the phantasmagoria of nightmares that plagued her every living day.

It had been hell. Soon, she had found the love of her life, and he had chase away some of the nightmares. In gratitude, she bore him his children, a healthy son, and a beautiful daughter. Still, even that had merely halted the madness in her mind. She started to hallucinate worlds, colours, and the pit pat sound of blood dripping from her mother’s knife, coated in the essence of the once living grandfather. Her grandmother had become a demon that plagued her since her childhood, and if she thought back hard enough, she could still feel her younger self’s fear, intoxicating and suffocating at the same time, the all encompassing despair that hit her so strongly, she couldn’t move from her spot, trapped in her vicious flight and flight mode, body unable to decide which course of action to take. But what terrified her the most was the secret that she kept, deep within her heart, her mind, that haunts her during the transitions between day, that whispers from her fire place, that calls to her from the darkest corners of her home, and from that void within her psyche.

The mother stood in front of a body length mirror. Her hair was done in a tasteful hairdo, her body dressed in a beautifully embroidered white sleeveless dress, piercing blue eyes staring into an aging but youthful face, which bore her mother’s mother family’s bone structure, and her upturn nose, which followed her father’s side of the family. She caressed her own reflection, her eyes watered.

Tears fell from her face, mourning the innocence that she had lost from a young age. Shadows behind her shifted and flexed, gently touching her cheeks in response to her sorrow. Images began to distort, her reflection moving by its own, a frown stretched into a smile, then into an insane grin, teeth sharp as blades staring back at her face. Her heart pumped wildly, adrenaline rushing through every vein in her body.

She could feel her pulse flutter like the wings of a hummingbird, fingers flexing in response to her hallucination. She pulled back her hands, and with all her might, swung her fists. CRACKKK . The sound of shattered mirror soothed her madness for a little, calming it down to a manageable level. Her knuckles stung with the pieces of fractured mirror beneath her skin, but she refrained from removing them. The pain was exquisite to her, and it helped ground her to this world. She pulled back her lips into a snarl, baring her teeth to what was left of the mirror. This time she had won.

“Mom, are you okay? What was that noise?”

Her head snapped towards the direction of the voice, heart palpitating again. Her nose flared as she took in the smell of blood in her hands and picked up a large shard of glass. Her lips pulled back into a wide, mad smile, then exited the room in excitement, searching for her beautiful daughter. Her hands dripped with blood, staining the staircase with drops of crimson red liquid. She slowed down as she descended down the staircase. Her daughter had exited the kitchen to rush to her mother’s side after hearing the sound of shattered glass. She froze as she glimpsed her mother coming down from her room. Her white pristine dress contrasting with the blood on the side of it, a splash of red in white.

The daughter hurried to her mother’s side, worried that she might be hurt. Her mother looked at her beautiful daughter, and the madness abated as love combated emptiness. The mother hesitated, unsure with the emotions warring within her. The madness tightened its claws around her mind, baring its fangs to the world, hissing at the warmth of love that was coursing through her mind. She strengthen her grip on the glass shard, unable to bring herself to lift it up. Then, she had remembered her grandmother’s words.

The mother leaned on her frightened daughter’s shoulders and remembers. She remembers the pain, the horror, the sorrow, and the truth of her grandmother’s words. Madness gripped her harder, pulling her mind into darkness, but the warmth of love gave her purpose. Yes, she would go through hell for her daughter, and now, she will give her salvation. For the only way to be saved was through death, the eternal sleep, where time becomes meaningless. Death is the eternal release from the hell that is love, feelings, emotions, and this dirty, corrupt world. Truly, the madness wasn’t the enemy, it was the prophet which guides the chosen to truth.

Snickk

Her daughter gasps. The mother had parted her daughter’s flesh with her glass blade, slowly sinking in the shard into her heart. Blood began to pour from her wound, gushing out like a broken faucet. Her slow dimming eyes clouding over with confusion and horror. She could feel her heart being sliced bit by bit by the blade. She began to feel lightheaded, face becoming pale as death started to overtake her.

“Can I tell you a secret? There is nothing in this world but madness, and death is release. I love you so much my daughter, so take my love in you, and die”

The daughter shuddered, the world darkening and darkening until the void overtook her. Her body exhaled its last breath, and she died. Her mother grieved but was also overjoyed. Her daughter had found release and would never have to feel the pain of living ever again. She took out her blade and held it to her throat, shutting her eyes. She smiled one last time, but it was not a mad smile. Rather, it was a smile filled with joy and love. She had lived, had become a mother, had experienced all the world’s joy and sorrow, and now, she will die, finding eternal peace in death sleep. Her hand pulled, slitting the artery of her neck. Blood gushed out in large quantities, like a flowing river of rubies, pooling, mixing with her daughter’s. Her body thudded beside her daughter in the opposite direction, her fingertips touching her daughter’s hands, as if to mimic the hand holding of a mother and child.

Soon, death claimed her too, and so, brought an end to the darkness that flowed within the women of her mother’s line. This was the end of her, but the beginning of madness across the world. Men and women around the globe began committing murdering and committing mass suicide with their friends, family, and lovers. They too had found release in the eternal sleep of death. We can hide who we are, but we can never hide from out madness. For it is within all those who sleep, keeping a watchful eye over you as you live out your life. It is a constant companion, a mother, father, and child all in one. We can never run, so we just smile, and smile and smile.