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My great grandmother left me her home when she died. She was an old lady, about ninety three or so, when she passed away from ARDS (acute respiratory distress syndrome). It was surprising that she'd lived so long ,really. She'd had cancer since I was five or six, and I'm twenty nine now. I never really knew her much because she rarely left her house, and because of the fact that my mother didn't like her. She was my dad's grandmother, but he wasn't ever around. Always out working for a trucking company or something. All I really did know is that she was exceptionally wealthy.

So, when she left me her house in her will, let's just say I was surprised. I rolled my 1996 Nissan Sentra into the driveway of her house, and wasn't really surprised with its appearance. The house looked like it was a hundred years old, and I could smell that "old house" smell all the way from my car. I opened the door of my Sentra and got out. Then I proceeded to walk up to the porch of the old house, it was wooden and had thick boards slathered with paint that was chipped off and revealed the old two by fours underneath. When I made my way up to the door and turned the knob. I pushed open the door and peered inside.

It was dark inside, darker than I expected it to be. I slid my hand along the wall until I found the light switch and flicked it on. The lights in the kitchen flickered on, and I looked around inside. The walls had peeling wallpaper on them and everything smelled like I expected it to. I walked deeper into the house and tossed my madras ski jacket onto the table. I settled into the living room and sat down on the couch, it was old and smelled like shoe leather. But it was comfortable, extremely comfortable. I stretched out on the couch and turned the television on with an old remote. The television, which was one of those old ones with an antennae on it, flickered to life with a little bit of static. A black and white cartoon played on the television. But I changed channels to fast to see anything on it. I flicked around through the channels for a while until I finally found the news. I left the TV on while I went to get my bags.

It took me about half an hour to finally get settled in. After I did, I laid back on the couch and felt sleep begin to wrap around me like the loving arms of my mother and passed out on the couch. I woke up in a cold sweat after sleeping for what felt like ten minutes. I'd had a nightmare, I thought...It had to be a nightmare. When I was younger I always had them, and it wasn't a big deal. I thought I just outgrew them. But this one was oddly specific and weird.

It started with me walking down into the basement of the house I was in, and, finding my dying great grandmother there. She was...She was hooked up to a life support machine and had the signature beep of a heart monitor coming from her chest. My great grandmother rose her hand up at me, called out something I didn't quite hear. A light flashed in front of me and my grandmother was gone, replaced by a single leg bone on the bed she was laying in, and then I woke up. I dabbed my face with a dry rag after that and tried to fall back asleep. But I couldn't, I quite clearly wasn't going to be sleeping after that. So I don't know why I even tried, but I did. I felt like I was being watched when I left the living room, and heard a faint whispering going off in my ear every time I left the living room. I hadn't noticed it when I walked in, so I figured I was just hallucinating, but...It seemed real.

I tried fixing myself a hot pocket and stayed in the kitchen while it cooked. The whispering was slowly getting louder, or at least it seemed like it was. I...I don't know what come over me, but when I looked at the wallpaper. I began to, slowly but surely, slide an old knife out of the knife rack from beside me whilst the hot pocket continued to simmer. Like I was being controlled by some...force other than myself. I stabbed the knife into the walls and passed straight through the wallpaper. I stabbed again, and again, and again. I stabbed until there were at least one hundred holes in the wallpaper and it'd gotten lose. Then, I slid my hand into the hole I'd made that was the largest and tightened my fingers around a dry sphere in the wall. I jerked it out of the wallpaper and stared into its eyeless sockets. I'd pulled a skull out of the wall, a real...God it just makes me sick thinking about it.

I called the cops after that happened and they investigated the house. They told me they found at least thirty or forty complete human skeletons hidden in the walls and the crawlspace, and a "satanic ritual" site in the basement. I'd gotten off of at the wrong path on the way to my great-grandmothers house, and had invaded the house of a serial killer who lived two miles out of the woods. They didn't tell me much, and I never moved back into my great-grandmother's house. I sold her house to my parents the next month after I had this experience and moved out of the country cabin I had been living in.

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