Member-only story
When I was little, my Grandmother would tell me Scary Stories. The story she told me on my 5th birthday still makes me Sick.
Why would you tell a five-year-old such a bad story?
When I thought about my fifth birthday, this is the question I couldn't stop asking myself. I don't know the answer, though.
I guess I shouldn't be so shocked. It shouldn't have come as a surprise after hearing the other stories my grandmother told me when I was young.
The next thing I remember is the day I turned five. That day must have been buried deep inside me for years, because it took weeks of therapy to bring it to the surface...
"Grandma, will you tell me a story before bed?"
When I spoke, she stopped in her tracks. She was almost at the bedroom door. I did not want her to leave. Grandma had just put me to bed and turned off the lamp next to my bed when I felt scared.
Part of the reason was that my bedroom was so dark that I could barely see my stuffed animals sitting in a row on top of my desk. But the main reason was my new birthday present. The gift my grandmother got me. That was the pack of Monsters in My Pocket toys I'd opened downstairs. It wasn't my big gift. No. This was an extra gift. A surprise gift.
