down to us. As you might expect, we did not relish this duty. My grandfather remained a sullen, haunted man, but he caused us no trouble, so we maintained the responsibility without protest. We even made a competition of it eventually—the loser, inevitably, being the one required to visit our grandfather.
“In those years, my grandfather had taken to sleeping downstairs. It was accepted that he was of an age where stairs posed an unreasonable challenge. I, however, had not forgotten the terror that I experienced in that cupboard and believed, if matters came to it, that I too would make any excuse necessary to avoid sleeping upstairs.
“On the final day of my tale I arrived at my grandfather’s house to find a terrible sight awaiting me: his body lay, broken, at the foot of those stairs. He was unquestionably dead. The final report, in its wisdom, concluded merely that he had fallen down the stairs and had suffered a fatality in that process.
“What no report could adequately convey was the state in which I found him. The man was as white as a sheet. His face … well, let me say that I have never again witnessed such fear etched upon another person’s face. It spoke of an all-consuming terror that I myself had experienced once before, also in that house.
“Of further note was my grandfather’s position at the foot of those stairs. I acknowledge the dictates of gravity, but it appeared as though he must have fallen backwards from the upper level, as if he were facing something at the top of the stairs. His hands and, to an extent, his arms remained clasped over his face, as if to shield his eyes from some terrible sight.
“The coroner additionally reported bruising in the area of my grandfather’s chest, presuming it to have been incurred during the course of the fall. I never had opportunity to observe this bruising, but I retain a suspicion that it would have corresponded roughly to the size and shape of a person's hand.
“Initially fearing that a potential assailant could still be in the house, and being of a spirited age, I took myself up the stairs to face off any villain that might be trying to conceal himself.
“I stopped upon reaching the top step. I had put the memories of my experience in those upper rooms somewhat behind me, only for them to resurface at that moment. But it was nothing more than memories that returned: any feelings of terror were entirely absent. I went from room to room, challenging that irrational fear to return—even stepping inside the infamous cupboard—but there was nothing. No assailant. No fear. Those rooms were empty. It felt as though something had been lifted from that place. It felt, indeed, as if this particular chapter had reached its conclusion.
“And so, for my final note, I will share a detail missing from the official report into my grandfather’s death, but one that nonetheless occupied the private discussions of my surviving family members. Those who had occasion to review the report were struck by one particular aspect: the manner of my grandfather’s passing matched, in all respects, the manner in which his wife had also departed this earth.
“In the end, once the old man had gone, even those chatterings also ceased. There was a common view that the dead had finally been allowed to rest in peace, and that we should do our part to leave it so.”
After that, Martin, satisfied with his performance, prepared to take his leave. I cannot recall any other occasion upon which he related a tale of terror to us, but I am glad to confess that I have never forgotten the one time he did.
He stood up, bowed his head and, before opening the door, said to us: “Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure and a catharsis to share this tale to you. I have given the details as I know them. I now leave you to draw your conclusions as you see fit. The dead await us all, in the end.”
And with that, he was gone.
— THE END —
The Eighth Passenger
There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
Graves
One
The Safety Dance
The Pumpkin Eater
The Last Laugh
Strawberries
The Christmas Guest
Bunnies
Colder Still
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