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I am used to the city life where everything is fast paced and everyone is always preoccupied. I learned to embrace the lifestyle, the people and the vices. That's the reason why my parents decided that I should spend the rest of my summer break at my grandparent's house. They knew for a fact that grounding me as a punishment will not work anymore. Of course this "vacation" is against my own free-will.
School was finally over and the summer break came. When I got home, I didn't get the chance to pack my things. My bag was already at the garage and my Dad did all the packing for me. He made sure that there was no liquor, cigarettes and even my gadgets like my cell, music player and portable console. I felt deserted. I'd be living in a prison and boredom for the rest of the break.
After the long trip, we finally arrived at our ancestral house. It's more like a museum to me than a house. Trinkets from World War II, because my grandfather was a veteran, were all over the place. Everything looks freaky, as if I came back to the era. What made it spookier are the big paintings and murals displayed. I hoped my imagination would not get the better of me.
It was almost dinnertime when we got there. The caretaker took my bags and escorted me to my room. My grandmother told me to come down as soon as I changed my clothes because supper was almost ready. When I saw the big wooden bed, I immediately jumped on it and exhaustion made me fall asleep easily.
I woke up because of a loud knock outside the room. Thinking it was the caretaker, calling me to have dinner downstairs; I just yelled that I'll go down soon. But he bashed the door again. Irritatingly, I checked who it is. Nobody was there. I just decided to go to the dining room anyway to catch up with grandma.
It was only the three of us in the house so most of the lights were off since nobody would use the rest of the place anyway. We were quietly eating when I heard footsteps at the room right above us. My grandmother saw the way I reacted so she told me that I should not be scared because that was just my grandfather. With that, I told my grandmother that I should be heading for the sheets by now because the trip made me feel so tired. I got scared of course, but I just didn't let them notice that I was.
Back at the room where I was staying, I was looking outside the window when I heard the same bash at the door that woke me a while ago. I rushed to see who it is only to find some muddy boot prints walking away from the door. I followed the boot prints and they lead me to the room where we heard the footsteps earlier. I'm already chilled to the bone and covered in gooseflesh. I went inside the room and everything looked normal except for one thing. The diary that my grandfather owned, where he wrote all the struggles of a soldier's life, was turning the page on its own, one by one.
I almost peed in my pants and ran as fast as I could to where my grandmother was. I told her what happened and she just laughed at me. She said that it was just my grandfather trying to scare me, or at least trying to welcome me to their mansion.
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