I was hiking in the woods when I found a burlap sack with the name ‘Grunhilda’ written on it with black marker.
Now before I tell you anything else, you need to know that I am a huge horror fan who occasionally shouts at the television or the books I’m reading whenever the main character does something stupid: Splitting up, hiding instead of running, running instead of attacking, etcetera.
So there’s no way someone like me would have opened this seemingly empty sack, right?
Well, I wish I could say that was true. At the time I figured that life isn’t a horror movie and such ideas were foolish.
So I opened it.
Nothing jumped out or said “boo” or anything so I laughed at myself for even allowing myself to consider something bad would happen.
I inspected the inside of the bag that was the size of a purse and other than some sand, like the kind you couldn’t help but to bring back with you from the beach, the bag seemed to be clean and in good quality.
At the time I just figured someone dropped in on their hike, and since finders keepers losers weepers, I decided to take it home with me.
Returning home, I put the bag on a bench in the entry room, greeted my cat Ginger and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Once I got out and dried off, I went to feed Ginger. However, unlike every other time I opened a can of cat food, Ginger was nowhere to be seen.
Hours later, when it was dark outside and I still did not see any sign of my cat, I grew worried.
I usually go to sleep at about ten or ten thirty, but that night I couldn’t until after midnight. The sounds of coyotes aren’t uncommon where I live and hearing them made my mind wander. What if Ginger managed to get outside and the coyotes killed him?
When I finally did sleep, my dreams were plagued by nightmares. In these dreams a naked and pale woman with loose fitting skin, covered in sweat and her own sickness was abusing Ginger by tearing tufts of hair off of him by the handful or breaking one of his bones. Every whine that came from Ginger gave the woman a childlike glee.
When I woke up I chalked the dreams up to stress and dedicated the rest of the morning looking for Ginger. However I was not able to find him in any of his usual hiding spots.
I set up flyers all over town that afternoon and kept checking my phone in hopes that someone would call.
Over the next few weeks I was too worried to sleep and when I managed to catch a few winks, my nights would be plagued with nightmares that featured that woman abusing Ginger. During the day I would see a blur in the corner of my eye, darting from one shadow to the next. At first I thought this was the result of my sleep deprived imagination, but once the shadow caused a pile of dirty dishes to crash to the floor I knew whatever I was seeing was real.
For reasons I could not explain, images of the bag I found with the name Grunhilda written on it returned to my mind.
Worried sick about Ginger and having exhausted all other options, I tried talking to Grunhilda on the off chance it was a real entity. If anyone saw me doing this they would have thought I was insane and I wouldn’t be able to blame them. After all, I felt crazy while doing it.
That night, after I went to bed, I woke up and saw a small silhouette in a pool of moonlight in the middle of the floor.
“Ginger?” I asked as I wiped sleep from my still adjusting eyes.
“No,” a terrible voice answered. The voice sounded as though it came from pus filled lungs and a decayed throat. When I tried reaching for the lamp next to my bed, the shadow hissed terribly. “Keep the light off if you know what’s good for you.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m thankful.”
“Thankful?”
“That you released me from that prison. For that, tell me what you want and if it’s in my power I will do it.”
It took a while before I spoke.
“Are you Grunhilda?”
“I am.”
“Are you a demon or something?”
The shadow made a sound I never want to hear again. It was supposed to be a laugh but the result was distressing on a spiritual level. When she was finished laughing, she spoke impatiently. “No. Now tell me what you want.”
“I want Ginger back.”
“That I cannot do.”
“Why?”
Grunhilda grew silent for a moment that stretched for what felt like minutes.
“I had to restore my strength. I was contained for so long that I grew weak. Now what do you want? A new cat? Is that it?”
“You’re a monster” I cried.
That was when Grunhilda stood up. She was maybe three and a half feet tall and her arms were far longer and skinnier than they should have been. Her belly was large and bloated and reminded me of starving children in Africa.
“I consider myself to be many things. A monster is not one of them. Now tell me what you want” she hissed slowly.
Shaking with fear, I told her the first thing that came to mind. Upon hearing my answer she crouched on all fours and skittered away into the shadows.
I turned on the light to look for her, but she was gone.
Sleep did not come the rest of the night so I did what I could to search for Grunhilda, but as far as I could tell she had moved on.
If I knew someone who could’ve helped and wouldn’t have thought I was crazy I would have asked for their assistance. But other than checking myself into Goose Creek Sanitarium there wasn’t anywhere I could think of going.
Later the same day, after lunchtime, there was a knock on the door. I didn’t hear anyone coming up the driveway so I looked outside, however there was no car. While it is possible someone walked to my front door, it’s unlikely because I live in the middle of nowhere.
When I opened the door, there wasn’t anyone there. Instead, at my feet was a wicker basket covered with a small red quilt.
I was hesitant to look at what it contained, however when I pulled the small blanket back I saw a kitten. Even though I knew it was a gift from Grunhilda I did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, as soon as I saw its large anime-like eyes and its pink nose I fell in love with it.
Thankfully forgetting about Grunhilda was easier than I thought because the cat was a good distraction.
I named it Ox and for the first year he seemed normal.
However when something weird involving the cat happens around the house, repressed memories of Grunhilda will resurface.
The first odd thing I came across was when I found the fliers I put up all over town when I was looking for Ginger. While it was possible I printed off extra and forgot about them, there was no reason that I would have stashed them behind where the towels go.
On a few occasions I will come home from work and find candles lit, even though I live by myself and only ever light them when the power goes out.
Because of these things I started to pay closer attention to Ox. When he doesn’t think I am looking or paying attention, like when I am doing the dishes, he will bury small animals in the backyard. Other times when I pretend to watch television I will see Ox rotate his head like an owl.
The most common thing I will see Ox doing is sitting motionless while staring at me with its reflective eyes in the middle of the night. Something it will do for hours.
I need to get rid of this cat.
Does anyone want it?