Part 1 here: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/uwbrd8/i_heard_my_grandfather_speak_to_me/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share
For legal reasons, I am just now able to tell part 2 of the story. As of right now, this is all the information the police have allowed me to release. I will send another update once permitted.
The police arrived maybe 15 minutes after I dialed 911. My parents were nowhere to be found. My dad’s Jeep wasn’t in the driveway. Two officers approached me. A sheriff, who introduced himself as Sheriff Brown, and another officer, who said her name was Officer Harris. Sheriff Brown asked questions while Officer Harris took notes in a pocket sized notepad.
“What did you see down there?” The cop asked me.
Immediately the images flashed in my brain. The blood. The crimson liquid of life. There was so much blood. Blood on the floor. On the walls. There were even small splatters on the ceiling. But it wasn’t dried blood. It was fresh. It wasn’t plastered onto the surfaces of the room like blood sitting in a house that had left untouched for over a year should have been. It was wet. Fresh blood.
And the chair. The chair. It sat there. Dripping with blood. Waiting patiently. Eager for what I can only assume was its next victim.
Then there was the picture. A picture representing one of the worst evils mankind had ever known. Painted on the wall was a Swastika, the symbol of the Nazis.
I told them what I saw. The look of disbelief on their face upset me. I know what I saw. I know I’m not crazy. I know the officers could see the scars on my arms from self harm, but it had been months since that. I was on meds now. I was stable.
“Did you see anyone down there with you?” Sheriff Brown asked.
“No, I don’t think so, I don’t know. It was really dark and I couldn’t see much. I- I’m s-s-sorry.” I choked out the words. As I finished my sentence I felt the tears flow from my eyes. I started sobbing.
The sheriff put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, there’s no need to cry. You’re safe now. We’re here.” His reassuring words did little to calm me. But he had a calm voice. Gruff and scruffy, but soft and gentle. I looked up into his eyes. I could tell he knew how I felt. He too knew what true fear felt like.
“I’m sorry, I’m just so scared,” I mumbled softly.
“It’s oka-“ The sheriff’s words were cut off by a bone-chilling, blood-curdling scream. It came from inside the house. We looked towards the house to find another officer running out the front door.
The cop ran towards us. “Sheriff… Officer Neil.. he’s.. he’s dead.”
The sherrif drew his pistol from its holster and looked at Officer Harris. “Let’s go.” Officer Harris drew her weapon and they headed towards the house.
The other cop sat down next to me. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Brooks,” He replied solemnly.
“What did you see down there?” I was eager to find answers. I wanted to know what the hell was going on.
“We were searching the workshop. All of a sudden Neil screamed. I turned around to find a knife sticking out of his neck. When I looked around, there was nothing. No one. I turned and ran. Oh my god… Neil… my partner. 8 years…”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Just then Officer Brooks’ radio went off. “This is Sheriff Brown, requesting immediate backup and an ambulance at 703 Washington Lane. We have an officer down.”
“10-4. Backup is on it’s way.”
A few moments later, Sheriff Brown and Officer Harris emerged from the house. They were carrying Officer Neil. They set him down gently in the grass. Sheriff Neil placed 2 fingers on his neck. After a few seconds, he looked up at Officer Brooks. “Well, he’s not dead. Yet.”
Backup arrived shortly after. The ambulance pulled up and the EMT’s got out and loaded Officer Neil onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, then quickly sped away. 4 police cars drove up shortly after.
8 officers stepped out from the vehicles and gathered around Sheriff Brown. “Listen up. We need to set up a half mile perimeter around this house. Nothing gets in or out. We don’t know who or what we’re looking for, but they should be considered armed and dangerous. Officer Brooks, take Jordyn down to the station for further questioning. Officer Harris, you’re with me.” Sheriff Brown turned to me. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, kid. I promise.”
The officers piled into their cars and drove off. Officer Neil walked me over to his car and we got in. On the way to the station, he stopped at a nearby McDonald’s and got us some food. My food order and the words “thank you” were the only words spoken the entire ride.
When we got to the station, they put me in a room. I ate my food and sat quietly. A few moments later, an officer came in. “We need you to contact your parents so we can notify them of what happened.”
I nodded and got up from the table. The officer walked me over to a phone and I dialed my mom’s number. “Hey mom, it’s me.”
“Jordyn, is everything okay? We’re almost home. Your father and I ran to Walmart for a couple of things.”
“I’m fine mom. Listen, I’m down at the police station. You need-“
My mom cut me off. “What happened? Are you in trouble?
“No, I’m not in trouble. Something happened. I can’t tell you right now, I don’t have time. Just come down to the police station and I’ll tell you everything.” I hung up the phone. The officer walked me back to the room and left me there.
After a while, another officer came in and sat down. “Hi, I’m Officer Pickens. I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s okay.” He set a large yellow legal pad on the table and produced a ballpoint pen from his pocket. He clicked the pen and said, “So, tell me what happened. From the beginning.”
I told him everything. About my PC. About the whispering. About the workshop. About Officer Neil. About the scream. All of it. Once again, I got that look of disbelief. And once again, I saw the officer eye the scars on my arms.
The officer took notes as I told my story. Once I finished, he looked up at me. “ Well, that’s quite a story. I have everything I need as of right now. Once your parents get here I’ll come back so we can file an official report. Thank you for your time.”
I looked down at the trash from my McDonald’s. “You’re welcome,” I mumbled. No one believed me. I know they didn’t. It pissed me off. Just because I have scars on my arms from self harm doesn’t mean I’m completely bat shit crazy. I don’t see things. I don’t hallucinate. And while I understand how far fetched the story seems, there are some things about it you can’t explain by “this is a mentally ill person trying to get attention.” What about Officer Neil? How do you explain that?
I put my head in my hands. I was lost in my thoughts. I wanted to cry. My brain tried to make sense of everything, but it couldn’t. This move was supposed to be good for us. For my family. It was supposed to be a fresh start, a way for us to get away from that small town in Ohio and everything we went through there. My family and I had worked hard through my high school years to get me stable and make our dysfunctional family functional again. Dad quit drinking. Mom quit using. I quit my drinking and using. The 3 of us, recovering addicts, to have a fresh start. But now this.
My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. I looked up and saw my mom and dad, accompanied by Officer Pickens. My mom rushed over to me, hugging and kissing me. “Are you okay? What happened? What’s going on?” She rapid fired all the questions a concerned mother would. She started crying.
Officer Pickens interrupted her. “Please, there will be time for a family reunion once this is over. But right now, if what your child is saying is true, we have a possible killer on the loose.”
“Of course, Officer.” My parents sat next to me and Pickens sat across us. This time, he had a vanilla file folder with the words “ANDERSON POLICE REPORT FILE, CONFIDENTIAL” and a police emblem printed on it. He opened it and took out a bunch of papers. He gave me a pen and started filling out paperwork, then giving it to me to sign and date.
My mom had all sorts of questions for Pickens. He ignored most of them, or offered short, one or two word responses to them. My dad was silent. He sat there, his hands folded on the table and his lips pursed.
After what seemed like hours of paperwork, we had finished. Officer Pickens had gathered some general information about my parents and I, and took an official report of my story. He closed the file and looked up at us. “On behalf of the Anderson Police Department, I’d like to thank you for your time and patience today. Let me talk to some folks and we’ll see about getting you out of here.”