Kristal Shanahan resides in Kansas with her husband of nearly 20 years and their two daughters, ages 17 and 26. She has loved reading and writing since early childhood. As a tween, she read Firestarter by Stephen King which ignited her love of the horror genre.
She is a high school English Language Arts teacher and certified in Special Education. She will also hopefully be teaching a creative writing class with an emphasis on suspense in short stories next school year.
Kristal recently started a Bookstagram account on Instagram and the focus is primarily horror for the time being. She is actively networking and has increased her involvement with the horror community while joining the Horror Writers Association.
While Kristal has not attempted to publish any of her works yet, she is currently writing a novella and a collection of thematic horror inspired short stories which will hopefully be published next year. Connect with Kristal right HERE.
WHY GRANDPA, WHY?
by
Kristal Shanahan
I bent over my grandpa’s gravestone as I placed the carefully chosen roses in the vases on both sides. I spoke softly to the man who raised me, “Until next week Grandpa.” It’s been two weeks since my grandpa’s mysterious death. Wiping away my tears on my worn sleeves, I remembered how he used to be my best friend in life until he did something terrible. Tears slowly crept out of the corner of my eyes again. As I stood up, I spoke my quiet goodbyes. Soon, closure would be needed while one more visit remained as far as I was concerned.
I sighed loudly and moped off to join my friends waiting for me in the car near the old cemetery’s entrance. On the way, I repeat my mantra to myself about staying strong. I took a deep breath as I got in the car with my friends and we drove away like hounds from Hell.
As dusk approached, I was dropped off by my friends at work since my car was in the shop. Being the graveyard shift disc jockey for the local rock station means I will have to drink my weight in coffee. Going with a big thermos like the one my grandpa used daily while working his farm was the only way to drink the hot, brown, liquid joy.
Sitting down to work, I rolled back too fast, my chair hit the bookshelf behind me and a dusty old black book fell on the floor before me. I gingerly gripped the heavy book and placed it in front of me as I was about to go on air. Queued up is “Symphony of Destruction ” by Megadeth, and “Fade to Black” by Metallica. I will never work for a top 40 station. I nearly dry-heaved just thinking about it.
While I listened to the music, I opened the old dusty book and sneezed while some of the dust from the cover scattered. Looking at the page that was open in front of me, I thought, this looks like a spell book and laughed. I stared at the book quizzically and leaned my head back and sighed. What complete utter shit, I thought. I set the book on the counter next to the window and glanced outside. By this time, it was nearly 3:00 a.m. As I peered at the early morning night sky, I thought I saw what looked like a hand clinging to a tree across the street, but then it was gone. I am scaring myself, this is ridiculous.
I chalked it up to being tired and my imagination playing tricks on me. The new playlist starts, and I relax. I finished my coffee and the last two hours of the shift, then caught an Uber home.
***
One week later down to the hour, I was back at the cemetery looking down at what has become of my grandpa. I saw two of my guy friends waiting for me near a bench. I thought I would ask them to say a few words of remembrance since they all knew my grandpa. Jogging up to my friends, I trip on a small pothole in the cemetery pathway. As I stumble, the black book falls out of my backpack. A beet red color flushes my cheeks as I try to justify having the book.
“Hey I found this crazy book at work and I was taking it back for tonight's graveyard shift,” I nervously stated.
“Um, ok what the fuck is it Ryan?” Seth laughed in a flirty tone.
I spoke softly to Seth. “I don’t really know what it is. I do think it’s really creepy though.”
I just started walking back over towards my grandpa.My friends Seth and Corbin trudged slowly, dragging their feet to join me. By the time they were with me, they started off saying a few kind things about my grandpa. I had hoped that what was said wouldn’t cause me an emotional breakdown.
“Ok, thanks guys...um, we have time before I have to get to work, can we just sit here and chill? I want to be with my grandpa, because I'm not sure that I will return.”
“Ryan, no offense, but it’s a little creepy here. Can we hang out for just a few minutes?” Seth begged with the feeling of dread that seemed to cling to him.
“Ugh, fine,” I said with obvious exasperation.
Corbin stayed silent. We plopped down on the cool ground by the tree close to the grave.
“Ryan, any ghost stories in that book of yours?” Seth was hoping to be entertained so he could forget the fact that his skin crawled with goosebumps, and paranoia was quickly setting in.
I got comfortable where my grandpa now rests. Stillness surrounded us as darkness fell. Getting out our flashlights and handing them out was a surprise to them. I asked that they turn them on. Planning this without telling my friends was intended to be a Halloween treat. I began to read the passage:
“Things will change, but you will know. That life on the nether side will grow,With evildoers that you will befriend,Get started on your journey, you have until night’s end.”
Corbin and Seth looked at each other in shock because they noticed a figure in the distance shrouded in darkness and shadowed by the trees. I was mumbling to myself as I was preoccupied putting everything back in the backpack.
As I looked down, the ground began to tremble by me and crack wide open unearthing my grandpa! Corbin and Seth quickly ran in the opposite direction towards the car. The rotten corpse reached up with a malevolent grip of death and began dragging me below into the underground depths. As I started to succumb to suffocation underground, I slowly descended into Hell. I was able to cry out for the last time, “Why Grandpa, why?”