The Fear-Inspiring Granny Room

By Elton Camp

It was what would now be called a “blended family.” That expression didn’t exist
in 1955 when this incident took place. Milas had children with Miranda, his first wife.
Belle, his second wife, had a child by her deceased mate. Together the couple had
children. All of them were grown, married, and on their own. Never had there been a
general family reunion.

“If we’re ever goin’ t’ git together, hit needs to be soon,” Bertha, the oldest
daughter, insisted. “We’re all livin’ now, but when we start t’ go, hit might b’ fast.”

The big event was scheduled for a Saturday at the home place. Each family was
to bring food so that the burden didn’t fall on Belle to cook for such a large crowd. The
table in the formal dining room was covered with a dingy, lace cloth. It practically
groaned under the weight of the feast. Brown leak circles on the ceiling were jarring flaw
in the old-fashioned decor.

Initially, ten of the eleven children showed up for the all-day event. A gang of
grandchildren were in attendance, some willingly and others under parental compulsion.

“I allow thet Albert won’t be comin’,” Bertha said. “I asked him ’bout hit, ’n’ he
said thet he mought. But y’u know how put upon he feels.”

A quick trip the few miles to his house was required for two of his brothers to
persuade the oldest child to complete the reunion. The “black sheep” of the family, he
blamed his father for his many problems. The younger children had been born after his
departure from the home. It was the first time ever that all eleven had been together in
the same room at the same time. It was such an occasion that Pace Photography Studio
was summonsed to take pictures.

Several spent the night at the home place, but as had always been the case,
nobody slept in what was known as the “Granny Room.”

At the end of the hallway lurked the Granny Room. It was the smallest of the four
bedrooms. A half-bed was forced against the left wall, a chest-of-drawers stood against
the right. A ceramic receptacle with single bare bulb, controlled by a pull chain, was
centered on the ceiling. The blown bulb had remained so for nearly a decade. Belle was
afraid to stay the room long enough to make the replacement and nobody else seemed to
care. A ragged, brown throw rug lay at an angle alongside the bed. The only window
opened toward the back yard. Faded, dusty curtains covered it so thickly that little light
penetrated. The room had a musty, closed-up odor found only in a house not in use.
Except for spots of black mold, the horizontal boards of the walls were the same dark
green they’d been on the long-ago day when Granny Duvall died.
 Not a soul had slept in the room for over twenty years. Few had entered it. The
door was habitually kept shut, invariably so at night. The Granny Room was a place of
dread among family, especially the grandchildren.

Most of the adults scoffed as they made brave statements. “I’m not a bit afraid of
that room.” “Nothing’s gonna bother you in there.” “It’s just a bedroom like any other.”
“Don’t be a coward.” “There’s nothing to worry about.” “I don’t believe Belle’s wild
tales.”

But, one and all, they declined to sleep there during family visits. “The couch is
more comfortable.” “I’ll just stay in the room with my sister.” “It’s crowded. I’ll sleep
in the barn.” “It’s such a hot night. Think I’ll take the daybed on the back porch.” “A
pallet on the living room floor will be fine.”

Belle was no longer even moderately attractive as she had been in her youth. Her
yellowing, gray hair stuck out in all directions. Decades of exposure to the sun had
imparted a leathery look to her wrinkled skin. Glasses with thick lenses made her eyes
appear overly large. She wasn’t fat, but her abdomen protruded, its muscles weakened
from child bearing. Inexpensive dentures gave an abnormal bulge to her lips. Make-up
had never touched her face. She owned no jewelry. Belle had been a hard-working,
often unappreciated, presence for many years. Most seemed to take her for granted.

Fifteen-year-old Bernie was the only grandson spending the night. Several
granddaughters shared the middle bedroom with its four double beds. He was assigned
Junior’s room for the night. The youngest, he had been the last child at home, so his
room remained as it had always been.

“It’s next door to the Granny Room. You won’t be afraid, will you?” his mother
asked. “If you are, you can sleep on a pallet on the floor in the living room with us.”

“Tell me again what they say about that room?”

He’d heard a vague story about it, but the details became important only now that
he’d be sleeping with only a thin wall between his room and the feared place.

“Oh, there’s nothing to it, of course,” his mother explained. “It’s the room where
Belle took care of her mother, Granny Duvall, for a few years. Granny died in that room.
Afterwards, Belle said that she saw a casket floating in it. She claims to have seen it
several times over the years, but we know that’s impossible.”

“Then why won’t anybody sleep there?” Bernie asked.

“Why, Leon has slept there a time or two and absolutely nothing happened.”

She had no idea if her brother-in-law actually had slept in the room, but believed
the idea would reassure her son.
 Bernie didn’t want to be thought a wimp, didn’t believe in the supernatural, and
certainly didn’t want to spend the night on a hard floor. “Sure, I’m not afraid. I’ll stay in
Junior’s room.” He came to rue his decision.

Junior’s room was small, but cozy. When he was dressed for bed, Bernie clicked
off the overhead light. Enough light entered from the window that he could easily see to
move about. He was glad that it wasn’t totally dark. The bed was comfortable with
clean-smelling sheets and three flowered quilts. It quickly became a warm cocoon on the
cool night. As he was about to drift off into sleep, there came a rasping, grating sound
from the direction of the Granny Room.

Instantly alert, Bernie pushed the covers off his chest and sat up. The sound
repeated again and again with only seconds of delay. He felt his heart begin to beat faster
and harder. As he prepared to leap out of bed and run, he recognized the sound.

“It’s nothing but a mouse chewing inside the wall,” he thought. “I’ve heard that
exact sound in the barn at home. There’s nothing to be afraid about.”

Bernie pulled the cover up around his neck as he lay down again. The persistent
sound continued. Despite what logic told him, the unfamiliar surroundings and proximity
to the Granny Room proved unnerving. After a couple of hours, he remained wide-
awake although tired from the activities of the long day. Each time he opened his eyes,
he automatically turned and stared at the wall separating him from the Granny Room. He
realized that he’d remain sleepless the entire night.

“I’m gonna get some good out of this,” he thought. “Those girl cousins of mine
should be easy targets.”

Bernie eased out of bed, pulled loose the white top sheet, and wrapped it loosely
around his body and over his head so that only a small vertical slit remained so he could
see. Cautiously slipping into the hallway, he reached back and turned the doorknob so
that it wouldn’t make a click as he shut his bedroom door. He was in arm-length of the
closed door of the fearsome Granny Room. He placed his hand on the knob, but
hesitated. In seconds, his resolve returned and he pulled it outward and slipped inside. It
was darker than Junior’s room, but enough light penetrated for him to jerk the quilt that
covered the single bed halfway to the floor. Bernie struggled to stifle a cough from the
fog of dust. He gently laid a cane-bottom chair on its side and slid the top drawer of the
chest partly out. The room looked sufficiently disheveled for his purpose.

He stepped back into the hallway and crept cautiously toward the bedroom
occupied by his cousins. The rough boards felt cool under his bare feet. No matter how
slowly he eased forward, repeated squeaks came from the old floorboards. From the
front of the house arose distant sounds of snoring. From his cousins’ room emanated a
combination of scents of powder, perfume, and hair spray. Bernie wrinkled his nose and
frowned.
 Bernie Slips Down the Hallway

“Owwww, owwwww,” he cried mournfully as he stepped through the open door.

He imitated the sound of a crazed old woman as best he could. Bernie repeated the
plaintive call twice more until his cousins began to arouse.

“What’s that?” one of them shouted as she caught sight of Bernie encased in the
sheet. Her exclamation aroused the others and they began to scream frantically.

With a final moan, Bernie darted into the hallway and made a mad dash for the
Granny Room. He slung the opened door with a resounding bang against the wall of the
hallway. Quickly, he jumped into Junior’s room, roughly slid the sheet into place, leaped
into bed, and closed his eyes. He tried to lie still, but shook with barely controlled
laughter at the sounds of alarm.

Chaos reigned in the house as his cousins screamed for help. One of them sobbed
hysterically. The ado brought the parents stomping down the hall, demanding an
explanation as they converged on the girls’ room.

“A horrible, moaning ghost came right into this room,” one of them said. “We all
saw it, didn’t we girls?”

She got a chorus of frightened agreement from her cousins. They tumbled out of
bed and embraced their parents for comfort.

“Then we heard a loud noise from toward the Granny Room. I bet it was her,”
she quaked. “I never want to sleep in this horrible house again.”

Although suspicious that it’d been nothing but a dream, the parents ganged in
front of the entrance to the Granny Room as the terrified girls stood behind them.

“Look at that,” Iduma shrieked. “That door’s always been shut at night ever since
Granny died.”

Leamon, who considered himself to be above superstition, turned on the hallway

light. He boldly stepped into the partially lit room. When he jerked the chain on the
ceiling light, it wouldn’t come on. When he detected the disorder, he made no comment.
The others remained in the hallway, but peered inside.
 “Everything’s all tore up,” Iduma said fearfully. “I tole maw they should’ve
moved out of this house years ago. Granny is mad because we all had a good time today
but she couldn’t take part. I just know it.”

In view of the loud talking, Bernie decided it was time that he must make an
appearance or else bring suspicion upon himself. He opened his bedroom door and
stepped into the hallway, rubbing his eyes as if he’d been asleep.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

He tried to look as innocent as possible, but it was a struggle for him to keep from
laughing at the gullibility of most of his relatives. The scheme was working even better
than he’d expected.

By that time, Bernie’s parents arrived from the living room where they’d been
asleep on a rollaway bed. After she learned of the scary episode, his mother caught his
eye for a second. Instantly, she knew he was the culprit and eased to his side.

“Get back in bed. We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” she whispered as she jabbed
his side sharply with her finger.

A measure of calm slowly returned, but nobody slept much for the rest of the
night. Bernie presumed that he’d be punished, but the fun had been well worth it.
Besides, he’d seen a hint of amusement in his mother’s eyes that told him she also found
it funny. Adults felt compelled to hide such feelings.

As he hoped, his mother didn’t reveal his culpability. The night’s events served
to increase apprehension about the Granny Room among some of the family. Even those
who attributed the events to overactive imagination by the girls had a particle of doubt.

“Hey, you never know,” one of them privately admitted when questioned about it.
“Granny was a strange old bird.”