It was a cold night in 1975. The rain poured endlessly, the wind howled, and the sky shook as if it wanted to scream. At midnight, my story began. I had no idea how I ended up in that place, but I remembered… it all started twenty-four hours earlier.
I was at home, alone, living a meaningless day like every other. I was twenty-four years old, graduated two years ago, but had done nothing with my life. No goals, no achievements—just a shadow passing through the world without leaving a trace.
Then came the news: my grandfather had died. I did not cry, I did not feel sad—he was never close to me, only appearing on rare occasions. Yet something strange pushed me to go.
The family was gone. No one remained but me and my grandfather. It was as if everyone else had vanished from the earth. I decided to see him one last time. I did not love him, but an unknown force told me my fate was tied to that place.
When I reached the village, the atmosphere was suffocating. Heavy rain, thick fog, and the sound of old houses groaning like they were alive. I stood before my grandfather's house, torn between fear and curiosity. A voice inside me screamed: "Don't enter!" but another, stronger one pushed me forward.
At nine in the evening, I slowly opened the door. The lights flickered, then died, then returned again. I stepped inside. Silence filled the house, not normal silence, but a silence so heavy you could almost hear it.
His clothes were thrown on the bed. I picked them up and hung them on the hanger, as if I wanted to erase his presence. I decided: tonight, I will sleep here. For the first time in years.
As I lay down, memories of him came back. My parents—before they were taken from me—used to tell stories about him. They said he was strange, always disappearing. Once, he vanished for ten whole years. During that time, my grandmother raised me.
He returned eventually, but they always whispered: "The one who came back wasn't the same man."
What unsettled me more was that I could not remember his scent. His clothes were here, but they carried no trace of him, as if my memory itself refused to keep him. Or maybe… he was never truly my grandfather.
One day, I asked my father:
— "Why didn't anyone ask about him when he disappeared?"
He replied:
— "Because no one liked him. The whole village hated him."
— "Why?"
— "For things he did in the past… you'll understand later."
That confused me even more. How could my parents speak of him kindly while everyone else despised him? Was he good once and then changed, or was he never good at all?
The next morning, I tried to leave. But something strange happened. There was no transport, no way out. The internet was gone, electricity kept failing, and every road I took led me back to the same place. The village itself seemed to trap me, forcing me to stay.
What I didn't know then was that this wasn't just a secret about my grandfather. It was the beginning of something from another world.
That night, hungry and exhausted, I searched the house for food. Nothing. No water, no bread. How did my grandfather live here? Ignoring the question, I stepped onto the balcony to calm myself.
Suddenly, the sky turned red. Strange sounds echoed around me. I looked at the houses—they were gone. The village had vanished, leaving behind only a barren desert. My heart stopped. I whispered: "I seek refuge in God from the devil."
I ran inside, trembling, and collapsed in a corner. Darkness swallowed me, and I fainted.
When I woke, sunlight broke through the cracked ceiling. The walls were crumbling. I told myself it was just a dream—until I looked outside. The desert was gone, replaced by endless fields of strange green plants I had never seen before.
I searched the entire area for people. No one. Hours passed, my hope faded, and I returned to the ruined house. In the corner, I clung to the memory of my cat, the only creature that had ever felt closer to me than any human.
As I sat there, strange voices rose around me. My instincts screamed danger. I rushed into an old wooden wardrobe and hid. I didn't know why, but it felt safe. My instincts had warned me before, but this was stronger, heavier.
Through a crack in the wardrobe, I saw it… something entering. It looked like my grandfather, but it wasn't him. His body was huge, unnatural, half-human, half-something else.
Thank God the roof was broken, otherwise the house would have collapsed under its size.
I couldn't handle it. The darkness returned, swallowing me once again. I fainted—whether from fear or hunger, I could not tell.