Creepy - Day 4 - Dreams of Inheritance

Episode Date: October 4, 2020

So close....***Written by ShadowSwimmer77 and narrated by JV Hampton-VanSant***See your donation rewards podcast at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Music by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents the 31 days of horror. Day four. Dreams of Inheritance Written by Shadow Swimmer 77 and narrated. by J.V. Hampton Van Sant. I take the stairs two by two coming home from Granny's funeral. A witch they'd called her, the superstitious fools, so relieved at her passing,

they'd never thought to investigate its odd suddenness. Not that they would have found anything. The work done in a few moments with a thick pillow as she slept, her gnarled hands grasping at my wrists, ancient lungs struggling to capture the barest breath was hardly an effort and left no evidence of foul play. I reached the landing intent upon my prize, the treasure she kept locked in her room,

the old metal key that in life never left the cord about her neck now held in my hand. No fool myself, I had waited until sure I was overlooked for mischief before it, attempting to secure the wealth now rightfully, if treacherously, mine. I pause, wary. The door to Granny's room, the door I am sure I'd close before leaving for the churchyard, stands cracked open. Thieves, then, aware of the rumors of her great fortune and seeking my inheritance as their own, they'll have no chance without the key, and I'll not be handing that over.

I draw the small pistol from my pocket and edge silently down the hall. Bursting through the door ready to do violence, I stop, suddenly unsure. A figure sits in Granny's old rocker. It's back to me. But from where I stand, I can see a twilight. twisted hand clutching the chair arm, hear labored breathing crackling from its chest. A laugh, dry as snapping twigs or rattling bones, issued from a mouth of worn leather. The chair slowly begins to turn.

Abruptly, I awake, sprawled in my bed, tangled midst the sheets. The memory of the nightmare that my mind. must have woken me, was already fading from my brain. Granny calls from the next room the sound of her voice, causing an unbidden wave of disgust to issue from deep within my chest. Reflexively, my hands tightened upon my pillow and, reaching a decision I have long been considering. I rise from the bed.

my gaze fixed upon the door a smile threatens to tug at the corners of my lips the thought of wealth soon to be mine playing across the surface of my mind yet still as I creeped across the room I am plagued by the most nagging feeling that I have done this before for more information

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