01 Feb I asked my dying mom about death. Her answer still haunts me to this day.
ou can see ghosts, right? Does it make you less scared of death? I mean, you already know what’s actually waiting for you in the afterlife.”
I remember asking her these questions, perhaps because I knew her well enough, and I must say she wasn’t like any other moms out there.
Back when she was a kid, my mom and her siblings witnessed a lot of weird stuff in their house, mostly paranormal and spiritual. But there was one night that they just couldn’t forget.
The story revolved around their mother, my now deceased grandmother, who was born with an extraordinary psychic ability. She had some kind of strange connection between this world and the world she believed spirits lived in. My mom described it as a bridge to the other side, which was part of her job as a medium back then.
Unfortunately, when crossing that bridge too many times, evil spirits could use her body to get to our world, but that wasn’t as terrifying as what they did to her in return.
That night my grandmother wasn’t being herself, not at all. All her children were strictly told to stay inside my mom’s bedroom while the ritual was being carried out.
Although there were amulets in that room to protect them, the kids couldn’t fall asleep. Under the dim light of an old lantern, as they cuddled together in fear, the thing their mother talked about began to announce its presence on the wall.
My mom was the first to see it. She noticed a shadow that looked like one giant arm and hand. The fingers were long and thin like branches. With sharp, pointy nails piercing deep into the wall, it made a scraping noise as the hand slowly moved across from one side to the other.
No matter what this thing is, my mom knew it was outside and just wanted to get in. All of them heard the same noise coming from the wall, which then gradually faded away as well as the shadow. Silence filled the entire room again, but still, they stayed up until morning.
At the end of the ritual, my grandmother remained unconscious, but after a few hours, she woke up with her children being the first thought that came into her mind. So she rushed to their room to check if they were alright, then they all hugged each other in relief.
That thing left five scratches on the wall, visible from the outside, one for each finger, and too large to be from human or any kind of animal.
“Do you remember grandma’s story?” My mom asked me while holding my hands.
“That morning when your grandma hugged me, I never felt like that before.” She said.
“What did it feel like?”
She began to squeeze my hands, and at that point, I could almost feel her fingernails piercing deep into my skin.