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“And It Was Exactly 1:30AM” — A Short Horror Story by Bibliophile

After playing an exciting racing game on my new android phone, I sat on the edge of my mattress with my head buried in my palms, thinking of how grandma had passed away that Tuesday night due to my naïveté.

She was an asthmatic patient and I guess had an attack for the very first time that memorable night. She hastily left her room for mine with her inhaler in her left hand. “My son, my son, help m… I… I can’t brea…” she tried saying, and buried in my hands her inhaler.

She wanted me to help her. She trusted that I could save her. I looked her at the eyes, she wanted to be alive, she wanted to stay. She raised her hands to her mouth. I understood her. She wanted me to insert and press the inhaler to her mouth. I did insert it, but it was in the wrong order.

I was just fifteen. I’d used an inhaler. I was never taught how to use it. Grandma longed for oxygen as she rested her head on my thighs that midnight. I stared in awe as she gasped for breathe and battled with death. She breathed her last. She died at exactly 1:30 am. I felt guilt inside me. I could have saved her. Only if I had…

“Anyway, that was in the past. It was her time to leave. You are not at fault, okay?” I said to console myself. I looked at my wall clock and it was exactly 1:30am. “I have to sleep now,” I said to myself.

The bulb in my room went off just as I was about to close my tired eyes. I stood up and peeped through the windows. “There’s light everywhere, what happening?” I asked the empty room. My room was in absolute darkness.

“I’ll fix it tomorrow,” I said as I blindly located my mattress in the darkness so as to lie down.

A second had not passed when I heard my door creaking. I sprang up immediately. “Who is that, who is there?” I said to no one. There was no answer. I was sure somebody was inside. I heard light footsteps coming closer to me. I could feel my knees shaking, I threw my hands around my mattress in search of my cell phone. I found it and tapped the screen like I used to. It failed me that night. It was dead as as death itself.

I could feel the presence, I could feel the closeness. My bulb was on again. I saw her hands. A blood stained knife on her left hand, a white inhaler on her right. I shakily raised my head. I saw her. It was grandma, her eyes were as scarlet as blood. She looked me and gave a hateful grin.

“No, this can’t be real,” I said as tears streamed down my cheeks. My bulb went off again.

“He who threatens to draw another through a bush must be prepared to make a way with his own back,” she said harshly as droplets of blood dripped from the knife in her hands.

She grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and forcefully inserted the white inhaler in my mouth. I was short of breath. I was dying. “No grandma, I didn’t kill you. I loved you. I didn’t … ” I stuttered with the inhaler in my mouth.

I saw her with the corner of my eyes. I saw her raise the knife. She was going to stab me. Yes, she was.

“Noooo!” I shouted as I woke up from sleep. It was a dream. I was profusely sweating. I breathed consistently like I never had. I raised my frightened bowed head and looked at my wall clock. It was 1:30 am. My heart skipped a bit. I was filled with fear. I was shedding tears. Then my bulb shakily went went off. And my door creepily creaked.

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