We arrived at Grandma’s house around nine in the morning. With her warm smile, she welcomed us and guided us to the room she had lovingly prepared for us to rest. Grandma’s house looked simple, almost ordinary—but inside, it was full of surprises. The front part of the first floor, facing the busy road, was a shop. But once you stepped inside, the back opened up into a cozy family space—with a living room, bedrooms, a kitchen, and a dining room. At the very end of the house, there was something mysterious: a staircase that went down.
If you followed it, the first stop was Uncle’s workshop (he makes furniture, and his shop was right next door to Grandma’s). Go down even further, and you’d discover an ancient-looking kitchen with a wood stove, and across from it—three bathrooms in a row! Each bathroom even had a little window that looked straight out at the river.
Our room was upstairs. Next to the stairs was a big bedroom with one king-sized bed and a queen-sized mattress laid out on the floor. That’s where I stayed with my parents—naturally, I got the mattress on the floor. Well, somebody’s gotta be the bottom bunk kid of the family… lucky me!
My sisters’ room was in the opposite direction. From my room, you had to turn right, climb five more steps, and then—voilà!—a large space with its own little sitting area and their bedroom tucked inside. My brother’s room was across the other way. From mine, you’d turn left, walk a bit, and his room was right there on the left. Lucky for him? Well… maybe not, since his window looked straight out onto the laundry area. Day after day, his view was nothing but clothes flapping on the line! (Grandma joked it would teach him not to let his heart “hang out” too easily when he grew up!)
After unpacking, Dad went downstairs to chat with Uncle. I crept close to listen in (because that’s what curious kids do). Dad was telling him about our trip, and Uncle said, “You were lucky to have help and arrive safely. In the hill forest, you shouldn’t speak carelessly. But the people there are always so kind—they’ll lend a hand without asking for anything in return.”
Then Uncle shared his own story: once, he had to drive through the forest at night. Since there were no lights, it was almost pitch-black. But the villagers would take turns standing at the sharp bends with oil lamps, holding them up high like tiny glowing stars, so travelers could see the path and make it safely through.
I was still listening with wide eyes when Grandma’s voice suddenly called me into the dining room. And what a sight! The table was packed with food—toast with jam and sprinkles, muffins, chocolate brownies, my favorite warm milk, and Grandma’s legendary dishes: rice, ifumie, fuyunghai, and stir-fried capcay. Honestly, this was one of the best things about visiting Grandma’s house—her cooking made every meal feel like a feast. Of course, I didn’t turn down a single dish.
As usual, once my parents and siblings got busy with their own things, I was left to play on my own. Being the youngest had its perks—no one fussed over me too much. As long as I wasn’t hungry, I could keep myself entertained.
But soon, night began to fall. Since Grandma’s house wasn’t in the city, the streets outside grew quiet really early. By seven o’clock, the only sounds left were the chirping crickets and the occasional “tok-kek!” from a gecko. My parents told me it was bedtime, but how could I possibly sleep that early? Instead, I decided to sneak off to my sisters’ room.
The hallway leading there was dark, shadows dancing in the corners. I tiptoed forward, trying to be brave. And then—WHOOSH! Something black swooped above my head with flapping wings. My whole body froze. My voice stuck in my throat. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t move. My eyes followed the flickering shadows overhead, my heart pounding, and slowly… very slowly… my brain began to realize what I had just seen.
To be continued in Part 3…
