404 School Street

It was a cool, cloudy autumn day in Willowbrook. The wind rustled through the colorful trees — red, orange, yellow, and gold leaves fluttering like confetti. Grandpa John and Grandpa George were cruising down the road in John's electric golf cart, bundled in their jackets and feeling adventurous.

Their purple monkey friend named Peanut wasn't with them that day. He was swinging through the treetops with other purple monkeys, probably having a banana picnic or playing leaf tag.

As the two grandpas turned onto School Street, Grandpa John furrowed his brows.

"There used to be a school around here, but it's long gone."

Grandpa George leaned forward. "WHAT?!"

Grandpa John repeated. "I said, there used to be a school around here!"

"I haven't been to school in years! Not planning to go back! Too many whippersnappers!"

"Forget it," Grandpa John sighed.

They reached the end of the road, and that's when they saw it.

The address was 404 School Street.

A hideous, maroon, two-story building stood out like an eyesore and crumbling. The paint peeled off like old sunburn, revealing splotches of white underneath. A dusty coal chimney hid behind it like a forgotten hat. Next to it was a strange structure that supposedly led down to an unfinished basement.

Not even the maps on John's smartphone knew what it was. Always seemed to give him an error message.

"People used to live in that ugly place," Grandpa John grumbled. "They built it weird and wonky, a garbage dwelling really. Even before it was abandoned, nobody lived there long. There were rumors... weird things happening."

Just then, a black crow landed on the roof and cawed before taking flight again.

Grandpa George questioned. "What kind of rumors, John?"

But Grandpa John didn't answer. He just stared at the building.

That night, the sky was black and the air chilly. The wind whistled through the trees as John and George pulled up to the structure again — this time, under the orange glow of an old streetlight.

"Are you sure about this,” Grandpa George asked. "This plan is giving me the willies already!"

"Nope," Grandpa John said, grabbing a flashlight. "But I’ve got a bad feeling."

They stepped inside. The door creaked. The hallways were dim and dusty. And the carpet was all wet and squishy. When they walked toward the basement, both discovered it to be sealed for unknown reasons. It wasn't long before they made their way up to the second floor.

That's when they heard raspy breathing, scratching, and something dragging.

From out of the shadows emerged a being with beige-gray skin, thin limbs that were too long, and sunken eyes. It was crawling on the floor slowly and its joints bending in ways that it shouldn't.

Both grandpas froze.

Grandpa George shouted. "WHAT IS THAT THING?!"

Grandpa John trembled. "I don't know, but it's not friendly."

Grandpa George squinted. "Uh, John? Is that your uncle?"

John didn't respond. He pulled George into a room on the right since none were on the left side of the hall. Quickly, the door was locked and they looked out a small hole in the door.

The entity slowly made it down to where they were at. It stoop up with surprising height, its head reaching the ceiling, then crouched down and stared in the hole. It knew they were watching.

An unsettling grin of sharp yellow teeth appeared, and its breathing was a bit louder.

Grandpa George wrinkled his nose. "BLEH! Do you brush your teeth?! That breath is awful!"

Grandpa John snickered loudly. "Quiet down, George! It can hear you!"

For a moment, the unsettling stare continued before the thing slowly turned and moved down the hall. Once they couldn't hear it anymore, that's when they escaped. Down the stairs, out the door, and into the golf cart.

"Phew! That was a clo-"

A screech sounded just as they pulled away.

Grandpa John gulped. "Oh no."

Grandpa George panicked. "GO GO GO!"

Emerging from the building was the abomination they encountered earlier. It was moving much faster than before, more so than imagined possible.

Grandpa John yelled. "THROW SOMETHING!"

Grandpa George rummaged through some items and found a large container of old beans.

He declared. "HAVE SOME COOL BEANS, CREEPY THING!"

The beans flew through the air and missed entirely. Instead, they went into a green dumpster next to the building and splattered all over.

Right on Henry the Grump.

"WHO THREW THAT?! I WAS SLEEPING!"

The grandpas screamed as the spooky crawly got closer.

Henry snapped, shaking his fist. "KEEP IT DOWN! IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!"

Grandpa George was wide-eyed. "IT'S THE BEAN MONSTER, JOHN! AAAH!"

Grandpa John searched. "WHERE IS IT, GEORGE?!"

Henry scowled. "NO! It's me, Henry the Grump! You senile lunatics are disrupting the peace!"

Grandpa George pointed at the thing chasing them. "IS THAT YOUR UNCLE, HENRY?!"

Henry scoffed. "That noodle nightmare?! Oh, please!"

The entity screeched.

Henry growled. "Alright, I'm mad now!"

He hurled a tomato at the grandpas, but instead it struck the thing hard in the face with a loud splat. It turned towards Henry and started heading right towards his home rather quickly.

Henry was uneasy. "Great. Should've stayed in bed."

He quickly dove back in his dumpster and locked the lid. The entity was now scratching the dumpster deeply, trying to get inside with intent.

Henry let out a muffled yell. "GO AWAY! DON'T MAKE ME COME OUT THERE!"

Seizing the moment, the two grandpas fled in the golf cart while it was distracted. Five minutes later they arrived home, locked every door and window, and sat down with hot cocoa.

Grandpa George sighed. "That was the worst idea ever."

Grandpa John agreed. "But at least we have a clue of what really went on."

Off in the distance, Henry echoed. "AND DON'T THROW BEANS IN MY DUMPSTER AGAIN!"

Grandpa George cupped his ear. "WHAT?! Did you say throw jeans in the dumpster bin?!"

Grandpa John laughed. "No! He said beans!"

Grandpa George was confused. "Huh?! A grump doesn't like dreams?!"

There was a long pause.

Grandpa George broke the silence. "I don’t think we’ll be sleeping well tonight."

Grandpa John nodded slowly. "Neither do I. That place... it’s like it’s still alive somehow."

Suddenly, a soft tapping came from the roof — just three quick knocks.

They froze.

Grandpa John whispered, "Did you hear that?"

Grandpa George swallowed hard. "I did. Maybe... maybe it’s better if we don’t know anything else."

Outside, the wind rustled the trees again, and somewhere deep in the shadows, a low, rasping breath echoed faintly. The grandpas exchanged a look and decided some mysteries are better left alone.