Chapter 2: Grandma’s Office

Grandma’s office occupied the third floor at the end of a narrow hallway that had fallen out of use years ago. While the rest of the house had been updated with new paint, carpet, and fixtures, this level still held the original wallpaper and creaking floorboards. The air felt thicker here, undisturbed for months.

The key slid into the lock without resistance. My fingers lingered on the brass knob, cool and slightly tarnished. I turned it. The latch gave a soft click, and the door swung inward.

Dust and aged paper greeted me first, followed by the faint scent of dried herbs clinging beneath the polish. I reached for the wall switch. Light flooded the room, revealing a heavy wooden desk centered beneath the window. Its surface bore a thin layer of dust, yet a sleek monitor and keyboard sat atop it like intruders from another decade. The ergonomic chair beside it looked expensive, its mesh back and adjustable arms clearly modern.

A tall bookcase stood against the left wall, its shelves packed with leather-bound volumes and stacked folders. A polished filing cabinet filled one corner, its wooden drawers reflecting the overhead light. Beside the door, a glass-fronted cabinet displayed rows of small bottles, jars, and what looked like bundles of dried plants tied with string.

Nothing announced itself as strange or otherworldly. That quiet normalcy made the space feel stranger still.

I closed the door behind me, the click echoing in the stillness. I told myself I would only look, nothing more. The lie sat warm in my chest. Curiosity had already taken hold, sharp and insistent, pushing me forward.

I crossed to the desk and pressed the computer’s power button. The machine hummed to life at once, screen brightening to a login prompt. Password required. I tried her name, the company name, Grandpa’s name, my father’s name. Each attempt failed. After the fifth try, I powered it down and turned my attention to the drawers.