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THIS IS KIND OF AN AMAZING STORY. YOU WON’T BELIEVE THE TWIST!
So yeah. Strap yourself in for this one: it really is quite a tale. Heart-warming, I hope. But just really crazy as well! The story begins in my grandmother’s house when I’m around six or seven years old.
THIS IS KIND OF AN AMAZING STORY. YOU WON’T BELIEVE THE TWIST!So yeah. Strap yourself in for this one: it really is quite a tale. Heart-warming, I hope. But just really crazy as well! The story begins in my grandmother’s house when I’m around six or seven years old.
I’ve the clearest memory of snooping around upstairs when the adults weren’t watching, and coming across this music box in one of the bedrooms. It had this distinctive oak wood exterior and a blood red coloured bedded platform inside, where figurines of a man and a woman perched.
I couldn’t recall the tune when you opened the box but I remembered it being kind of melancholy, a bit like ‘Greensleeves’ but not quite, and that the well-to-do looking man & woman danced around the red platform as it played. The memory was clear as day to me and not a one-off.
I felt like I snuck off to play with it many times. I could also remember my grandmother’s old fashioned framed pictures in the room, one of a little boy taking a pee which always amused me. And I remembered the smell: slightly musty, but not bad. Nice musty, comforting.
Years and years later after my grandmother has passed on, I’d be talking about this music box and no-one in my family could recall it, not even my mother or my older siblings whom I was sure must have encountered it. My brother would say to me, “You probably saw it on TV...
when you were small, ‘Tales of the Unexpected’ or something, and started to mix it in with your own memories”. And although initially insulted, on reflection I found his explanation fairly reasonable. I’ve always had a vivid imagination and that’s simply what must have happened
if literally no-one else remembered it. I put it out of my head completely.
Fast forward to last week, and I’m out for my walk. I’m a bit nostalgic lately as I suppose we all are, and I find myself mooching around places I used play as a kid near where my grandmother lived.
Fast forward to last week, and I’m out for my walk. I’m a bit nostalgic lately as I suppose we all are, and I find myself mooching around places I used play as a kid near where my grandmother lived.
I wasn’t fully sure who was living in my grandmother’s house these days but I had a young family in mind for some reason. When I get to the house itself, I notice the front door is open. Middle of winter; door wide open, no sounds coming from within.
I just found this instantly strange, and hung back for a bit to see if someone would go in or come out. Nothing. Honest to God, I don’t know what came over me but I felt compelled to stick my head in. I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought I might just say hello and tell the
new occupants my Gran used live here and I was thinking about her what with everything that’s going on in the world. I don’t know… I suppose I’d no plan. But here I was walking through the hall and into their living room.“Hello” I called. “Excuse me”. Nothing.
There was no-one home, it was like the place had been abandoned or something. I thought, “This is all very odd, you’ve had your fun, get out the door and home right now - you weirdo!” But then I did hear something. Something faint. Upstairs. A little sad tune. It sounded…
Yes! It sounded just like the tune from the music box. My heart started beating really fast. At this point, I’m looking around for candid cameras. Is this actually happening? I thought about just running out of the house again but I imagined how I would feel afterwards,
and I thought the ‘not knowing’ would be even stranger, more unsettling than anything that might be waiting for me up there. I start ascending, the music becomes a little clearer. Heart in mouth, I slowly open the door of my gran’s bedroom. And inside, just sitting there...
Phew. Now that I’ve got you to read this far I can drop the whole Granny music box nonsense. I was the youngest child so I don’t remember any of my grandparents. I’m fairly sure she didn’t have a music box anyway. A working class woman with a blast of children in wartime Cork?
If she laid on her hands on a music box she would have tried to make a stew out of it, I’d say. I just made the whole story up because I’ve noticed these ‘Thread - You won’t believe this story’ posts are doing well on here lately, and I’ll try anything to boost my numbers.
- You won’t believe this story’ posts are doing well on here lately, and I’ll try anything to boost my numbers.
See, it breaks my heart how relatively low my no. of followers is when I’m so funny and lovely. I’m so funny that when I’m talking2people,I can’t really hear what they’re saying because I’m laughing at the next thing I’m about to say. I’m so lovely because I still let them talk.
And as I have you here, I might just ask you one more thing. Is it ok for a man in his late thirties to buy himself a onesie? When it’s bitter cold, as it is at the moment, it doesn’t seem to matter what type of pyjamas I wear, I always end up with the top popping out of my pants
(whether I tuck it in or not) and my lower back exposed. I do be bloody freezers in the middle of the night so I do! I was online and found a really cool Michelangelo from the ‘Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles’ onesie. I thought I might treat myself. I used be a big Michelangelo fan:
cheeky-chappy, cool dude head up on him, having the craic with April O’ Neill. Cool woman too, in fariness. You don’t see enough women in yellow jump suits anymore, IMO. Anyway I digress. I don’t want to be wasting your time.
Anyway guys, thanks for listening to my story.
Anyway guys, thanks for listening to my story.
And let’s not lose sight of what’s really important at the moment, yeah? Health, family and friends, and of course me boosting my numbers on the internet. Peace and love. Your friend, Tadhg.
