Note: I did not write this story, I am just posting it here.
I was babysitting my little cousin, and I had to go put him to bed. I walked him to his room and he said, “don’t turn the lights out.” “Why?” I ask. “Because Grampa Jack has not left yet.” He answered, as I wondered who Grampa Jack wass. “Who is Grampa Jack?” I asked, frightened. “You don’t know him.” Answered my cousin, who oddly enoughs name was Jack. “When I am older, I kill your baby,” says Jack, “and you burn in a house that I light on fire.” I walk out of the room, and call his parents. “Um, hello, Aunt Keara, Jack is saying some wierd stuff, he says that “Grampa Jack” is in his room, and he says when he is older he is going to kill me and my baby.” I said. “Alice, your great grandfather’s name was Jack, and he killed a woman and her baby. But your uncle and I never told Jack about him, and there is no papers in the house, or anywhere for that matter, about him. How could he possibly find out?” My aunt told me. “We are coming home, do not go in Jack’s room, and you locked his door, right?” Said my aunt. “No… why?” I asked nervously.”Go outside, now.” Demands my aunt. I obeyed, and they drove up. They walk inside, and tell me to stay out. As I waited, I heard a scream. I rush inside, to find my aunt and uncle dead on the floor. Jack stands there, bloody knife in hand, a smile painted on his face with his own parents’ blood. “You are next.” Said Jack. Helllllllllllllllllllppppppppppppppppppppppp
The author can’t finish this story. (Jack was here.)