The children's bedroom was my favorite place to rest after an eventful day. My youngest grandchild, Emma, was asleep already. Her chest gently raised up and down as she dreamt.
Her older brother was resisting his mom's efforts to get ready for bed.
"Who's that?" Brian asked, pointing at the empty corner of the room.
"There's nothing there, Brian," Ellen grumbled. "Stop stalling."
He pouted, looking from his mom to the corner. "But she's crying."
"Brush your teeth!" Ellen hissed and dragged him off to the bathroom while I hesitantly looked to the corner.
It was empty, but I didn't trust my eyes because a long time ago, my dad revealed a big secret. A familiar was tied to our klan - a Banshee who would visit us to announce a loved one's death.
I hoped that Brian was wrong. I had a wonderful family and didn't want to lose any of them. But it wasn't me that saw her. Did it mean that Brian was about to lose someone?
I got up to check on little Emma, remembering the stories of infants who die in their sleep. As if knowing I was watching, she took a long breath and turned her head.
Ellen came back with Brian who froze, staring at the corner again.
"Mom?" Ellen said.
"Yes, sweetheart," I answered and turned to her, but she wasn't looking at me.
She ran to the other side of the room where my body was slumped in the armchair I sat in before.
And then I saw her.
The girl smiled through tears and squeezed my hand as we watched my daughter search for traces of life in my former body.
Ellen ran out to find help and passed right through me.
"Open your eyes, grams," Brian said, pulling on the limp hand. "Wake up."
Then, he turned around and looked not at me but at the Banshee.
Seeing the fear in his young eyes, we both wailed.
~~~
A/N: Want to know something spooky? I wrote a short story a few weeks later in which a boy named Brian grieves for his grandmother. I. Did. Not. Plan. That. I think my subconsciousness wanted to continue this story. Link in the comment 👉