The grandfather

The nights were quiet until our baby started crying promptly at 1:15 am. Our dog was barking in front of the cot, as if something was upsetting him. We thought it was just a phase, until we checked the security cameras.

In the videos, a dark silhouette crept into the baby's room. A figure of an old man approached the cot, unleashing frantic barking from our faithful companion. It was as if he was trying to protect our child from this sinister presence.

Terrified, we asked the neighbour about the former residents of the house. His answer chilled our blood: a grandfather had lived there, driven mad after losing his grandson in a tragic accident. He had passed away months before we moved in, but his spirit seemed to wander, searching for the loved one he could never get back.

The nights became torture, watching for any sound, any sign that the spectral old man was returning to haunt our little one's cot. Our dog, a brave guardian, remained alert, growling at the slightest threatening presence.

Finally, we decided that our son would sleep in our room, away from the haunted room. Our dog, his unwavering protector, stayed by his side, ready to face any supernatural force that dared threaten our family.

Although the nights were quieter, the fear never left us completely. For we knew that somewhere in that house, a tormented soul was still searching for that which it could never recover, doomed to wander for eternity in its endless quest.