Fifteen years of family
Apr. 16th, 2026 05:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ericcolemanFifteen years. Fifteen years years since a sanity sapping incident usually found in the pages of an HP Lovecraft story.
Fifteen years years ago I woke up in a bizarre house on the outskirts of Indianapolis thinking I was prepared to face some truly eldritch terrors.
Nothing I could have done could prepare me for the onslaught.
First there were the beasts, one the size of a small truck. At one point it pinned me to a couch for what seemed like an eternity. The other two were baying hunters who still live in my nightmares. They gave me no choice in the matter, I had to give them all skritches.
Then there the people who lived there. Lizzie, along with two others, would spontaneously break into song. I was in the world's most surreal musical. It knew no genre nor decade, instead it skipped through the years like a stone across water.
The matriarch of the house seemed so sweet, but I heard the stories. She was no one to be trifled with.
Then there was my wife's clone, or perhaps my wife is the clone, I am still uncertain. She greeted me with a grin and could obviously sense my fear.
Her husband put me at ease with talk of games and gaming, but I had also heard the stories.
My wife had tried to warn me of the dangers, still, I faced them as best I could.
And then, without warning, skipping through the wards and shields of the house with no effort came ...
GRANDMA !!!
Oddly enough, regardless of the tales I had been told, I found her easy to face. She met me with absurdity, I responded in kind and she retreated.
Then came dinner, all laid out upon a great table worthy of a castle of legend. I did not realize that the geeky man I had talked gaming with earlier was a master of his craft. I could sing praises of his food, but there is no time at the moment.
Grandma returned along with the rest of the horde. It felt like hundreds, my wife claims it was just seventeen. I grudgingly accept her claims, but I know what I saw.
Then came the expatriate patriarch, the crafty old wizard. He attempted to see if he could instill a certain fear into me. He didn't understand that I also had a daughter, and was prepared to do the very thing he was attempting when my time came to face my daughter's suitors.
The warnings came, one after another, they all wanted me to be aware of the real danger here.
Did they warn you about grandma?
You know about grandma?
Be careful around grandma.
Her youngest child, her only son, shortly after she had left the table for a moment, leaned across and asked "They told you about grandma, right?"
Seven times I was warned, there must be a significance to that number.
By that time I was fully aware of the dangers of grandma. Still that was the least of my problems.
After dinner some of us retreated to the kitchen where I found that the crafty old wizard was a raconteur of considerable skill. Yet, I come from a family of story tellers going back generations, so I did my best to match him story for story. The laughter went far into the evening.
Evening passed, and the horde vanished into the night. I still did not know if I had passed the many tests they had obviously, and in some cases not obviously at all, laid out for me. And that is a story for tomorrow.
Fifteen years years ago I woke up in a bizarre house on the outskirts of Indianapolis thinking I was prepared to face some truly eldritch terrors.
Nothing I could have done could prepare me for the onslaught.
First there were the beasts, one the size of a small truck. At one point it pinned me to a couch for what seemed like an eternity. The other two were baying hunters who still live in my nightmares. They gave me no choice in the matter, I had to give them all skritches.
Then there the people who lived there. Lizzie, along with two others, would spontaneously break into song. I was in the world's most surreal musical. It knew no genre nor decade, instead it skipped through the years like a stone across water.
The matriarch of the house seemed so sweet, but I heard the stories. She was no one to be trifled with.
Then there was my wife's clone, or perhaps my wife is the clone, I am still uncertain. She greeted me with a grin and could obviously sense my fear.
Her husband put me at ease with talk of games and gaming, but I had also heard the stories.
My wife had tried to warn me of the dangers, still, I faced them as best I could.
And then, without warning, skipping through the wards and shields of the house with no effort came ...
GRANDMA !!!
Oddly enough, regardless of the tales I had been told, I found her easy to face. She met me with absurdity, I responded in kind and she retreated.
Then came dinner, all laid out upon a great table worthy of a castle of legend. I did not realize that the geeky man I had talked gaming with earlier was a master of his craft. I could sing praises of his food, but there is no time at the moment.
Grandma returned along with the rest of the horde. It felt like hundreds, my wife claims it was just seventeen. I grudgingly accept her claims, but I know what I saw.
Then came the expatriate patriarch, the crafty old wizard. He attempted to see if he could instill a certain fear into me. He didn't understand that I also had a daughter, and was prepared to do the very thing he was attempting when my time came to face my daughter's suitors.
The warnings came, one after another, they all wanted me to be aware of the real danger here.
Did they warn you about grandma?
You know about grandma?
Be careful around grandma.
Her youngest child, her only son, shortly after she had left the table for a moment, leaned across and asked "They told you about grandma, right?"
Seven times I was warned, there must be a significance to that number.
By that time I was fully aware of the dangers of grandma. Still that was the least of my problems.
After dinner some of us retreated to the kitchen where I found that the crafty old wizard was a raconteur of considerable skill. Yet, I come from a family of story tellers going back generations, so I did my best to match him story for story. The laughter went far into the evening.
Evening passed, and the horde vanished into the night. I still did not know if I had passed the many tests they had obviously, and in some cases not obviously at all, laid out for me. And that is a story for tomorrow.
