Madness Chases Legacy
Published on HivePostify by @gabmr · Fri Jan 09 2026
Madness Chases Legacy
One day Cornwell woke up at his grandfather's vigil. Such a “breakfast” was adorned with many long faces and dogs sobbing around a dark coffin. The walls of the house were damp and there was a strange smell of rotten cheese. The only thing stranger than all this was that Cornwell didn't recognize almost anyone there.
“Muri, who are all these people?” he asked his older sister.
“Grandfather's former co-workers and some acquaintances from town,” she replied, wiping away her tears.
Cornwell frowned, thinking deeply about her answer, almost as if it were a riddle.
“Grandpa retired many years ago, and he's probably the loneliest man we know,” Cornwell said quietly.
“Have you lost your mind? You must be talking about another grandfather, not ours,” Muri said, suddenly enraged.
Cornwell could only rub his eyes and hope it was all a nightmare. Instead, he saw something worse. Some of those present had sinister looks on their faces, and seemed to have a thousand teeth as they cautiously flashed a dark smile at Cornwell.
This made Cornwell jump out of his chair. The nervous boy fled like a bullet to his room seeking refuge, without fully realizing that several dogs had come out chasing him.
It was very fortunate that in the midst of all this, Cornwell felt a cool breeze coming in and cool his sweat. The window of his room was open, and so was a possible escape route.
Then the boy took three long steps and threw himself headfirst through the wide window.
“Today was not going to be my funeral,” Cornwell said from the street, watching the dogs gather on two legs on the window frame.
Still confused by everything that was happening, Cornwell remembered what Muri had said in a loop, and he cried. His head was a tornado of thoughts that kept lifting him up in suffering.
“Son, what has happened to you?” Cornwell heard as he felt a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up and saw Father Derrick. It was a moment of instant peace, and he threw himself into his arms.
“They're lying!” Cornwell cried, sniffling.
“Who?” asked the priest, trying to wipe away the boy's tears.
“My sister Muri and all those strange people,” replied Cornwell, still upset. “They say that Grandfather Alfred is dead.”
Father Derrick took a few steps back, and with a twisted expression on his face, began to shake his head.
“I saw your grandfather early this morning,” said the priest, crossing himself.
“What do you mean?” stammered the young man.
“That's right, son. I saw your grandfather earlier. At dawn, on the banks of the river, to be more precise,” replied his father emphatically.
“I don't understand any of this,” said Cornwell, clutching his head.
“What's going on at your house?” asked the priest.
"My grandfather is there in a coffin, surrounded by people I've never seen before. They look sinister, they smell bad, and they have smiles that widen their faces,“ the boy explained, trembling. "There are also dogs that want to tear me apart."
“Anything else?”
“No. Except that my own sister seemed to be part of it, and I'm not crazy. I know my grandmother Alfred isn't dead,” young Cornwell growled, still sobbing.
Father Derrick looked up at the sky, and after a while, he motioned for Cornwell to go to the river.
Under a medium-sized tree that bore fruit and provided shade, Grandfather Alfred was sitting quietly. So detached from the world, he seemed to live alone in it. His fishing rod was older than he was, but Alfred looked as enthusiastic as if it were his first time.
“Grandfather!” Cornwell shouted with all his might, throwing himself at Alfred.
“Oh, grandson! What has become of you? Fish with me,” laughed old Alfred.
“Mr. Alfred, how have you been? I see you like fishing. You don't want to go fishing for evil people with us, do you?” asked Father Derrick.
“What are you saying?” Grandpa Alfred scratched his head when he heard such a proposal.
But Cornwell and Father Derrick didn't want to give any further explanations. Instead, they took Grandpa to his house as quickly as they could.
Although vibrant in color on the outside, old Alfred's house seemed to be in darkness on the inside. Even worse, the further they went in, the more it smelled like rotten cheese.
“Muri, why is there an coffin in my living room?” asked Grandpa Alfred, his fists clenched, when he saw his granddaughter crying in the midst of a crowd of people he didn't know.
“Grandpa, you... this must be a miracle,” she whispered, her eyes wide open, and arms aiming to hug Alfred.
“Father, do you see them? Look at their twisted faces,” said the boy, trembling.
“Almighty God! What this girl has done is terrible,” exclaimed Father Derrick as he took out and raised his crucifix.
“Don't hug me, Muri. Explain to me what all this is about,” demanded old Alfred.
“Grandfather, they all told me you were dead, and I found you in that coffin. Now I see you talking to me, and I don't believe it,” said Muri, holding back dry sobs.
Grandfather Alfred ignored his granddaughter's words and managed to walk a little further. His face paled when he saw himself inside the unfortunate coffin.
But when he wanted to ask his granddaughter another question, he saw how everyone present began to rise one after another, opening their mouths like thousand-toothed alligators.
Then Father Derrick sprinkled everyone with holy water, and the guests began to writhe with uncontrollable screams of pain. Young Cornwell lay motionless as they began to pile up on the floor like stacks of coal.
“No! This is all your fault, stupid boy,” Muri pointed at her younger brother.
Despite such a scene, the priest never stopped sprinkling holy water and praying the Our Father. A short time later, all the guests were turned to charcoal, and Muri lay kneeling, covering her face.
“I see,” Father Derrick said emphatically. “This girl is a potter, isn't she?”
“Yes, Father, she has been skilled with ceramics since she was a child, but I don't understand what you're getting at,” replied the confused grandfather.
Then the priest opened the coffin and tapped the “other Alfred” on the face. It sounded hard and hollow.
The grandfather immediately turned to his granddaughter and pulled her hands away from her face.
Tags: #fiction#writing#inkwellprompt#theinkwell#shortstory#crazy#legacy