The door of good monsters

                                    

                                          
CHAPTER 16:

Haerin's POV
When I lived with my dad and mom, I was still a child; I loved horror movies and things like that. I always tried to search for these topics on the internet or stayed up late to watch the horror movies that aired late at night on TV.
Even so, those things that happened today
— I never thought they could happen to me.
When I was younger, I used to go to my grandparents' house on vacation with my parents. My grandfather loved to tell stories, but there was one in particular that I always found very scary.
~Start of Flashback~

I was on the living room carpet, playing with the modeling clay that Grandma had given me, and dirtying her coffee table.
My grandfather was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper; he looked at me from time to time and made a funny face to make me laugh.
While I was deeply focused, my grandfather suddenly said:
— So, have I ever told you the story of when I was swallowed by a lion?
I frowned and looked at him, replying:
— Grandpa, stop it. That's impossible; if you had been swallowed, you wouldn't be here.
He looked at me for a while and laughed.
— Yes haha, you're growing up. When you were younger, you believed everything I said.
I smiled, as he thought I was mature, nodded my head, and went back to focusing on the modeling clay while rolling my eyes playfully.
— You and your stories... You've flown on a dinosaur, fought sharks, opened a rock show in the city square, and much more...
He laughed and closed the newspaper.
— Don't mock me, you little girl, haha! But you're right; I am a superhuman.
— Such self-esteem, Grandpa.
Silence filled the room for a while, and then my grandfather said in a more serious voice:
— The world is a big, scary place; it's impossible to understand everything.
— Why do you say that, Grandpa?
I asked curiously, putting the modeling clay in a jar.
— Well, when I was a kid...
— There he goes again...
— Quiet, brat, listen!
I laughed at his irritation but kept quiet.
— When I was a kid, I was playing in the garden; it was the weekend, and it wasn't raining or anything. In the backyard of the house where I lived with my parents, there was a small tool shed where my father kept some items he used to fix things.
I listened carefully to what he was saying, and for a moment, time seemed to stop as I listened to my grandfather.
— I was terrified of that place because my dad was too lazy to install a light there, and that little corner in the back was always very dark. One day, my dad had broken something inside the house; I can't quite remember what it was. So, he asked me to go to the shed and get a hammer and some nails for him.
— So, did you see a ninja in there and fight him?
I said, interrupting, but my grandfather frowned and pinched my cheeks.
— Let me finish!
— Ouch! Alright!
— I remember being very scared, but I went into that place, grabbed the hammer and nails, and then came out. I handed them to my dad, and he finished fixing whatever he had broken.