It's now time for just the terror with Nick Guerra. Just like Grandpa.

On October 23rd 1989, Colonel Jonathan Sanford passed away in his sleep.

One year later, I was born.

I can remember everyone telling me how much I reminded them of him.

As a kid it was my eyes and my nose.

When I was a teenager, it was my build and my hairline.

And when I became an adult, apparently, I ended up with the same personality.

Those who were able to spend time with him say he was a hard man but fair, a stern cuss,

with the same stern cuss with everyone. I was always envious of my family, even my older brother,

because he at least got a few years with him.

He was too young to remember any of them but still. Then when I was 25 I finally got to

meet him. The late John Sanford, my grandfather. My girlfriend Laini and I had

gotten a place for ourselves. We were done with school. We both had jobs and we're eager

to be on our own.

For the first few months everything was great.

We had gone through all the haunted house style cliches, flickering lights, creaking

floors, things not being where we left him, but we had explanations for all these things.

It was an old house, and since there were two of us things were always getting moved around.

But these were not just cliches. We were being haunted. And as I was walking down the hallway one night, I finally saw him.

Holy fuck came out of my mouth before I could even think.

Chilling cold ran through my face as his transparent hand phased into my cheek through my mouth

and out the other side.

...