HOUSE OF horror
Jan 21, 2020
4 minutes
Words: Amanda Vlietstra
Grant Colyer, from Essex
Dad put his arm round my shoulder as we walked into the chapel of rest.
‘Come on, Son, let’s go and pay our respects,’ he said, his voice hoarse with sorrow.
He’d lost his mum, my nan, and she was laid out in the chapel of rest in her coffin, dressed in her Sunday best.
As I walked towards the coffin, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
‘I’m not there – I’m behind you!’ it said.
I spun round – and there was Nan! She was standing behind me, dressed in the same outfit she was wearing in her coffin, beaming at me.
Perhaps I should have been scared – but it was only Nan.
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