The Rabbit Box

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Ill_Caterpillar544 on 2024-11-14 05:12:07+00:00.

---

When I was six years old, my mother sent me to stay with my grandparents for the summer.

At this time in my life, I had never met my mother's parents, and I had never been away from home longer than a weekend. When my mom broke the news to me that I would be going away for nearly two months, I sobbed on and off for several days. It wasn't until she told me that my grandparents had a dog that I began to feel some excitement about leaving home.

Kindergarten was ending, and on the last day, I joined the class on the rainbow-colored carpet where we were prompted by our teacher, Ms. Hayne, to share something we had planned for summer break. Ms. Hayne was a young teacher, in her second or third year at the school whose voice was sweet and soft. When it was my turn to share, I proudly exclaimed that I would be spending the summer at my grandparents’s house. I made sure to mention the dog. My peers giggled and shouted at the mention of the animal, and that helped me to adjust to the idea of leaving even more.

It felt like some sort of adventure. Still, the day came, and I trembled with nerves in the back seat of my mom’s Honda as she drove me several hours away from home and toward the unknown. The road seemed to be unending, and the wide city street eventually narrowed into a poorly maintained stretch of asphalt that dug deep into a wooded mountain.

“Where are the other cars?” I asked my mother as I peered around checking each window. “Not many people come up this way. Grandma and Grandpa like their privacy, so they moved up here back before you were born.” Sensing my uneasiness she added, “Dont worry honey. You are going to have so much space to run around and explore. It's going to be a good change of pace for you.” I shuffled in my seat and fell quiet. I did like the idea of exploring outside. My mom and I lived on the second floor of an old apartment building. There were some neighbor kids with whom I spent most of my free time, but finding something to do other than coloring or building Legos was difficult since none of us were allowed to play outside. Too many strangers and moving cars.

It wasn't the worst neighborhood, but it wasn't the kind of place where you let your kids roam free. There was always an adult watching us when we would venture out to play on the basketball court, where we would usually just end up playing freeze tag. That ten-by-twenty cement pad contained the majority of my outdoor experience. It would be nice to have some freedom to run wild, catch bugs, and climb trees.

The road trailed on and the foliage seemed to grow all-encompassing, almost swallowing the small road in some areas. As branches stretched over the skies the shadows paved the street in shapes all too frightening for a child with an active imagination. I chose to keep my view centered on the seat in front of me. We drove all day, and when the sun had set we finally pulled onto a dirt road. We continued for at least another mile before a large house came into view behind the trees.

As we slowly inched the car closer the fauna opened up into a clearing, and the whole property was visible. Near the main house was a barn that looked as though it used to be painted red, but was now chipped away revealing mostly brown and white wood. As we rounded the house to the back where my mom parked the car a small shed appeared.

“Alright. We’re here!” my mom shouted with more relief than enthusiasm. I kept my seat belt on, hoping that if I waited long enough my mother would decide this whole thing had been a mistake and turn the car around. Instead, she removed her keys, killing the radio that was softly humming static, and opened her door. I followed my mom's lead, not wanting to remain alone in the car. Stepping out of the vehicle I was hit with a light gust of wind that chilled my small bones and made me grimace. I looked at my mom, and she could see how tense I was.

Grabbing my hand she led me around to the side door and knocked. I clutched her hand in mine as we waited for the door to swing open. After a moment, creaking footsteps approached, and the hinges of the door squeaked to reveal a tender aged face. My grandmother stood in the doorway with a soft smile and warm eyes ushering us in with her free hand, the other clutching a plate of cookies. “Come in!” she squealed.

I looked at my mother who wore the same soft smile on her own face. We walked in and the door was shut behind us. The warmth my grandmother exuded did a decent job of melting my fears, but the atmosphere of the home was quick to send the chills back down my spine. All of the lights were off. Only the moonlight shining in through the entryway window illuminated my surroundings. “Oh excuse me one moment.” my grandmother said as she placed the tray of cookies on the coffee table and rushed to turn on a lamp.

When the small, solitary light source was flipped on the house was left looking eerie. My mom began catching up with my grandma. The two had talked over the phone several times over the years, but this was the first time they had been in the same room since I was born. They sat on the couch as my mom complained about the drive and my grandmother tried to force-feed her oatmeal raisin cookies. Noticing my shyness my mom excused me to explore the house. “Your room is upstairs to the right,” Grandma said. I picked up my bag, slung it over my shoulders, and headed towards the staircase. As I ascended I made sure to count each stair, a habit that I have yet to break even in my adulthood. I reached the top.

14 steps.

I glanced to my right, seeing that the hallway led to a small bedroom and a bathroom adjacent to it. I peered to the left out of curiosity and let out an involuntary scream. Down the left hallway was my grandfather, a man wholly unfamiliar to me, standing in the doorway. His silhouette was outlined by the shining light behind him, creating a specter in my young imagination.

My mother rushed up the stairs when she heard me and frantically asked what was wrong. Frozen in fear, I stammered for the words. “Th..the…man…” I pointed down the hall. Grandpa had turned his back and began walking into the master bedroom, shutting the door behind him without a word. “Oh don't you mind him,” Grandma said as she reached the 14th step. “He's been feeling under the weather. He hopes to make an appearance tomorrow after he's gotten some rest.” “Well, I plan on leaving kind of early tomorrow. I have to get back for some meetings at work.” Mom said. “Trust me,” Grandma replied, “No one gets up earlier than Grandpa.”

The next morning I got up early to say goodbye to my mom. Up until this point I had been the only one with visible hesitation, but she seemed to linger longer than expected, looking into my eyes and showering me with kisses and I-love-yous. I wish I could have stayed in that moment forever. True to my grandmother’s words, my grandfather had gotten up before anyone but chose to spend the morning hunting. This was irritating to my mother, but she really did have responsibilities at work to return to, so she eventually got into the driver’s seat of her car and rounded the house heading for the main road.

I waved goodbye and watched her car until it dipped past the clearing and was absorbed by the tree line. With the vehicle out of sight, my fate was sealed. I would be spending almost two full months in this foreign place. “Come on inside. We can have some breakfast together.” said my grandmother.

The rest of the morning was fairly normal. I ate eggs and bacon, colored a picture, and even got to spend some time watching cartoons on the old TV in the living room. It was the kind that had the antennas at the top, and I didn't get any of the normal channels but I eventually found an animated show and sat back to enjoy the story. That morning I had also gotten to know grandma’s dog Buffalo, who had gotten used to my presence and was lying next to me on the couch.

Everything changed when my grandfather returned home from hunting. Though I was in the living room, I immediately tuned in to his arrival as he threw the front door open and yelled out to my grandma. I stayed seated on the couch, but I could hear her greeting him at the door. Her demeanor was drastically different from then on. Instead of the bubbly, cheerful woman I had met the night before, she became a fearful shell when he was around.

Grandpa mumbled something about having lunch ready by the time he returned from the basement. Dragging two lifeless rabbits at his side, my grandfather walked to the basement door and stopped. He turned to me and said, “Dont you go snooping around my basement, you hear me, kid?” I nodded, and he descended the stairs closing the door behind him. “What's in the basement?” I asked turning to Grandma. “That's where your grandpa does his work. He sells the rabbit meat and skins, and he uses the downstairs area to clean and prepare them.”

I didn't like the idea of dead rabbits in the house. In my innocent mind, I could only feel sadness for the creatures, and even a little fear. I had never seen a dead thing before. A curiosity about the rabbits started to grow within me. Not the blood and guts part. I wasn't old enough to understand that. But the idea of something being alive and then just…well…not being alive anymore was sort of fascinating in a morbid way. I knew then that I had to get a closer look at the rabbits. I wish that I hadn't. Maybe if I...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1gqxiyw/the_rabbit_box/