The Tortoise That Ended My Grandparents
I was raised by my grandparents after my parents died. They said it was a family fight that took my parents’ lives, but I later found out there was more to the story — something dark, something no one ever wanted to talk about.
My grandfather was a respected man in our village. People came to him for advice, and he always had money. Our family never went hungry. But behind all that, there was something strange — a tortoise that lived in our yard.
It was not kept in a cage, and no one ever touched it. It just stayed there, near the old tree behind the house. My grandmother would sometimes talk to it, almost like it was a person. I once saw her pour milk near it and whisper a few words. When I asked her why she did that, she said, “It brings peace to this home.”
As a child, I believed her. But as I grew older, I started to notice things. Every time the tortoise disappeared for a few days, something bad would happen in the family. One year, my uncle lost his job. Another time, my aunt’s child fell sick. Then the tortoise would come back, and my grandfather would suddenly have money again.
One night, I woke up to strange noises in the kitchen. I looked through the small window and saw my grandparents sitting on the floor with candles around them. The tortoise was in the middle. My grandfather was saying words I didn’t understand, and my grandmother looked scared. That was the first time I realised something was very wrong.
A few months later, my grandmother got sick. The doctors couldn’t find the problem. She said she was seeing my late parents in her dreams, calling her to join them. Then she died quietly one morning. My grandfather didn’t last long after that — he was found dead sitting near that same tortoise.
When people came to clean the yard after the funerals, the tortoise was gone. No one ever saw it again.
After my grandparents died, I was moved around from one relative to another. Everyone said they couldn’t keep me for long. Some said I brought bad luck. I didn’t understand why — I was just a child who lost everything.
But strange things started happening around me. I would dream about the tortoise, crawling slowly toward me with my grandfather’s voice calling my name. Sometimes I’d wake up to find the window open, even though I had closed it before sleeping. Other times, I’d hear soft footsteps near my bed, like tiny claws on the floor.
When I became older, I left the village and tried to start a new life in town. But the past followed me. Every time I got close to something good — a job, a friend, or peace — something would go wrong. I started to wonder if the tortoise had left a mark on me too.
People say rituals don’t die; they just move to the next bloodline. I don’t know if that’s true, but sometimes I feel like my life is not fully my own. I still dream of my grandparents. They never speak — they just stare, and behind them, the tortoise waits, watching me.
Now I live quietly, far from everyone. I don’t visit the village anymore. But on some nights when it rains and I hear the sound of water crawling on the ground, I think of that tortoise — the one that finished my grandparents and maybe, slowly, is still finishing me too.
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