i am related to a supernatural entity, and this is my story

epicene-street-light:

So
ive been seeing and reblogging those posts that deal with cryptids
and faes and all, and i just want to  tell you my own encounter with
a cryptid (who is also part of my family), because who can stop me,
right

okay
so. i
was 13 at the time, and staying with my best friend of that time at
my grandma’s place. Her house is HUGE. Like, really, the old family
house in the french countryside with lots of rooms and all. And,
since its really old, everything makes noises. The stairs crack
loudly. The doors scream. Nothing more normal than that, since it’s
been there since the 19^th
century.

On
this particular day, my grandma had to go idk where for the day,
probably visiting some family member or something, and was really
stressed out because we were alone for the day (she’s a really
anxious person), and a man (“le cousin Bernard”) was supposed to
come around noon to do some electric work in the kitchen. So we’re
like, it’s okay, no big deal. She then leaves, after she’s made
sure the main door is locked twice. Locked, then, and the keys
were on the lock, so that even someone who would have the keys
wouldn’t be able to open the door. Now, she lives in a ridiculously
small village, so you have to come by car to visit her, and there’s
gravel in the parking spot, which is, again, REALLY loud. You can
here a car parking even when the radio is playing and you’re using
the mixer, i
mean.

So
she’s gone, and the house is dead silent, we’re quietly doing a
jigsaw, waiting for the doorbell to ring and the gravel to squeal.
And then, we hear a man’s voice in
the fucking corridor, saying
“hello? Is anyone here?”. We look at each other, livid. That
voice sounds pretty close for someone who is, HAS to be outside. And
we didn’t hear no gravel squealing nor any car.

We
leave the living room. A man is there, just in front of us. He says,
“i am your Cousin Bernard”. We’re trying not to panic, my
friend shows him the kitchen, and i
go investigate on the mystery of the man who somehow got inside
silently, when all the windows were closed (i
checked), whose car was silent,
and
all. The door is still locked. Twice. As i
locked it earlier. The keys are still on the lock, and they’re
completely still, which, i
mean, isn’t normal. If he had used the doorknob to, somehow, manage
to come inside, they shouldn’t be perfectly still. Not to mention
this doorknob and door are loud.
You
can hear someone opening them from the basement, i
mean.

We’re
positively terrified. On the outside, he looks like a regular white
man. Racist, wearing a white tshirt with a drawing of a giant condom
(??), eats lunch with us, then starts to work on the electric thing.

When
my grandma finally comes back and he leaves, we tell her the whole
story, and she laughs. “Yes, he’s pretty weird. Every person I
know who met him told me those stories. Your uncle is sure he’s a
wizard or something. But, honestly, he’s nice and helping, so I
don’t really care.”

I
ask her how we were related to him. Shes very evasive. “I
don’t really know. He’s always been there. He’s Cousin
Bernard.”

And
that, my friends, was the story of how im somehow related to a
supernatural entity.