The Cross (scary challenge)

The cross we buried my father under was a very old one. It was passed down through my family generation by generation, and my father said he was the one who wanted to use it. My brother joked about how his greedy use of the family heirloom would cost him in the end. I never believed him. What a stupid child I was.

It started the night after we buried him, in my dreams. I would dream about it, but in the end, the cross would be the only thing I could see, only it had my name on it. It was in the very front of my vision, almost as if it was taunting me. I woke up screaming, and when I told my mother she just said that was my way of grieving. Stupidly, I believed her. The dreams continued month after month. Then, I started seeing it in other places. At school, in the grocery store. I never told anyone because I clung to what my mother told me; I was just grieving.

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