The Granny

Table of Contents

When Margaret, though she preferred everyone to simply call her Granny, moved into the quiet little town of Everford, she appeared to be the sort of elderly woman who belonged in a cozy countryside postcard. Her hair was perfectly silver, tied neatly into a bun. She wore flowery dresses and always smelled faintly of lavender and peppermint tea. To most people, she seemed harmless, sweet, and perhaps a little lonely.

Shortly after settling in, she began scanning local newspapers and community bulletin boards, looking for work. At her age, heavy labor was out of the question, but there were plenty of jobs in the “Help Wanted” section that didn’t require much physical strain. One in particular caught her eye: nanny services needed—flexible hours—good with children a must. It was perfect.

Granny wasted no time applying. She visited multiple homes, smiling warmly at parents, offering them her homemade cookies, and listening intently as they described their schedules. Many parents in Everford worked long hours—some commuting to the city—so finding reliable childcare was a constant struggle. She presented herself as a solution to their problems: dependable, grandmotherly, and full of patience for young minds.

Within a week, she had secured jobs in several households, rotating between them depending on which parents needed her. The children adored her. She brought them little candies wrapped in old-fashioned paper, read them fairy tales in her soft, lilting voice, and told them stories about “the old days” that made their imaginations spark. The parents, too, were grateful, describing her as a blessing who had entered their lives at just the right time.

Two months passed in this blissful arrangement. Then Granny abruptly quit. She claimed she was too tired to keep up with the demands of multiple families and wanted to “rest her old bones.” The parents were disappointed but thanked her for her service, wishing her well in her retirement.

What no one realized was that during her time as a nanny, Granny had been doing more than watching over the children. She had been studying. Memorizing. Observing every detail of the families’ lives—their exact work schedules, the routes they took, the time it took them to get home. She had learned which children attended which schools, what time classes ended, and how easy it might be to take them before their parents arrived.

Two weeks after she left her last nanny job, a strange series of events shook Everford. It began on a Thursday afternoon. Parents arriving at schools to pick up their children were told by confused staff members that the children had already been picked up—by their nanny. At first, each parent thought it must have been a misunderstanding. But when this happened to multiple families in the same day, panic set in.

The police were immediately contacted. Officers visited each school, asking for a description of the nanny who had taken the children. To the shock of investigators, the descriptions matched perfectly: an elderly woman, silver hair in a bun, floral dress, glasses perched on her nose, smelling faintly of lavender. The woman smiled sweetly, signed the children out, and left without incident. But the police quickly discovered something disturbing: the woman in question did not match the legal name or ID of any registered nanny in the town.

Days passed without any sign of the missing children. Parents barely slept, waiting for their phones to ring, hoping for a ransom demand that never came. Then, one cold evening, an elderly man walked into the Everford Police Station with a strange report. He explained that he had seen an old woman leading a small group of children into a large, run-down house on the edge of town. He thought nothing of it at first—until he recognized the woman from the news coverage about the disappearances.

The police rushed to the location. What they found inside would scar them for life. In the dimly lit dining room, a long wooden table was set as though for a feast. But instead of a meal, there were plates holding something unspeakable: the severed heads of children, each carefully positioned and adorned with their school name tags. Some still wore innocent expressions, as if caught mid-laugh. Others had eyes wide open in frozen terror. The rest of their bodies were nowhere to be found.

Officers gagged at the stench of decay mixed with the metallic tang of blood. The house was eerily quiet, save for the sound of flies buzzing in the shadows. Whoever had done this was meticulous—nothing appeared to have been stolen except for the lives of the children. The forensics team immediately began their grim work. DNA and fingerprint samples were collected from every surface. They also examined the plates, cutlery, and glasses on the table, hoping for a trace of the killer’s identity.

When the lab results came back, they revealed the truth: the Granny was not a woman at all. The fingerprints matched a man named Jacob Albright-once a well known makeup artist in the film industry, specializing in realistic prosthetics and disguises. Years earlier, Jacob had been convicted of cannibalism and the brutal murder of multiple children. Psychiatrists deemed him criminally insane, and he was committed to Matteawan State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, a maximum-security facility.

Eight months before the Everford crimes, Jacob had escaped during a prison transfer. His trail went cold. The police now realized they had been chasing not a sweet elderly nanny, but a master of disguise—a predator who could alter his face, his posture, even his voice. Witnesses had described a frail, grandmotherly figure because that’s exactly what Jacob wanted them to see. He had used his skills in prosthetic application to craft the perfect Granny persona. And while parents trusted him with their children, he was planning their deaths in chilling detail.

The case made national headlines. People were horrified not just by the murders, but by the calculated way Jacob had embedded himself into the lives of his victims. He hadn’t needed to break into homes or snatch kids from the street—he’d been invited inside.

Authorities searched relentlessly for Jacob, combing through abandoned houses, bus stations, and rural cabins. But he had vanished as though swallowed by the earth. Every few months, reports would surface of an “old woman” seen in various towns, often near schools or playgrounds. Each time, police would investigate, but Jacob always stayed one step ahead.

The most disturbing part? He had left no physical evidence in the house tying him directly to the murders beyond the fingerprints, no personal items, no tools, no DNA other than what investigators suspected he had deliberately planted to taunt them. It was as though the man was daring them to catch him, knowing they couldn’t.

Even now, years later, the case remains open. The Everford parents never recovered from their loss, and the town never regained its sense of safety. Rumors circulate about Jacob’s whereabouts—some say he fled overseas, others believe he’s still here, living among the unsuspecting, waiting for his next chance.

The children’s empty graves sit in the town cemetery, each marked with a small plaque. Every Halloween, someone leaves a bouquet of lavender on each one. The police believe it’s Jacob, mocking them.

As for the rest of the world, his name is now whispered in cautionary tales told to children: Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t trust appearances. And if an old lady offers to babysit, make sure she’s really an old lady. Because Jacob Albright is still out there. And the Granny hungers again.