The Shrinking Ribbon

My gran kept a locked jar by her bed with a faded pink ribbon inside. Every single night

she whispered to it, not yet darling, soon. I thought she was

losing it. When she died, I broke that jar open. The ribbon slithered

out like it was alive and wrapped itself tight around my wrist. I tried cutting

it off, burning it, nothing worked. Now I hear her voice whispering in my

ear, your turn to wait darling, soon. The ribbon pulses

with every heartbeat. And here's the terrifying part. It shrinks a little bit every single

night.