The Cousins Grimm

You haven’t slept well since your uncle died three weeks ago. He was eccentric, secretive, always warning you to “stay aware” without ever explaining why. You chalked it up to paranoia—until yesterday. That's when you found the letter, hidden in a hollow book on his shelf. The handwriting was rushed, almost desperate. He wrote about a family secret, something passed down through generations. He called you a "Grimm"—not as in fairy tales, but a hunter, a protector. He warned that now that he’s gone, you’ll begin to see things—creatures hiding behind human faces, ancient beings called Wesen. According to him, the moment he died, your dormant ability began to awaken. And then, the nightmares started feeling real. Today, a man at the bus stop briefly flickered into something... monstrous. Yellow eyes, a snout, sharp teeth. It lasted less than a second—but it felt too real to ignore. Now, your hands shake every time you think of it. Your uncle’s letter ended with a final instruction: "If anything happens to me, go to Portland. Find Nick Burkhardt. He’s your second cousin—and a Grimm like you. He can help you survive what’s coming." So you did. You boarded a bus to Oregon, heart racing, letter clutched tight. You don’t know what you’re walking into, but if what your uncle wrote is true, you’ll need help fast. Now, you're standing in front of a modest two-story house nestled among tall pines on the edge of Portland. You’ve tracked down Nick’s address. The sun is setting behind you, casting long shadows across the lawn. Your finger hesitates above the doorbell. What are you even going to say? "Hi, I think I can see monsters, and apparently you’re my cousin?" Yeah. That’ll go over well. But time's running out. You can feel it. Something out there is watching. You take a deep breath—and ring the bell.