When my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for awhile in a charming old farmhouse.
We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the backyard. But our
favorite thing was the ghost.We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing.
Some mornings Betsy and I would wake up, and on each of our nightstands, we'd find a cup that
hadn't been there the night before. Mother had left them there, worried that we'd get thirsty
during the night. She just wanted to take care of us.Among the house's original furnishings was
an antique wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room. Whenever we
were preoccupied, watching TV or playing a game, Mother would inch that chair forward, across
the room, toward us. Sometimes she'd manage to move it all the way to the center of the room.
We always felt sad putting it back against the wall. Mother just wanted to be near us.Years later,
long after we'd moved out, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse's original
occupant, a widow. She'd murdered her two children by giving them each a cup of poisoned
milk before bed. Then she'd hanged herself.The article included a photo of the farmhouse's
living room, with a woman's body hanging from a beam. Beneath her, knocked over, was that
old wooden chair, placed exactly in the center of the room.
YOU ARE READING
50 Short Scary Stories
Short StoryEvery one has a story. Some are blessed enough to say they've never encountered a break-in or a ghost; but some people aren't. Are you ready to read the stories of the less fortunate? Who have experienced a dangerous situation in which could of cost...
