When my sisters Jojo, Sabrina and I were little, our family lived for a long time on a lovely old farm. We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the mango tree in the backyard. But what we liked the most was the ghost. We called her mother because she seemed so kind and loving.
Some mornings my sisters and I would wake up and on each of our nightstands we would find a cup of milk that hadn't been there the night before. Mom had left them there, worried that we would be thirsty during the night. She just wanted to take care of us. Among the original furniture in the house was an antique wooden rocking chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room.
Whenever we were preoccupied, watching TV or playing games, Mom would swing the rocking chair forward, across the room, toward us. Sometimes he managed to move it to the center of the room. We always feel sad putting it against the wall. My mother just wanted to be close to us.
Years later, long after we moved from the farm, I found an old newspaper about the farm's original owner, a widow. She had murdered his three daughters by giving each a cup of poisoned milk before going to bed. Then she hanged herself. The newspaper included a photo of the living room of the country house, with the body of a woman hanging from a rope. Below her, lying down, was that old wooden rocking chair, positioned exactly in the center of the room.
The end
A horror story version by Natalia Peralta, Step 9 Blue.
