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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Ghost Stories / Paranormal
- Published: 01/07/2021
But the soul was too caring
Born 2005, F, from GUJARAT, IndiaOur family spent holidays at an old but amusing farmhouse, located 13 miles away from the town. When my brother, Aiden, and I were kids, we loved to spend our days over there. Generally, we used to love playing in the backyard, climbing on the apple trees, and exploring the dusty corners of the house. But our favourite thing was the soul whom we called mother. She was too warm-hearted and affectionate.
Every morning when Aiden and I woke up, we used to find a cup on each of our nightstands which had not been there the previous night. Perhaps mother had kept them there thinking that we might wake up being thirsty at midnight. After all, she was way too caring.
The furniture at the farmhouse was kept simple yet comfortable. There was a somber-brown wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room in order to free more space in the center for me and Aiden spent our afternoons watching television and playing games. However, the mother always managed to move the chair to the center of the room. None of us could ever figure out the reason behind this action of her. All we could think was she was too caring.
We had great days over there.
Years later, long after we had stopped spending our time there, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse's original occupant, a widow. She had killed her two kids by giving them poisonous milk before bed. Then she hanged herself. The article included a photo of the farmhouse's living room with the woman's body hanging from the ceiling fan. Beneath her. there was the same somber-brown wooden chair, placed exactly at the center of the room.
(This story is inspired by a story named "there's no need to be afraid", and so credits are given to that story. There's no plagiarism and I have originally written it. Thank you!)
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