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 this 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 furnishing 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
Indonesian:
Saat saudara perempuanku dan aku masih kecil, keluarga kami pindah ke rumah desa yang nyaman. Kita suka menjelajahi pojokannya yang berdebu dan memanjat pohon apel di pekarangan belakang. Tapi yang paling kita sukai adalah hantu.
Kita memanggilnya Ibu, karena tampaknya dia sangat baik dan punya jiwa pengasuh. Suatu saat Betsy dan aku bangun pagi dan menemukan cangkir di meja kami yang tampaknya sudah berada semalaman disana. Ibu yang meletakkannya disana, ia tidak ingin kami kehausan saat malam. Ia benar-benar memperhatikan kita.
Diantara perabotan asli rumah itu, ada sebuah kursi kayu antik yang kita letakkan bersinggungan dengan tembok belakang ruang keluarga. Ketika kita asyik melihat TV atau bermain games, ia akan mendorong pelan-pelan kursi itu melintasi ruangan, menuju kita. Terkadang ia mengatur agar berada di tengah-tengah ruangan. Kita selalu sedih saat membawa kursi itu kembali ke tembok belakang ruangan. Ibu hanya ingin dekat dengan kita.
Bertahun-tahun kemudian setelah kita pindah dari sana, aku membaca artikel pada surat kabar tua tentang penghuni asli rumah desa itu, yaitu seorang janda. Dia membunuh dua anaknya dengan mencampurkan racun di susu yang akan mereka minum saat akan tidur. Lantas menggantung dirinya sendiri.
Artikel itu dilengkapi dengan foto ruang keluarga di rumah itu dengan seorang wanita tergantung lewat kuda-kuda kayu rumah. Dibawahnya, sebuah kursi kayu tua tergelimpang tepat di tengah ruangan.
*story by Reddit User whoeverfightsmonster
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