This short story begins sufficiently kindly, with a cordial appearing phantom playing with kids, however when you gain proficiency with the starting points of the phantom - and exactly why the phantom is moving the article around the room, it rapidly gets significantly creepier. Submitted through Reddit by,

"At the point when my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for a little while in a beguiling old farmhouse. We adored investigating its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the lawn. In any case, our #1 thing was the apparition. We called her Mom, since she appeared to be so kind and sustaining. A few mornings Betsy and I would awaken, and on each of our end tables, we'd find a cup that hadn't been there the prior night. Mother had left them there, stressed that we'd get parched during the evening. She simply needed to deal with us. Among the homes' unique goods was an antique wooden seat which we kept against the back mass of the parlor. Whenever we were engrossed, sitting in front of the television or playing a game, Mother would inch that seat forward, across the room, toward us. Some of the time she'd figure out how to move it the whole way to the focal point of the room. We generally felt miserable returning it against the wall. Mother simply needed to be close to us. Years after the fact, long after we'd moved out, I found an old paper article about the farmhouse's unique tenant, a widow. She'd killed her two youngsters by providing them with each some harmed milk before bed. Then, at that point, she hung herself. The article incorporated a photograph of the farmhouse's lounge, with a lady's body dangling from a bar. Underneath her, pushed over, was that old wooden seat, put precisely in the focal point of the room."

…Did it get colder in here, or is it just me?
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