Lately, our little boy Hudson has changed. He used to be a bundle of joy, always laughing and playing, but now, he’s been crying non-stop, scared of everything, and even started to stutter. He kept saying a ghost was following him at home. It really freaked me out, so I wanted to take his mind off those spooky thoughts.
A Frightening Encounter
Last weekend, we went to the children’s room and then out for some ice cream at a local cafe. I was sitting there with Hudson when suddenly, he turned pale upon seeing one of the waitresses. He started shaking and crying, and I was just terrified for him.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked, trying to calm him.
“It’s a ghost…Dad told me,” he whispered, clutching my hand tightly.
“There are no ghosts, baby…”
“This one is real! I saw her in our house a few days ago, but Dad said he’d protect me and…,” Hudson trailed off, his eyes wide with fear.
Unraveling the Mystery
The mention of his father sent chills down my spine. Hudson’s father and I had separated a year ago, and he had visitation rights every weekend. But what could he possibly have told Hudson to make him this terrified? Determined to get to the bottom of this, I decided to have a talk with my ex-husband, James.
When I confronted James, he seemed genuinely surprised and concerned about Hudson’s behavior. “I have no idea what he’s talking about,” he insisted. “I’ve never mentioned any ghosts to him.”
But Hudson’s fear was real, and I knew something was terribly wrong. I decided to investigate further, starting with the waitress at the cafe. Her name was Emily, and she looked about my age, with a kind but sad expression.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but my son seems to be really scared of you. Do you know why that might be?” I asked her.
Emily looked shocked. “I’ve never seen your son before today,” she said, her eyes widening. “I can’t imagine why he’d be afraid of me.”
Dark Revelations
Determined to protect Hudson, I started to dig into James’s past. I discovered that Emily had been a close friend of his in college. They had lost touch over the years, but there was something more sinister in their past. Emily had been involved in a tragic accident that left her in a coma for months. When she woke up, she claimed to have seen spirits and was shunned by many, including James.
“Do you think it’s possible that Hudson might be sensing something…supernatural?” I asked hesitantly.
Emily sighed. “I don’t know. But if he’s seeing something, it might be related to that accident. I never meant to scare him.”
Just then, Hudson’s voice piped up from behind me. “Mommy, she’s the ghost I saw in our house.”
Emily and I exchanged horrified looks. “Hudson, what do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding.
He explained in his little voice, “I saw her in the living room. She was crying and told me she was sorry.”
Emily’s face went white. “That sounds like me. I used to visit James at his place sometimes. Maybe…I left some part of me there.”
My Stepdaughter Insisted I Reassign All Her Deceased Father’s Possessions into Her Name – I Complied, Yet She Was Unpleased
The emptiness of George’s departure permeates their residence, his presence enduring in the shirt Mariana grips nightly. However, it wasn’t his passing that devastated her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s insistence on inheriting his wealth. When she reluctantly agreed, an unexpected twist left Susan enraged and Mariana strangely content.
Progressing past the death of a dear one is always challenging. At times, I still sense my husband George’s voice echoing in my mind. I awaken holding his cherished shirt, his fragrance still clinging to the material. Yet, as I mourned him, my stepdaughter’s actions… they utterly broke me…
I am Mariana, aged 57, wed to the kindest man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, aged 34, from an earlier marriage.
Our bond with Susan was once good. She addressed me as “Mom” and filled the gap in my heart from not bearing my own children. I never viewed her as “another’s” child. I cherished her as my own daughter, truly.
When Susan wed her chosen partner, George and I were thrilled. But then, everything deteriorated when George received a terminal cancer diagnosis.
Susan’s visits reduced from weekly to monthly, then ceased entirely. She seldom visited her father, occasionally phoning to inquire about his health.
One day, she posed a question that tore me apart. “How long does he have left?”
Clutching the phone tightly, my voice shook. “Susan, your father isn’t an item with an expiration date.”
“I just need to know, Mom. I’m swamped, you know that… I can’t come by often,” she responded.
“Swamped?” I repeated, my tone filled with disbelief. “Too swamped to visit your dying father?”
She exhaled deeply. “Look, I’ll attempt to come soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never materialized.
Then, the dreaded day arrived. The hospital informed me that George had passed away peacefully.
I was devastated, barely able to stand as the reality sank in. My beloved George, gone.
Shockingly, Susan didn’t attend his funeral. When I called her, she promptly excused herself.
“I’m expecting, Mom,” she stated, her tone strangely indifferent. “The doctors advised against lengthy travel due to some medical concerns.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you wish to bid him farewell one last time?”
“I can’t jeopardize my baby’s health,” she curtly replied. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not truly, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, dear. Take care.”
As I sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t dismiss the notion that our relationship had irrevocably changed.
Six months post-George’s death, I was startled by a loud knock at my door. Opening it, I saw Susan and her husband Doug, along with a severe-looking man in a suit.
Susan entered without greeting. “Mom, we need your signature on some documents.”
Baffled, I blinked. “Which documents?”
Doug handed me a stack of papers, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. They’re for transferring all the properties into our names.”
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