"My grandmother was born and bred in the house where she lived all of her life in Cornwall. She was a friendly but firm old soul with a large family and therefore had lots of grand and great-grand children.
From the age of about seventy-five, until she died at the ripe old age of ninety-eight, she always sat in the same corner of her living room, from morning until night, gently rocking herself in her old, wooden rocking chair.
Eventually granny went to where all good grandmothers go, after they have had their fill of rocking and life in general.
As the house was now empty, my father, after much negotiation with the rest of the family, decided to move into granny's house. He soon set about modernising things but somehow couldn't get rid of the old rocking chair which remained in the corner of the living room.
Finally my mother flipped and said the chair had to go. It didn't fit in with the other, more modern furnishings. Dad agreed to chop up it up. Not sure why, as he could probably have sold the chair, but that was what he decided.
Mum and dad were in bed the following night and heard strange creaks and noises from the attic immediately above their bedroom. In the morning, when dad had gone to work, mum plucked up courage and went to investigate the attic.
As she looked inside there was the old rocking chair and, as she watched, it started to gently rock backwards and forwards. It sent a chill up mum's spine.
In the evening dad admitted that he hadn't been able to throw the chair away for sentimental reasons and had therefore stored it up in the attic.
Mum reluctantly relented and the rocking chair was placed temporarily back in the corner of the living room, it's rightful place.
A couple of weeks later mum moved the chair to another room. After doing so mum and dad found that the chair would start to rock when anyone entered the room. Dad said it was just a coincidence, or the wind from the door being opened, but mum felt it was granny's ghost at work. She didn't feel comfortable and the rocking, when entering the room, went on for days and days.
Dad was under pressure from mum to sort it out. In a moment of bravado, or madness, he took the chair into the garden and started to break it up into pieces. Mum and I were horrified when we saw what he was doing, we rushed outside, but it was too late to stop him.
Nothing immediately happened, until we returned to the house and the living room. There, lying on the floor, was the new fireplace which had been recently fitted. It had come right away from the wall and lay shattered. Dad said it was Granny's Revenge.
Nowadays, when all is quiet, there is still sometimes a creak to be heard from the floorboards, in the corner where granny used to gently rock her chair. It's a constant reminder never to mess with granny because her ghost is always watching."
No comments:
Post a Comment