I suppose I need to start with some inevitable background before I go into the meat of this story. I grew up in a small town in Eastern Europe, though I now live in Canada. I come from a farming family and we have always been quite poor. This resulted in a pretty calm, sheltered life. I had the same group of friends from kindergarten until graduating high school. I didn't have much but I was always happy and got along with most everyone.
Around the end of my last year of high school, my static world finally saw some change. The most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on moved into my town and enrolled in my high school. Her name was Veta, and she said she was from Ireland. Apparently, her father had relocated here to teach english at a small private school somewhere in town. However, I never actually met her father (or any other members of her family, if she had any). She said she had a falling out shortly after they moved, which caused her to leave home and finish her education in the public school.
I was not shy so I introduced myself to her very soon after I first saw her. Unlike the typical pretty girls in my town, she did not exhibit even an ounce of condescension toward me. Since my English was much better than the other kids our age, she started spending most of her time with me right from the start. She was so intoxicating to be around - I don't know if it was just my brain enamored with this sudden new stimulus, or if I would have loved her even if I was much more worldly, but I do know that I obsessed about her more than I have over anyone else in my life.
We started dating very soon after that, and my family, though incapable of communicating with her due to a language barrier, took a liking to her as well. A few months later, they even invited her to live with us, as she had been living in a tiny room in awful condition, since she could not afford else. We spent virtually every waking moment together - half the day at home, half the day in school, and all night in bed. The bed part eventually resulted in quite the surprise for both of us - she became pregnant about 6 months after we had met, despite our use of birth control. I had too many mixed feelings to recount, but the one that won out in the end was a feeling of pure bliss that me and the girl I love would be bringing a child into our humble world.
Unfortunately, the birth of my son, the happiest moment of my life so far, was accompanied by the saddest moment of my life so far as well - the death of my love. Veta experienced complications during the child birth and passed away. This new world that had just recently built up around me collapsed in a single night. I don't have a recollection of how I felt at the time. Having a newborn son to take care of and focus all my energy on left me little time to consider what had happened. I just had to push all feelings aside and concentrate on going to school while still doing enough work on the farm to make sure he was well fed and well clothed. He was so important and precious to me that the rest of the world seemed like background noise.
At first he slept in my bed with me until I could finish a proper room for him, which my father and I built as an attachment to our already exhisting house. When the room was complete, I built him a beautiful oak crib from scratch. I put the crib in the new room, along with a night stand with a photograph of his mother, and he started sleeping there.
Several uneventful months passed and things seemed to be returning back to normal. Before I knew it, my boy was turning one. The day of his first birthday was the first time I noticed something strange about his room. I had bought him a yellow helium-filled balloon and, at the end of the day, I tied the balloon to his crib so he could still look at it as he fell asleep. As I was walking out of the room, I turned around to see his sleeping face one last time before bed. This is when the balloon caught my attention...instead of rising straight up and making the string vertical, the string was in a diagonal state, pointing toward one of the corners of the room ceiling, as if a draft was blowing the balloon in that direction. Since all of the windows were closed, this struck me as strange, but I brushed it off for the time being.
Days later, I was sitting in my son's room and reading him a poorly translated version of the Jungle Book. When he fell asleep, I put the book onto the night stand and got out of my chair to go join my parents in the living room. When getting up, I accidentally knocked over the half-empty glass of water on the ground which I was periodically sipping while reading. The water spilled everywhere and I ran to the kitchen to get a cloth to soak it up. When I returned, I saw a sight so bizzare, I found it hard to believe I was awake. The water that had spilled on the ground had run toward the corner of the room in a long, narrow stream, and I could see a small streak of water seemingly running up the wall, toward the same corner of the ceiling that the balloon was leaning to before. I was very, very weirded out by this. I quickly soaked up the water and I slept in the chair in my son's room, I just didn't feel right leaving him alone there.
Over the next week, examining what was happening in that room became sort of like a project to me. I could offer no plausible explanation as to why things were drawn to that corner of the ceiling, so the best I could do was just study what was happening. At first, I did a few "weight" tests. I got another helium baloon and let it go without a string, and it floated to that corner of the ceiling pretty rapidly. A balloon full of air, on the other hand, seemed to be too heavy to be dragged up from the floor. Even with liquids, only a very small stream, maybe a droplet or two wide, would start climbing up the wall. And nothing as heavy as honey would even move at all. I also tried putting some flour on my hand and blew it in the air, and all the tiny flour powder grains slowly migrated toward that ceiling corner, as if sucked there by an invisible vacuum cleaner. Paper would also do the same if cut in tiny enough pieces. I spent day after day experimenting with different things in the evening, after school and work were done for the day. Nothing I did got me closer to understanding "the corner", but I did find out some interesting things, such as the fact that it was most "active" (capable of picking up heavier things) in the evening and late night, and it was completely inactive on some days. Eventually, I got bored of it (I could only see balloons fly toward it so many times), and I stopped playing around with it.
About a week after I stopped exploring it, the unimaginable happened. I put my son to bed one night, and I went into the living room to do some reading in my father's rocking chair. A few pages later, the weight of the day got to me and I became sleepy. I must have dozed off for no more than a few seconds, when the loudest sound I have ever heard jolted me to consciousness. I INSTANTLY recognized what the sound was - the pattern was that of my son's cry which I had learned quite intimately over his first year of life. But it was not a normal cry. It sounded like it was pitched down to a deep wail, and its volume was increased tenfold, as if the air through which it was reaching my ears was distorting it in a grotesque way. I ran for my son's room as fast as my legs would let me, and I slammed the door open. At that very moment, his cry completely vanished and the air went painfully still. My eyes immediately shot toward his crib and I was horrified to see it empty. My sight then automatically drifted to the ceiling corner, just in time to see my son's clothes fall down from it and land on the floor below. My son was not in them, nor was he anywhere to be found. I cannot even remember what I did after, but whatever it was, it was in vain. I never saw my son again.
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This story is about an unexplainable occurrence and the power of a mother's love for her child, making a dead mother one of the most creepiest things in the world, is written by Horrorinpureform from Reddit.com under reddit.com/r/nosleep. Because it hardly seems an exorcism can take care of dead mother who is out to protect her child and so overly attached that she takes her child into the afterlife with her.
Holy crap my mom just called and I'm not looking at my ceiling corner.....
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