"When I was younger, I always lived in different homes," my mom started her story. "I know, Mom, you've told me this story, like, a hundred times." My mom glared at me. "Anyway," she continues, "Once, I lived in a farm house. Our neighbors died years ago, but their house was still across the field, behind the farm. Every day, the woman would sit on her rocking chair cradling her baby to get it to stop crying. Then she and her baby would disappear, but the chair would still rock back and forth."
"Mom, is this supposed to be scary?" I asked, interrupting her story. "Shush!" she snarled, "Now then, at night time you could hear the baby crying for hours. You could hear footsteps all around the house, and when you look out a window you'd see many ghosts just standing out there, staring back at you. They carried candles and their eyes glowed a yellow orange colour. A few moans and groans as well. After about 30 or 40 minutes of them staring at our house, and the animals freaking out, the ghosts finally disappear. After that, my older sister got custody and-" We said together, "She kicked you out cause you were late coming home."
This is a true story, don't believe me? Ask my mom herself.