The Lit­tle Hands

Reader's Digest International - - Drama In Real Life - Red­ con­trib­u­tor PATENTED SPACE HOOK

I’VE NEVER LIVED in a haunted house, but my mother did as a teen. Other houses on her street had strange things go­ing on too. A few homes away from her lived a man and his fam­ily. One night, one of his daugh­ters went to bed with a bad headache. The next day, she was dead—she’d passed away from an aneurysm. Af­ter the funeral, the fam­ily went away to get their minds off the tragedy, and the fa­ther asked my un­cle—my mom’s brother— to check on their pets. My mom and dad (they were dat­ing then) went with my un­cle; my mother had heard there was a grand piano and she wanted to play it, and my dad was study­ing to be a vet­eri­nar­ian.

Af­ter en­ter­ing the house, my un­cle and my fa­ther headed to the base­ment to see the an­i­mals, and my mother went to the piano on the ground floor. She was play­ing it when she felt some­thing brush her an­kles. She thought a cat must have left the base­ment and walked past her. She kept play­ing, and she felt it again. She looked un­der the piano and saw noth­ing. When she started again, she felt hands clasp her legs and grab them tightly. She dashed to the base­ment door, called my un­cle and fa­ther, and waited for them. When they all walked out­side, my un­cle could tell my mom was rat­tled and asked what was wrong. She told him what had hap­pened, and he turned white. He told her the daugh­ter who died used to play a game with her fa­ther. When he’d play the piano, she’d crawl un­der­neath, grab his an­kles, and push his feet up and down on the ped­als.

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