The Nagging Mother
The lights dimmed slowly as the caretaker of the museum was locking everything up for the night. Everyone had gone home except for him. Mr. Whipple loved this alone time. The room that he believed was his was at the back of the building. It was actually a room that was used for storage of miscellaneous things. No one knew but he secretly slept here quite often.
On this particular night he stood at the Dutch door gazing in. He was thinking that it might be a good time to give his room a once over as the cobwebs were abundant.
Startled by an image of a woman standing off to the side of him he gasped. Was he really seeing a ghost?
“Mother is that you?”
“Yes my son, I’ve been hanging around here waiting for you to stop by. You should be ashamed of yourself for the state of this room. I suggest you get busy tonight and get it spic and span clean as it’s not fit for anyone to live in.”
“Yes mother,” he sighed.
Even after death she was still henpecking him.
©Susan Zutautas 2019
This short story was written for a challenge over at The Haunted Wordsmith