Brown Chair (a short horror story)

Brown Chair

Brown Chair

My little sister Janit is 3 years old. She was born June 6th 2016. She is a very curious girl and has short curly blonde hair. She dislikes dogs but loves our hamster, Chirp. We call him Chirp because he is very vocal. Our mother is our only parent because our father sadly passed away only a few months before my sister was born. My mother has a big heart and loves us both equally. She is sort of a short woman with a brown bob cut. She has bright blue green eyes that shine like she just saw the happiest thing in the world. She could turn any sad day happy with one look. I on the other hand have green eyes and long brown hair. My mother says I have beautiful hair that could look good any way. I wear glasses just like my mother. 

A long time ago when my dad was still alive, he had a small table in the garage. Next to the table he had a brown wooden chair. The chair was almost falling apart. It had paint stains all over it because my dad was creative and loved to paint. I still have a picture in my room of a picture he painted of my mom and I. When he died we kept some of his stuff. Like his paints and art supplies. We also kept his paint stained chair but got rid of the table. We moved the chair into my mother's room. One bright summer day Janit and I were looking in the garage for toys to play outside with. Out of the blue Janit told me, “It’s not here.’’ 

“What's not here?” I questioned because she never looks for something besides the jump rope and nothing happened to the jump rope. 

“The chair. With the paint splatters. The one that belongs to dad.” I then got shivers down my spine like someone tickles my back with a feather. You see we never told Janit about what happened to dad because we were afraid she would freak out. She's never even seen the chair because we are not aloud into moms room. And the chair is in her room. 

“What are you talking about, the chair is in moms room?” 

“Well it used to be out here.” She mumbled.

Dad died before she was born. We never mentioned that dad was dead or gone. She never knew that the brown chair existed. She never knew dad existed. She never knew anything about dad nor the chair. And she never will.