The Return of the Dead Mother

Summary

The day my mom was cremated, I collected her ashes with my own hands. I buried the urn, I burned the paper offerings. She died, and for three straight years, I barely slept.

But last night, she came back.

She stood at the door, wearing the same nightgown from the fire, tapping softly. Her voice, gentle, called out, “Ethan, Mom’s home.”

I didn’t dare open the door, didn’t even dare breathe. But she knew I was inside.