Horror Stories.

5.

When my daughter was three, she woke up one morning looking rough and sleepy. I asked her if she slept okay and she said.

"No!" She grumpyly said and put her head on her palm, looking tired as ever.

"Why, what's wrong love?." I asked her and went to her side, I held her against my chest and started caressing her brown hair.

"Papa kept me up all night pinching my toes!" she said and stood up to go eat her breakfast.

Papa, her father, my husband, passed away eight years ago with an accident before she was born. That's how he used to wake me up before he went to his job.