Politically Incorrect Stories: La Nina En La Escalera Poem by Morgan Michaels

Once there were three children who lived with their father and mother. Their house was old but marketable and stood in the corner of a remote suburb. Tragically, their father died suddenly, leaving the children in the care of his wife, who was not the children's biological mother, but who adapted them soon after her husband's death.

The children's new mother soon tired of the children because they annoyed her immensely. But she decided not to put them up for adaption because of the income derived on their behalf from the state. Instead, she beat them unmercifully and often, leaving off only when she went to the Post Office. What's more, she neglected them liberally and frequently sent them to bed without supper.

One day, in the course of a particularly vigorous beating, the youngest child (for whom her step-mother had a special animus) accidentally slipped from the landing and fell downstairs. Arriving at bottom, she lifted her head weakly and whispering 'demasiado' (which means 'this is the limit') and succumbed, promptly. Her step-mother was aghast and resolved to move to the city, to escape prosecution.

The house quickly sold for less than market value. The new buyers were delighted, at first, but quickly sold in turn. But, at least twice weekly they were wakened by the sound of an incorporeal voice crying 'help, help' from the foot of the stairs. The house was haunted, they concluded, which was not to their taste so they decamped, telling the new buyers nothing. Shortly after their move-in these began to hear knocking at their bedroom door and a childish voice pleading for a glass of water.

'At this hour'? Forget it', and 'You've gotta be kidding', they replied night after night, but the voice persisted. One night, one of the men got up and opened the door quickly but there was no one there. Realizing the house was haunted they had the place listed and soon found a buyer, neglecting to mention the kid. When they told the story later at dinner parties nobody believed them.

The third buyer was not easily phased, because she'd lived in the Chelsea Hotel for many years. She soon got used to the apparition on the stairs (it had come that far) and marveled at the way a shoe pitched at the phantom seemed to pass through empty air, falling with a clatter to the hall below. For her life, she could not decide whether the child-ghost's intentions were wholesome or whether it was, in effect, inviting the owners to share its fate. After a time she left the house, thinking discretion the better part of valor.

The house is now generally acknowledged to be haunted. Most people feel the little phantasm will never leave. So it stands vacant in the midst of an over-grown lawn, affecting property values for blocks around, to this day.



translated from the Spanish by Morgan Michaels