Geraldine, Grandma and The Ghost

Grandma Henderson had said there was no baby in the house.  But the crying was coming from this room.  I felt like a thief, or something, as I slowly turned the knob and opened the door. Mist, fog, glowing like a scary show on TV, swirled around a baby sitting on a small wooden bed.  The baby - it could be a toddler maybe as old as three- was dressed in some kind of white nightgown.  Behind its blond head, the headboard glowed in the mist with carved painted fruit, grapes, apples and other stuff in an old-fashioned design.  I couldn't move.  My knees shook and I felt weak.