Jessica Day George

She lifted the pitcher and poured water into the basin. As it ran into the white porcelain, the water turned green. Ellen nearly dropped the heavy pitcher, only just managing to put it back on the table in time. From the glowing green water, she heard a kindly voice speaking.
“Poor dear! All alone in the world, aren’t you?”
Ellen whirled around, but the door was still closed and there wasn’t another soul in the room. “Who said that?” Her voice came out thin and shaky.
“They call me the Corley,” the voice said. “But I am also your godmother, my dear. Pour more water into the pitcher, that I may see you.”
“What?”
“When you pour water, I can see you,” the voice said, still patient and soft. It was a plump voice, a gentle voice, the voice of a grandmother in a lace cap and woolen shawl. “Pour the water, dear Eleanora, and let us talk.”
Still shaking, Ellen picked up the pitcher again.

Source : difunkychronicles.com