This happened to me when I was 14 to 18. It started one night out of no where, when I was 14.
My family was living in a house built around 1910 at the time. I, being tired of sharing a room with a sister who was five and a half years younger than me, managed to get my parents to understand that I needed my own space. So I was given the loft. I didn't think it was something awful at first. In fact, I thought it was kinda cool.
The event didn't start until about six months after I moved into the loft. I was a nightbird when I was a teen. I would stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning most of the time (even on a school night).
One night, I was laying in bed, reading a true crime book when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I thought it was my mom or dad at first. They would come up and tell me to go to sleep all the time. But when I turned my head, I realized it wasn't either of my parents. It was a young girl.
She looked to be about 12 or 13, and wearing old fashion clothing. A long sleeve white nightgown that reached the ground and a white night cap. There was lace around the bottom of her nightgown, the end of the sleeves and around the edge of the night cap. But seeing the ghost of the girl wasn't what bothered me. But before I go on let me back up a bit here.
From the doorway to my room was a "narrow" path, with a built in shelf on one side, and my four foot tall dresser on the other side. Then the chimney was on the same side as the built in shelf. With the wall dropping back a bit about a foot and a half after my dresser. Now with that done, lets get back to the story.
So for like the first month I didn't think too much of this ghost girl in my room. It was about the third week when I finally realized that she would show up at midnight every night. I had even tried setting my clock ahead like an hour to see if that would affect her. But it didn't, so I reset my clock.
About the sixth week after I first noticed this ghost girl, I paid close attention to what she did each night. And that was what scared me the most. She would run from my doorway to just pass the chimney and pitch forward like something was hitting her in the back. It was the same thing night after night.
It wasn't for another week before I finally saw the whole picture. She would run from my doorway, make it just pass the chimney and pitch forward. That was because of a pitch black hand coming out from next to the chimney and looked like it was stabbing her in the back.
I never could find out anything about her. It's kinda sad really. But I just started calling her Midnight Mary. It seemed to suite her. I could tell, when I would tell my parents about her, that neither would believe me. But who would believe a teen with a VERY over active imagination?
Story Credit: Kasia, Oregon.
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