I was about 6 or 7, and we lived in an OLD farm house in upper Illinois. The house was built in the early 20's as were most of the farm houses in that area, and each of them I'm sure had there own stories. Mine was a little closer to the heart. So here it goes!
At that age it was normal to have imaginary friends. I was no exception. Her name was Elizabeth. She had long brown hair, with little curls in it and wore a little white ribbon. She had on an older style dress that looked like it was from the early 20's. Short to the knees and stockings. The bottom of the dress ruffled out and she wore black hightop shoes. It was so vivid to me, like she couldn't be more real.
We did everything together. My brother always picked on me about her, but I'm almost positive he had one when he was little too, so I always let it go.
My mom had put us to bed early that night. It was the first day of school, as I can remember, the next day. Mom and Dad always stayed up late to watch tv and relax. I guess we were all asleep by the time my Mom had seen the light coming down the stairs. I guess she thought it was one of us so she called out my name and said GET BACK TO BED!! But no answer and the light kept descending the stairs. She sat at the couch with my Dad sleeping next to her and watched the stair well. Mom had an old curio at the bottom of the stairs that she kept a lot of her antique things, books, vases, just little things that were given and found thru the years. Mom watched the light fill the stairway as it got closer to the bottom. When it came out from around the corner, Mom could do nothing but sit there with her eyes wide and her mouth open. She couldn't even move to wake my Dad up. She watched the shape go to the curio and point at a book that was inside. Then vanished.
I know this sounds nuts, but it is true. Mom didn't even investigate, she woke my father up and said "lets go to bed" she said she wasn't going to stay there after that. The next morning, after all of us got up, she went and looked at where the shape had pointed. I was standing there with her. When she opened the book, the pages stuck together and the only ones that weren't had a picture of a little girl with long dark hair, a ribbon in it and a light colored dress. Under the picture was the name Elizabeth Price. It told the story of how she died, and where she lived. It was a book of child tragedies, in the area I grew up.
I never saw her again, and to this day I'm not quite sure if it was that house or another one close by where she died. All I know is that I miss her, and one day, tho I am 30 now, she'll be back.
Thanks for reading my story.