I was six years old hopping off the plane, landing in Tonga. I started to walk towards the airport having this strong urge to look towards my left. I took a glimpse on the corner of my eye and then turned my head fully. I started to cry, pulling my dad's hand I kept screaming "look at that girl!!" He just said "what girl?"There was a girl standing in front of the woods shining blue, brushing her hair.
The problem was her head was in her hand.
After seven years I finally found out what happened to this poor girl.
They were a normal Tongan family.They went to church every Sunday except for the daughter. She made excuses every Sunday not to go church. When her family came home they would find hair all over the floor (NOTE:she had beautiful long, black, silk hair.). One Sunday they found her dead in her room lying there with no head. Her cut hair was lying all over the floor. They never found her head till one night the son was told to go downstairs into the basement to fetch a box of hair brushes. He opened the door to find his sister brushing her hair with her head in her lap shining blue. She soon vanished and left her head lying there on the chair.