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My Room, My Friend

Krystal, Massachusetts, USA
March 1999

It was the summer of 98' and my family was moving into my 104 year old house. Now as a 15 year old girl I wanted the room on the 3rd floor. It was big and private or so I thought! It first started as little things, things that you might not even notice until they happen a faint smell of flowers, or the faint sound of someone gently gliding across the floor. Even things that I would leave out of place, I would return home from school and they would be returned to there place. I would ask my family if they had gone into my room and the answer was always NO!! The biggest thing was yet to happen.

It was a hot summer night and I was in my room watching a movie with my brother. At first i could feel something was going to happen.I could smell the perfume and I could hear the soft sound of walking.I just knew more would happen and I got goose bumps and my skin crawled. We were laying on the bed when my brother screamed. I asked him what was the matter. I thought he was just trying to scare me. He said he had seen a very pretty lady in a white wedding dress. Then at the same time we heard the faint turning of a doorknob. It ended and we watched a locked cabinet open. We ran as fast as we could down the stairs! My mom was in her room watching TV when we went running down. She didn't believe us at first, until she heard the sound of the footsteps. We all cautiously went upstairs. All afraid of what we might find, but there was nothing! Absolutely nothing.

That night I slept in my brothers room. As I was falling asleep I could hear the soft sound of the faint footsteps. I understood that night that I would have a friend in my new room. She has been my friend now for quite some time. She has been there when no one else was, I can feel her there there helping me showing me everything will be alright. She is there when I'm alone when I'm quiet and just need a rest. She is there while I pray to God at night for my family and for the world. She is my special friend and it is for her that I write this story.

Krystal, Massachusetts, USA
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