She Couldn't Let It Happen Again
Rebecca Dubois, Texas, USA
October 2000
First let me give you some background. I did not live with my mother until I was 14. I have always been sensitive and I am the only one in my family who is. My mother only believes this story because of the evidence we found later.
When I came to live with my mother in a small house in Dallas, she lived in the servants house of the original landowners property. The land had been divided many years before for a subdivision. There are 4 houses between the servant house and the main house now.
I shared a room with my 2 sisters. It was a large room, at least 12x20. My bed was position closest to the hall door. I started having the dreams as soon as I moved in. It was always the same. A girl standing in my door with her arms crossed saying "Don't go there. You'll get hurt." I had the dream almost every night but they ended on night when I was up late on the phone with my boyfriend.
About 3am my room became so cold I could see my breath. My dog left my bed for my sister's. I got up to check the thermostat in the hall. As I stepped in the hall I was shoved back in my room. Not hard enough to knock me down but enough to send me back through the door. When I got my balance, I took a step toward the door. She appeared in the doorway. I could even smell her hair, like flowers. She told me her name was Elizabeth. She wanted me to be safe and the hall was not a safe place. I was not scared. I could see kindness in her. My younger sister threw a pillow at me and said to keep the noise down.
I did not see her again but I was helping my family get Christmas decorations down from the attic and as I started up the ladder a horrible smell over took me. I could not go up the ladder.
About 6 months later we were remodeling our kitchen. We ripped into a wall and found a bundle of papers. We looked through them. They were cards and newspaper clippings. The cards were condolences for a death. The news clippings were about a 13 year old girl who fell to her death through a attic fan in the ceiling. Her name.....Elizabeth.
I kept the paper clippings until I married and my mother packed my room and threw them out.