The Sensitive

TRUE STORY...
Hello, my name is Ambree. I am going to tell you a story that I will never forget. A long time ago when I was 10 years old, I came home from my school in a spooky mood. My school at the time was around 80 to 90 years old. Some weird things were happening that day and I was still searching for a tell that would give me the creeps. To solve my hunger for scary things, I ask my mother to tell me a spooky story. She hesitated and contemplated. Eventually, she fell into my temptation. We sat together on her bed and got comfortable, both excited. My mom has always been an amazing storyteller and apparently it's genetic. So, I was ready to dive into what she created.
Mom began, "Once upon a time there was a little girl around 3 years of age. She was energetic, petite and sheltered because her parents really cared about her. So, they banned movies that were remotely dark and the little child couldn't go outside without her parents. Just like a typical, loving and careful family should be. However, her parents noticed that they're child was acting differently. Creepy for a girl that doesn't know what creepy is.

It started out simple, she made up an "imaginary friend." Her name was Loopy and this little girl would tell stories about her adventures with her newly found friend to her parents frequently. It seemed innocent at first but it changed when the details got more unexplainable and ominous. Loopy had a family and they were all hispanic. Which would be fine and normal if the three year old girl was hispanic or even had hispanic blood in her but that wasn't the case. The three year old girl would pronounce these names with the accurate accents. If that wasn't strange enough, her stories then revealed they were all dead. Loopy looked black and charred and the last straw was when the petite girl happily came up to her mother saying, Loopy died in a fire with a big smile on her face. Seemingly pleased with herself to have finally discovered an important detail.
Soon after this, the little girl began to refuse to walk by the bathroom. She was terrified to go into the bathroom because by the toilet was an old lady with pitch black eyes. Next, she would play and communicate with boys that the parents could not see. There was a time the energetic toddler began balling in pain. My Back! My back, she hollered. The parents with great concern inspected the source of her pain and to their horror, discovered fresh welts on her back. How did this happen? They questioned and the toddler insisted that it was the mean boys.

The night time was the worst. Some nights the little girl would mumble complex Spanish names in her sleep. Sometimes, a seemingly peaceful slumber would be abruptly interrupted by blood curdling screams by the parent's daughter. In a rush, they would sprint down the hall to the room with the hysterical girl so enveloped with fear her face didn't even look like her own. It was now a common occurrence, night terrors, the worst nightmares possible. The little girl was in such absolute horror she couldn't even speak straight, mumbling mean lady repeatedly. No matter how much the parents would try to calm her down she would not. It would break the hearts of the parents and the worst part was once again there would be scratches on her back. Deep, wide scratches. They were too wide for her tiny fingers and in unreachable areas for her tiny arms. In conclusion, it turns out the little girl was a sensitive. A person who can see, communicate, and sense the dead."
Officially, satisfied with the chills. I had one question," Mom, you never told me the name of this girl. What is it?
Mom replied, " Her name is Ambree."