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I have been able to see, talk and listen to spirits since I was four years old. I have had several experiences with many different ghosts -- and sometimes, they have been evil. At other times, they just wanted someone to listen to them, or to see something they had died without seeing.
My sisters and I were at a historical house and museum so that we could go on a tour. I don't remember too much about the actual tour, because I was very young, but I do remember exactly what happened to me during our visit. I started hearing noises by the time we got into the third room, and I was sort of scared, because it seemed like I was the only one hearing them.
Finally, we got up the stairs and I stopped cold. I felt the presence of a little girl about my age. My sisters hadn't noticed, and neither did the tour guide, so they all kept going. I saw the girl standing across the room. She motioned for me to follow her.
I didn't know what to do because I was so young, so I decided to do what she asked. She was fast; I had to jog just to stay two steps behind her. She went down a long corridor, turned, and went through a door that was halfway down the hall. It was left partially open and I wanted to see where she had gone, so I went through, too.
As soon as I took one step into the room, the door slammed shut and I almost jumped out of my skin. I was scared, but I didn't dare turn around. I just closed my eyes and waited until whatever this experience was ended.
After a minute, I thought it was okay to open my eyes. I watched as the room turned into woods. Now here I was, an eleven year old child, standing outside in the middle of the night. In the back of my mind, I thought that I should get back to my sisters, but my morbid childhood curiosity got the best of me. I saw the little girl at the edge of the woods; she beckoned for me.
Looking to my left and right, I followed her. She led me to a tiny clearing that was only big enough for maybe four or five people. She told me to stay at the edge so that they couldn’t see me. I didn’t know who “they” were, but a deep, sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach told me to listen to her. A few seconds passed and the girl stood in the middle of the clearing. I wondered what she was doing and who “they” were -- until I saw four shadows appear at the other side of the clearing.
The four men saw her and rushed up to her. She screamed and tried to run, but two of them grabbed her and held her down. Another one tore off her clothes, and the last one hurt her. I don’t want to go into details but it was forced and she never wanted that to happen. The guy repeated it over and over again and then the other guys took turns. I wished desperately to look away but something wasn’t letting me. I was terrified. I thought that they would find me and I would have the same fate.
They didn’t find me, though, but they did finish up with her. After the last one zipped up his pants, the first man took out what looked like a knife. The girl could barely move, let alone scream, and she just stared in horror as the man plunged the knife into her. He stabbed her over and over again until she lay on the forest floor, bloody and mutilated.
Everything the girl felt, I felt and then some, racked with guilt that I couldn't save her. I had felt what it’s like to be raped and stabbed repeatedly. I felt tears run down my face, but I made no noise for fear of the men coming after me. I stood there by the tree and covered my eyes, refusing to look up for a good twenty minutes.
When I finally did, I was back in the room again. I was still crying as the little girl came up to me. She wasn’t bloody or mutilated anymore, but I could see the scars. She put her hand on my shoulder and lifted my head with her hand.
“Now you know. Now there is a witness and now I don’t have to suffer alone.”
And she was gone. The door then swung open. At first, I was afraid to go through, because I thought the men were going to come after me. After about five minutes, I ran through the door as fast as I could and I turned the corner of the corridor. I ran headfirst into my oldest sister, Angelica, and I screamed at the top of my lungs. She looked at me as if I had gone crazy.
“Kelli, what’s wrong?” she asked me.
“Angelica, we have to go. Right now!” I screamed, and then I ran down the stairs and out the door. I have never seen that girl again, and I’ve never gone back to that museum.
I still feel everything she felt, even now, though not as much as those first few years. Angelica has tried to get me to talk but I couldn’t tell her anything. I have just recently been able to talk about it. I did a little research on the place and I found that back in the late months of 1900, a nine-year-old girl had gone missing. It was years before they found her body. The autopsy revealed that she had been raped multiple times and then stabbed to death.
I’m now 25, and I still cannot go back to that place. I don’t know why she chose me to be her only witness; sometimes I wish to God that I wasn’t. But since I am the only one who has seen her tragedy, I try my hardest to remember her, and I want people to know that things like this really do happen. There really are ghosts. Most of them just want to be heard and want someone, anyone, to listen.
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