"Three or four years ago I used to be in my old school's netball team. One day, we were waiting for the teacher to come so we could start training. I was in the middle of the pitch and suddenly, the lights went out. Blindly, I tried to find my way back to the other girls, but I tripped over something cold and hard. Out of nowhere, a cold, small hand touched my bare leg, squeezing and rubbing it up and down, as if it, like me, was trying to find a guide in the dark. Out of fear I asked 'Who is it?' and a feminine, child-like voice answered 'It's me!' and giggled playfully. Shortly after, the lights came back; I was in one corner of the pitch, while the other (three) girls were huddled close together in the opposite corner, and there was no trace of whatever thing had been next to me."
— Carme Querol Martinez
