The Guest Room

There once was a girl in the room.  A little girl with pigtails that cried.  It was a guest bedroom no one used.  One night grandma stayed over and slept in the guest bedroom.  During the night while everyone is asleep my grandmother heard a girl crying.  Grandma opened her eyes and saw a little girl sitting on the bed next to her crying.  She had her head down with her hands covering her face while she cried.  Grandma asked “Why are you crying?”  The little girl never picked up her head nor did she stop her crying.  Once again grandma asked, “Why are you crying?”  Why grandma kept engaging conversing to the little girl is beyond me.  The little girl got up from the bed and walked into the closet still crying.  Grandma saw her rise up and disappear.  Grandma never saw her again.  A few years later I moved into that room.  My sister took the room I was originally in.  She had the habit of staying up late, messing around in her closet straightening her clothes.  She would push the hangers back and fourth until her clothes were organized.  One night around 2am I heard noises in my closet.  Noises coming from her closet as if she was messing around in her closet moving the hangers back and fourth.  I got out of bed and went to her room ready to tell her to stop.  I opened her door and she was sound asleep.

Yea, that was my clue to go back to bed and hide under the covers. 


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