It was in a dark, gloomy room where this stranger told this story.

So you know there was this guy who told this story and this is it. Once on a night like this Halloween night there was a kid and this kid was so spooky. His costume was a banana. But this was no ordinary banana. It was big, skinny, and brown (I know isn’t this scary because I’m freaking out right now). The thing that was horrible was what this kid had to go through. So he was trick-or-treating and he was walking and walking and some more walking when he hit a tree. What sucks is he got NO CANDY! Yeah this is spooky, let me try something else.

I lived in a house from hell for four years, from age eleven to almost sixteen. There was constantly something happening. Doors flying open and shut, voices, footsteps. Nothing ever stayed where you put it. I was alone there a lot because both my parents worked and I was constantly terrified.

One of the most gut-level disturbing things though was the little girl in my bathroom. Every time I walked past my bathroom door (which was constantly since it was right outside my bedroom) I saw a little girl with blond curled hair and a rose-colored dress. She just stood there, staring, looking like a photograph from 1905. I started keeping the door closed so I could walk by without seeing her, but she was always there when I opened it. Once I stepped in past her, I couldn’t see her anymore but I could feel her there. She scared me, but I felt really sorry for her because she was trapped there, just like me, but probably forever.

As the years went by and things in the house continued to get worse, she started seeming… darker. I started feeling like she wasn’t really a little girl. I knew there was something ugly in the house and I felt like it was presenting this sympathetic image to me. Then I started thinking I was completely losing my mind. When I finally moved from this house, I was so very happy. On the other hand, she was still at this house so yeah.