Ghost Stories

Mary and I were having a sleepover that day, in the room right next to the playroom. We'd heard a noise earlier, but we ignored it. Unwisely, of course.

When we went to sleep, we turned off the TV and closed all the windows. Just as we were about to drift off to sleep, I heard a voice saying, "Cazalay! Mary! It hurts!"

It was disturbing, but I thought it was just my imagination. I pulled the covers over my head and curled up in a tight ball.

Then I heard something else: "Cazalay! Mary! Help me! It won't stop bleeding!

I still thought it was my imagination and was about to ignore it and try to sleep; but then Mary said, "Cazalay...stop...I know it's you!"

I sat up to protest that it wasn't me, and just then, the door to the playroom flung open. In the darkness outside in the hallway, we saw a young girl in a torn blood-stained white dress standing in the middle of the playroom. Blood was oozing from her chest and neck.

Once more, she cried out, "Cazalay, Mary! Help me! It hurts!"

From my throat ripped a blood-curdling scream, echoed by one from Mary's lips. The ghost girl reached out to us, her hands coming so close we could feel waves of cold washing over us -- but then she vanished.

I quickly convinced my parents to sell the house, and we moved a few cities away.

Then, a few weeks after moving, we got emails from the new owners. They were concerned about the little girl in the blood-stained white dress.

I deleted them before my parents could see them.