My Ghost Friend Ghost Story

by Meagan Turner

Are imaginary friends real or created?

When I was three, my mom and dad moved from Columbus, Mississippi to Little Rock, Arkansas, because my dad was in the Army and he had been moved to a different base. My mom was pregnant with my sister and didn't want to live on base, so she could have a place to call "her own". It was a nice two story house that my grandparents had helped them get, with four bedrooms and two bathrooms.

Before we had moved here, I had an angel. His name was Peter and he would tell me different things. I never knew that my great-grandmother had a son, but he told me about how he had drowned when he was just twelve, and he wanted me to tell my "Gran-Gran" that he wanted her to know he was alright - and not to worry about him anymore. I told her, and it made her cry. After that, he told me about my aunt's stillborn son she had in the early seventies. He wanted me to tell her that it wasn't her fault and he didn't blame her at all. When my mom was pregnant for the second time, she didn't tell me or my dad, but my angel Peter did. He told me that my mom was with child and she was going to have a little girl.

When we moved to Little Rock, Peter told me he couldn't stay there, that there was something bad in the house; but not to worry, because he would still be watching over me and I would never be harmed. When we finally moved in, we had a spare bedroom at the back of the first story. No one wanted that room, because it stayed cold all the time. When you opened the door, it would shut again, even if you put something in front of it; and if you locked the windows, they would be open the next day. I went in there one day looking for my cat, Sassy, and a little girl started talking to me. I was only four so I really didn't think much of it, I guess. I started going in there every day to play with this little girl who said her name was, "Clara."

Once, she told me she didn't like my little sister because she kept her up all night and I needed to get rid of her. I didn't want to make her mad, so I tried to, by putting her in the trash can in the kitchen. When my mom asked me why, I said "Clara doesn't like her and wants her gone, now."

The more I talked to Clara the more possessive she became. She didn't want me to leave the room at all, so I had my mom and dad move the stuff from my original room into that room. When I did that, I had toys and books disappear. So I told her I was going back to my old room. I don't remember a whole lot of her after that, except waking up on the floor. I went into the living room and mom asked me where I had gotten the bruise on my arm. It looked like a hand had grabbed me, so I told her Clara did it. She didn't believe me and refused to move my stuff back to my old room.

I slept in the room with my mom and dad for a long time, until they wanted me to go back into my old room. When I went in there, it was extremely cold. I remember seeing my breath and it was the middle of spring. I could see Clara's shadow whenever I laid down; I could tell she was pacing the floor. I had gotten to know her moods and knew that when the room was cold, she was mad, so I didn't say anything. When I woke up the next morning, all the windows were open and my door was locked from the outside. I could hear her giggling, so I started crying and beating on my door. When my mom and dad opened it, they felt how cold it was and decided to move me back up to my old room.

After that, they put a chain lock on the outside of the door and I wasn't allowed to go back in there. My dad found all of my missing toys in the attic in a box marked "Clara's things," that had an old rag doll in it and wooden blocks.

Two years later, we moved again, but I never saw or heard from my angel Peter, but I guess he still watches over me, because I haven't ever been seriously hurt. Once, when someone got on my side of the road, and hit my car going 60 mph, I wasn't hurt at all. I walked away with a tiny scratch on my nose.

This has made me believe in angels and ghosts.