Ghost Girl

(UPDATE: As promised, the photos of my Barbie)

I played with my older brother a lot when I was younger. I even played with my cousins, who were around my same age – mostly boys. So it was no surprise that I was a tomboy. As I got older, I got more into dolls and girly things. My mother got me a life -sized Bridal Barbie. I was able to fit in her clothes, and is probably worth some money now and days. If only I didn’t lose her slippers and cut her hair into a bob. I even lost her fluff pads that go on the shoulders. She only sits in a closet with her worn out wedding dress. I guess she is waiting for Ken to come sweep her off her feet. That or, she misses the ghost girl…

My family is full of sensitive people. Most of my family sees it as a gift and they have alters where they do offerings and things like that, but not me. I see it as a curse. I try and block everything now that I am older. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it’s fun. Other times it’s not. If you don’t know what you are doing, don’t do it. You’ll regret every second.

Last blog I posted, I spoke about my friend and our encounters in her home. It was all fun and games because I was with a friend! But what about when you’re alone?

My old home, before I moved from my nest, was somewhere in New Jersey (sorry I can’t say where). I had a small room, but it was perfect for me. I lived there since I was 8 years of age. I moved at age 26 (Yikes!). Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just can’t believe I dealt with that for so long. Moving on! My room was cute and always a little messy. I’ve always suffered from night terrors and still do ’til this day. I’d hear scratching, knocking, footsteps, and even voices. I tried my best to play it off as my dreams. Then it happened…

Let’s go back to that Barbie, shall we? She was always on display in my room. She had her own corner and when people came over, it was requested that she would be turned away from them. They didn’t like her staring at them. They felt like she was watching. I didn’t mind. It was just an oversized doll. Maybe they had horrors of being married, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. She was mine and I liked her. What I didn’t know, was that she liked her too.

I had a ball in my room that would roll around on its own and I thought it was because of – my young logic – I was living in an apartment on the third floor and maybe the movement of the wind gently pressing the building made it move. I had an excuse for everything and so did my mother and grandmother. So it shouldn’t have surprised my when I heard someone singing in my closet while I was bouncing around the ball. That’s right! I heard a voice. I got closer but dare not answer the voice by opening the door. Instead, I put my good pal Barbie in front of it. Yup, I said “here Barbie, you can stand here from now on.”

While I never heard the singing again, I did see Barbie switch up her stance a few times. I’d leave for school and she is looking straight, but when I return she is looking towards my bedroom door, like she was waiting to see me. I’d push her head back to normal and go on about my day. Of course I told my mom…eventually. She went and asked my brother if he was touching it and of course the answer was no. My mom ended up getting me a lock for my door to test it out and to keep anyone from going in there without my permission. Since I was still young, she also had a copy of the key. The only people in or out were mother and me. I felt okay because it stopped for a while.

So now, 12 year old me is looking in the mirror that hung on the closet door doing my hair, while Barbie stood behind me and out of the way. I was able to see her because of the mirror and my porifiral vision. I was paying no mind to her when I heard something fall from inside my closet. It made the mirror shake and I thought I saw Barbie’s hair move as well, but again the mirror shook so I couldn’t be sure. When opening my closet, nothing was wrong so I sighed in annoyance and closed it. “Must be downstairs. They probably dropped something heavy.” When I looked back in the mirror to continue doing my hair, Barbie had her hand up. I quickly turned around and stared at her.

Now, why didn’t I just leave the room? Well, I began to question myself. Maybe I did leave her hand up like that. I just didn’t notice because it’s morning and I’m still tired. So, turning back around I see her arm in the mirror – yup! Her arm was placed down now. I then turn again, and it’s still down. “What in the world? Are you alive?” Not expecting a reply I here,

“I don’t think so. Not anymore.”

I bolted. Dropped my hair straightened and ran for my mother. I screamed about how Barbie was moving around and that she is creepy while my brother laughed at me and called me crazy. We then placed Barbie in that other closet I mentioned before. Where she sits, waiting for her Ken…

I will update this blog with her photo when I go visit my mother this weekend. Maybe she will appear next to Barbie, if we’re so lucky. Her and the man used to bother me…but he’s for another blog on another day.

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