My Ghost Friend Ghost Story

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Are imaginary friends real or created? Meagan Turner knows the answer...our
Ghost Story of the Month for June 2005!

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, bu t 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.

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