This just happens to be one of my many ghostly experiences with the supernatural involving, what I have called since I was four, the girl in the pink pajamas.
Just a little background on me. My very first experience happened to be when I was three-years-old. I had just finished my lunch and was having nap time. I remember lying in my bed, when I heard a noise from the closet. I wasn't scared of anything, not at all, until I opened that closet. A man, very tall, very young, zoomed out of my closet. He went right through me, and sent a blast of cold air through my body. I didn't know what to do. I screamed but then something pushed me into the closet, and it shut behind me. Now I was really scared. I screamed and cried and pushed and banged. My mom comes busting into the room and asked me why I'm out of bed. I was too scared to speak. Ever since then I can't remember when I didn't have an experience with the paranormal.
Now on to the topic. When I was four, my parents decided not to divorce, but to split for a while because they were having problems and didn't want me around it. They gave me the choice on who to go with and I chose my mother, being closer to her as I was. We moved from Georgia to California, while my father moved to North Carolina.
When we moved into our new house, nothing happened. My mom said I was the happiest four-year-old ever, until about a month after the move. She said I began to be scared to go into any room except the bathroom, where I claimed I had an imaginary friend named the girl in the pink jammies. My mom says I called her Zoe.
I remember when I was five-years-old, I was laying with my mother in bed, and the master bathroom door cracked open. I opened my eyes, and the light clicked on. I thought it was my mother but when I rolled over she was still in bed with me. I called out, "Zoe?" and the light flickered, an indication as for me to walk in. I remember sitting on the floor and watching as Zoe looked worried. Zoe told me she was seven-years-old, and her daddy used to be mean to her. He used to hit her and touch her. I remember asking, "Why did he touch you?" or something similar to that, and she either said, "'Cause my mommy isn't here," or "Because my mommy told him to." I don't exactly remember much, except that she started crying and said her daddy went away but when we moved in he was coming back. Then my mom came in and told me to go back to bed.
A few weeks later, I started sleeping in my own room, no longer being scared. I don't even know why I was scared of every room, but I know I stopped. Continuing on, I was sleeping in my room and I felt the covers lift up. I called, "Mommy," and got no answer. I rolled over and happily said, "Zoe!" But Zoe wasn't there. Then I felt a coldness on my belly, and I heard a very faint yell, "Daddy, stop it!" And when I rolled over, the familiar, gray eyed, blonde haired, pink pajamas with dark pink stripes girl was standing beside my bed. I don't remember anything else except for Zoe putting her hand over my eyes, even though I could see through it, and going to sleep.
I only remember a few more encounters involving Zoe, before she finally stopped talking to me and just started making herself known. I remember when I was eight I was furious for the first time that she stopped talking to me, and I dared her to show herself. She didn't show herself, but she made herself known pretty damn well. I was sitting on my bed yelling, "Zoe, why did you stop talking to me?! I want you to show yourself! I want a darn explanation as to why we aren't friends anymore! I want to know what really happened" when all of a sudden, things started flying around the room. My book flew off the dresser, my clothes started pouring out of my closet. I screamed my lungs out and yelled, "STOP IT, ZOE, STOP IT!" She threw my favorite stuffed animal out the door and down the stairs, across the hallway and then everything went silent. It went silent for a long time. Then I heard, "Come and get me, if you can, Granny."
To this day, I still have no idea why she called me "Granny" unless she was referring that I was older than her and she was jealous. And again, to this day, I haven't seen her since I was nine, and my mother and I moved neighborhoods with my stepdad after her and my real dad finally divorced.
If you have any questions or comments, do so below, or feel free to email me which is on my profile! Thanks so much for reading, and another story should be up soon!