I am a nineteen year old, still early in this life, and never once lived in a place that had any sort of long history to it. It never matters where I go, or where I live, this always happens a few times within the year. It is a strange phenomenon where children, of whom I've never met, come to me in my bedroom.
It always starts off the same; I'm usually deep in sleep, as I was this particular time as well. My slumber at this time is always different than normal though, it is like I am unable to dream, so it is just a wispy blackness. I do not mind though, sleep is sleep, and I usually feel very heavy and quite rested. Maybe it's that these experiences are so vivid that they wash away whatever dreams I might have had before. But, during these times, and this time, I wake up, for what appears to be no reason.
I did not feel alone in my bedroom. I generally sleep with all my lights off, my window shut and my bedroom door closed. My covers are usually drawn up to myself so I sleep in my own little bubble. I always feel perfectly alone when I fall asleep. This time, I knew I was not, and I drew my eyes to the corner of my bedroom.
Standing there in the corner of the room is a little girl.
Since there is barely any light, everything is in deep shades of grey or muted blues. But I knew vaguely what she looked like. She seemed young, only about five years old, and did not place into our generation very well. She had long blonde and very curly hair, which was partially pulled back. She wore a black and white dress, very pretty, white stockings, and black dress shoes. She looked like a little girl ready to go to church.
She spoke not a word. She stood there, and looked at me.
I always think that the next time I'd see these things, I'd feel frightened, but I never do. Never do I feel scared. Surprising myself, I speak out loud. "Hello? What's wrong?"
I sat up in my bed and looked at her. "Is something wrong? Can I help you?"
I never know why I say these things, but I say them every time I see someone like her, it is almost like it is the right thing to say. "Don't worry," I'd say, "It's alright. I can help you somehow. Tell me what's wrong."
She still wouldn't speak, just continue to stand there and look my way, and so I got up out of my bed. "Hold on," I'd continue, "I'll help you. Just give me a second to turn on the light." I would walk to my light and flick it on.
When I looked back to the corner where she stood; nobody was there; whenever that would happen, I'd always stand there in some sort of disbelief, and a weird feeling of disappointment would wash over me; then a feeling of great relief. I flicked off the lights again, and looked at the corner to see that she still wasn't there.
And like most of the times that this had happened, I'd speak once more, "If you need my help again... I don't mind if you ask me." Then I'd crawl back into bed, and fall right back to sleep.
The only one who believes me is my mother, who shares the same sort of thing where people will wordlessly walk into her bedroom as well. But her circumstances and the visitations are completely different than mine.
I am often visited by children like the little girl. Boys, girls, and any age ranging between 5 and 11. They always stand there, looking at me. And I always ask them if I can help them somehow. They always leave whenever I turn on the light.
It doesn't matter where I lived, who I've known, and how I sleep. It is inevitable that something like this will happen at some point, and I expect it to happen in the future.
I wonder though, what these visitations mean, and if I really do somehow help them. I also wonder why I speak before I think of saying those words.