I’ve always been very sensitive to some things that others couldn’t feel. I live with a very skeptical family and I have very skeptical friends, so I haven’t had the occasion to talk about this much (I actually only told this story to my best friend). My friends always used to make fun of me when we went down to the park near their house, which was built on an old Burgundian cemetery (the Burgundians were a Germanic tribe that came to my city around the time the Roman empire fell). I felt things there that I couldn’t explain, and sometimes I refused to go because I just couldn’t stand being there. My friends never understood why so they left me out quite often.
I must’ve been about ten or eleven years old when I had my first real ghost experience. I got up one morning and I was still lying in bed with my eyes half closed when I heard a girl’s voice say: “Hello, Frances!” to me. I thought it was my little sister, so I groaned and turned around to tell her to go away. Nobody was there.
When I went downstairs, I told my sister to stop playing stupid jokes on me (she does that very often). She looked surprised and said: “I didn’t do anything! Why are you always accusing me?!” “Because you DID come into my room! You’re not supposed to come in when I’m asleep, or at least not without knocking first.” “But I didn’t!” I sighed and stopped arguing, because I knew she would never give up and tell me the truth.
Later the same day, I was sitting in my bed reading when the same voice said again: “Hello.” This time I didn’t wait and I looked up immediately. A little girl was standing by the door to my room, smiling. I blinked, wondering who she was because I had never seen her before, but she didn’t disappear. Then I noticed the door, that I had closed when I went into my room (I always close my door because I hate it when it’s open and anyone can just walk past and see me writing or doing whatever… I know that’s weird but I just like being alone and having my own privacy) and now the door was open and the girl was standing right beside it.
I wasn’t scared, because I had always believed in ghosts and apparitions. “Who are you?” I asked. “Ebba.” she answered. She had golden hair, slightly wavy, and bright blue eyes. She was not at all transparent or anything, she looked just like any other person. She was wearing a dark green cardigan and a pale pink woolen dress, with white tights and little black boots. I still remember that.
She sat down by me and I felt the bed move, which proved that she really was there and that I wasn’t dreaming. She started telling me about how she had lost her parents, and that she had been looking for them for a very long time. I asked her how long and she said she didn’t know. “Very, very many.” She spoke with an accent and often used her hands when she couldn’t find her words. In later years she learned to speak better English.
We became very good friends, because she told me she couldn’t find anyone she knew and she felt lonely, so she stayed with me all the time. She went to school with me, and sat on the floor beside me in class. Nobody else could see her. We always wished at least one other person I knew could see her, because when I told my parents I was going out to play with Ebba, or when they saw me in my room playing a game like chess or cards all by myself, they just laughed at me. “You’re a bit too old to have imaginary friends, Frances…” I often asked Ebba to move something while they were there, but she never wanted to. She said it was better only I knew she existed. “They can’t see me. If I move something, they’ll think they’re crazy or something. Or they might not know what I am, they might think I’m a demon or something else bad, and stop me from seeing you.” In the end I just gave up.
Sometimes in the road somebody moved out of Ebba’s way, or let her have a seat in the bus. Obviously they didn’t know she was a ghost. They other people around us looked at them in a strange way, and we always found that very funny, but also a little bit sad because not many people could see Ebba.
The years went on, and we became best friends. Ebba grew older just like me: when we first met she was only five years old, but she grew up and also became more mature, just like a real little girl. I taught her to read and write, and eventually she was too big for some things, like sitting behind me on my bike, for example. When I first met her, she was terribly afraid of water because she had fallen in a lake in winter, and that was how she died. (She never told me when exactly she was born or when she died, but judging from her clothes, I’d say at least a hundred years ago).
After a while she stopped being afraid of cold water, or at least she was less afraid. (The first time we went to the swimming pool together she literally stood on the side crying and asking me to get out! I can still remember wondering what on Earth I was going to do, because I couldn’t just get out and hold her in my arms, when she was invisible to most of the other people around! Now she doesn’t mind going in cold water, she just prefers it when it’s warm).
For five years nothing bad happened, but recently something happened that really bothered me. Ebba was sitting beside me on my bed and she was reading one of my books while I was doing my homework, and since we were studying the Vikings at school and since Ebba was Scandinavian, I asked her a question about them. I can’t remember what she answered, but I know it wasn’t the tone of voice nor the vocabulary she usually used. She spoke quite fast and her voice seemed higher, and I also found her a little bit rude. I frowned and asked her to repeat what she had just said. She said. “What? I didn’t say anything!”
Things like that have been happening quite often ever since then, and for a few weeks I have even been seeing Ebba in two places at once! Sometimes it’s fine and everything is just normal, but sometimes I don’t know which girl is really her! When we’re alone together and the other girl isn’t there, I sometimes talk about it with Ebba. She sees the girl too, but she has no idea what she might be. I think she might be something bad, but I really don’t know!
A few months ago, I would have shared this story with you just to talk about it and just to share it with people who have lived similar experiences. Now I really don’t know what to think. Ebba is a great person and we really are the best friends in the world, and now there’s this other girl that comes and spoils everything! I’m afraid I might go crazy if I can’t chase her away somehow. I hate her just as much as I love Ebba. In fact she’s almost like her shadow, her dark side… Please tell me what you think, I’ll be very grateful if you have any answers to my problem.
I also want to say that I only told this story to my best friend Victor, and he is the only person I know personally who can see Ebba. I told him about the Other Girl, as we call her, but since Victor really isn’t a specialist when it comes to ghosts (he only believes in them because he has seen Ebba), he can’t help me. He has never been there at the same time as the Other Girl.
Sent in by Frances, Copyright 2010 TrueGhostTales.com