The Visitor

"Momma, help me," she pleaded.

Chills ran down her spine. The blanket clutched to her in a death grip. Her mind unwilling to accept the image of a young, black hair girl who stood at the foot of her bed. Her arms out stretched.

"You're not real! You're not real!"

Yet the image remained.

"Momma, help me. It hurts Momma, make it go away."

The edge of the hem on her blue dress no longer touched the floor. The young girl floated several feet about the floor.

"M...mom...momma."

Debbie stared in silent horror. Her heart raced, thudding hard against her rib cage. It was hard to breathe. She tried to scream but the words froze in her throat.

Her arms flailed as if trying to get away from whatever was trying to get aay from whatever was trying to attack her. Her brown eyes beseech the woman lying on the bed. She cringed as a loud crack reverberated through the bedroom. The young girl swung from a rope in the rafters. Her head lolled to one side. Her arms dangled by her sides. Her toes pointed towards the floor.

She was dead.

"No!" She screamed sitting up in bed. Her heart pounding in her chest. Her breath coming in short gasps.

The image slowly faded.

Confused, bewildered, frightened Debbie sat there clutching the covers. Frantically, she scanned the room looking for any tattle tell signs of her nightly visitor.

Nothing. She was alone.

Debbie's mind raced. Was it just a said anything about the house being haunted.