Then It Got Worse
When I was younger, I used to take naps in the upstairs area of our house, but by the time I was eight years old, I REFUSED to go upstairs. The upstairs had two large closets/attics that ran from one side of the upstairs all the way to the other side on both sides.
It was essentially a crawl space that was about thirty feet long, and I hated it. One day, a friend and I crawled from one side to the other with flashlights. I witnessed a horrific sight. I saw a girl sitting in the corner, acting like she wanted to play with us. I was beyond terrified.
This girl looked normal, had blonde hair, a nice dress, and seemed friendly. I stayed silent, kept crawling behind my friend, and got out of there. I told him what I saw in there, and he said he didn’t see it but felt like he didn’t want to go back in. My parents would occasionally send me upstairs to get something.
When I would get up there, I would see the doors swing open, as if they were beckoning me to come inside. I would lose toys and wouldn’t be able to find them anywhere.
Suddenly, my parents would be fishing out Christmas presents from the attic, and we would find some of my toys in there. One day, my parents were still asleep in the morning, and I came up with a plan. I leashed up my dog to go take on the monster in the attic.
My dog—usually up for anything—REFUSED to go off the top step into the space. My parents never believed me. They would also blame me for things that happened all over the house—leaving lights on, toys all over, things I knew I didn’t do. When I was ten, we moved out.
Not even a week passed by before the new owners called us up and asked if the house was haunted. Their daughter slept upstairs, in that creepy room. She said that she had been playing with a blonde-haired girl at night. Then it got ten times worse.
The girl started appearing in other parts of the house for them. They would look over while watching TV and see the girl sitting on their daughter’s lap. They looked up the past house owners and found out that an old dressmaker had lived there.
Sure enough, there was a picture of the little girl, that same little girl, wearing one of the lady’s dresses. The family that moved in there was absolutely torn apart by the events; it seemed to hit them a lot worse than us because they engaged with her.
They got divorced, and the dad stayed living in the house. He ended up taking his own life in that house. Story credit: Reddit / Economy_Cactus