I'm going to start this off by stating this happened when I was a child, and I'm not sure whether this was just all in my imagination or it actually happened.
My name is Christian, I'm 23 years old and I live in Sussex, England. I've lived here for most of my life, the reason being I lived in London until I was 12, then Brighton since I was 14. Wondering why I didn't stay in Brighton long? There's a reason, a damn good reason.
We arrived in Brighton at the new house, In which was totally different to the compact apartment in London; the house was old and at a cheap price. Probably the reason why my parents bought it. The house included 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom, living room and a dining room. Which is pretty basic. I was glad I moved; considering I had no friends in London, I had the opportunity to make a fresh start.
My parents lead me to my room once we arrived and asked me to start unpacking my stuff. I'm going to tell you, that I didn't believe in ghosts as a kid, but the room felt eerie as shit.
Within days, my room had its furniture: bed, desk and a box which held a few of my old toys and books. It made my room feel cosy. But the room's atmosphere just didn't feel right. I tried to avoid my room whenever I could. Obviously I had to go to sleep at night, so I didn't want to tell my parents I hated my room, we'd only just moved in and it was probably just a feeling I got from being in a new environment.
It was around 9 o'clock when I went to bed. The room became extremely cold by night so I shut my window and door to conserve some heat. I lead in bed facing my door which was opposite my bed. I couldn't get to sleep, and I tossed and turned for hours. I finally drifted off into a deep sleep.
It felt like I'd been asleep for hours before I woke up. I looked at the clock on my desk to see the time. 11:57. I thought a cold breeze had just got in, so I didn't think anything of it. I lay back down and tried to get back to sleep. It was useless. I stared at the clock and watched the hands pass by. It was midnight. I had to get up in eight hours and I had hardly had any sleep. I heard movement coming from the hallway, outside my door.
The bathroom was to the left of my bedroom so I thought it was my mum or dad going to the toilet. I lay still for ages, listening to the movement outside the door. Whoever was out there wouldn't stop moving. I started to feel wide awake and I could realise that the moving didn't sound like footsteps, but scuttling or shuffling like an animal.
I was freaked out. I didn't want to get up and get my parents. I lay there motionless listening to whatever it was outside. I tried to convince myself that it was my mind playing tricks on me since I was tired from moving and not having any sleep.
I remember waking up around about nine in the morning since I overslept. I got out of bed and headed out to hallway and I froze in shock. There were claw marks on the door and the carpet outside my door. It took me a second to become calm and head downstairs. My mum was in the kitchen and greeted me with some breakfast.
"Did you have a good sleep?" she asked as I sat down at the dining table. I nodded in return and ate my cereal as fast as I could.
The day passed and night soon returned. I had been dreading it the whole day, not wanting the same thing to happen. I shut my door and window and got into bed, I tried to get to sleep as fast as possible but nothing worked, I was too worried. It soon hit midnight. The shuffling returned. I froze; it couldn't be possible. I wanted to shout for my parents but I didn't want to let anything know I was in here. The shuffling and scratching continued until the break of dawn, then like magic it stopped. I didn't get any sleep, if you were wondering.
This continued for months, all the way past my birthday.
I wasn't ready for the same routine. I was feeling brave. I wanted to see what the fuck was behind my door, I guess curiosity got the better of me.
Instead of shutting my door, I left it open. I knew there was no turning back once it hit twelve o'clock. I had a few hard back books at arms-reach for weaponry.
It happened. It hit twelve. I could feel beads of sweat trickle down my face. Something was moving in the hallway; I could hear the same shuffling I had heard for months. My eyes started to adjust to the silhouette pacing back and forth in the dark. I was scared out of my mind. I lay still hoping whatever it was wouldn't come closer. I was wrong. Ever so slowly, it got closer and closer to my door. It looked like a small dog. Millions of questions were running through my mind, why would a dog be in my house?
It eventually entered my room. I could see it clearly. It was a girl, she looked about 3, her hair was short and blonde but looked dirty and oily. Her skin was very pale and her eyes had no pupils. They looked like 2 white holes on her face. The scariest part was her mouth in a constant smile, like somebody had carved it onto her face. I didn't see her teeth. But I guessed they looked like daggers. She wasn't standing up, but had crouched down.
I noticed her nails: they were sharp and pointed but had a yellow tint and had chips and cracks in them. She was at the foot of my bed, and I couldn't take it. I let out a scream and the girl looked at me; she started approaching me quicker than ever. Suddenly, the hall lights came on and my mother came rushing in. She cradled me and asked what was wrong. I said it was a nightmare. I looked around, the girl wasn't anywhere to be seen.
In the morning, my mother and father decided we needed to move; I wasn't getting any sleep. The cheapest house my parents could find was in Sussex. Within a few weeks, we had packed our stuff and were ready to head off. I looked at the house as the car was ready to go, and there she was, standing at the front door, watching me. It's been nearly 10 years now and I have to say I've heard over a 100 reports of families seeing a little girl in their house and being killed weeks later. I'm glad we moved in time.