I was 16 at the time, growing up in West Essex, and hanging out with my twin sister Lauren. We were on the trampoline, and just as we sat down my sister told me to look at the swings. They had begun to move.
I tried to focus on the swings, and could make out this little girl around the age of 5 or 6. We went inside to talk to Grandma who was looking after us while our parents were out. We asked her if our home had a haunted past, and knowing we weren’t the bravest girls, she flat out refused to tell us. So Lauren and I took matters into our own hands.
We went upstairs and typed in ‘Past of Bronchial Boulevard’ in the laptop. Almost instantly we came across a news article about a 6 year old girl named Hillary Galsworthy. It said she was last seen in December, 1652 in a small village of West Essex. Even more creepy, the article pinpointed her last known sighting on our very street. Unsettled by what we read, we shut the laptop and went to sleep.
It was now 11 p.m. and I was awakened by the laughing of a little girl. I looked over to my door to see it opening, and that’s when I saw her standing at the foot of Lauren’s bed. As she looked at me, my heart stopped and I could barely find my breath. I gasped, trying to eek out any kind of scream, but my vocal chords were frozen in terror.
“What do you want?” I asked the little girl. “NO!” the the little girl replied sharply. “It’s okay Hillary,” I replied back, trying to console her. “I know what happened!” I explained.
The little girl approached me as I sat in my sweat-drenched bed. “No you don’t, leave me alone!” the little girl shot back in a fierce tone.
And then she faded away, just as quickly as she had arrived. I ran to my sister, trembling. My Grandma came in and shouted for me and Lauren to go outside. Grandma rang my parents on the phone, suggesting they come home after what happened. My parents got home, and we all just decided to get some sleep and talk things over in the morning.
Lauren and I were fast asleep, but it wasn’t long before I woke to a chuckle of laughter in the darkness. In a moment of panic, I tiptoed to my parents’ room and slowly opened the door. And that’s when I saw her. It was Hillary, and this time she had a knife.
I knew I had to wake my parents before it was too late. But Hillary slammed the door in my face knocking me out. As I laid in the hallway unconscious, my sister woke to screams of terror emanating from my parents’ room. She leaped out of bed and barged into their room to find my mother laying there bleeding with her face, wrists and belly slit just like Hillary. And I’m not even going to describe the horrendous things she did to Dad, as doing so would make me ill.
Hillary just stood there, laughing, as Lauren cried her eyes out, shouting for Grandma. Grandma rushed in to find bloodshed, but no Hillary, who had vanished yet again. The coroner arrived to take my parents corpses.
After performing their investigation, the police drew the conclusion that it must have been my grandma that brutally killed my mother and father that horrendous night. The jury bought it hook, line, and sinker, sending my innocent Grandma to federal prison in a sentence that will last her the rest of her years.
Distraught, parentless, and missing our poor grandmother, our aunt and uncle flew in to stay with us for a couple weeks until a permanent living situation could be arranged. But if Lauren and I had our way, we wouldn’t stay in this house one more night.
It doesn’t matter that the courts didn’t believe us. In our hearts, Lauren and I know what Hillary did, and what she’s still capable of.