OK, so this might sound a bit weird, but ever since I was little I've been close to the dead.
Instead of making real friends, I would talk and play games with thin air. To list all the weird stuff that's happened to me would take too long, but this is one of the most resent.
About a year ago, I was staying with my grams house (which is normal for me because I stay with her once a week) and I was watching TV with her when I just burst into tears. I don't know why, but I just couldn't stop. Finally she calmed me down I went to bed. Then the freaky stuff started.
First I could hear footsteps in the hall and in the attic, which I know for a fact used to be a nursery to three young children. The house was her grandmothers, so its pretty old, and with age comes history. Then I heard a small child's voice that asked me to give them a hug. I freaked out and got my mum to come and get me.
The next week I went back and it was worse. I saw two children, a pretty little girl with dark brown hair. With her was a smaller boy who looked similar but with blond hair. They didn't scare me this time and I just smiled at them.
I've seen the girl, who's name I learned was Amalie and that she died of the measles, twice since then, but now I just wave at her. The boys name was Dante and I've seen him once, but he's more shy than his sister.
I still call to them when I get sad, but mainly I just hear them talking and playing. Being dead hasn't got them down!