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The following story is true and revolves around my daughter when she was three years old. Circumstances forced us to move into a small older home in Sarasota, Florida and from the moment we moved in, Jillian began to have what I assumed to be nightmares. She would come into my bedroom in the small hours of the morning, crying, saying she had seen a monster. I would talk to her calmly and then gently send her back to bed. Over the next few weeks the situation progressed to the point where she would refuse to go back to her own room, and began sleeping with us. If you've ever slept with a three-year-old, you know that the three-year-old is the only one that gets any sleep.

Finally one day, in the safety of the living room in broad daylight, I asked her to tell me what was bothering her in her room at night. She told me immediately that a monster woman would come into her room at night and that she had no face, and that she would close the door and stand in front of it so that Jillian couldn't get out. She said the lady had long white hair, and had on a red shirt, or had blood on her. I couldn't imagine where she would get such an idea, and to prove to her that there was nothing to be afraid of I agreed to sleep with her in her bed that night. I came to her room that night after she'd already been asleep for two hours, and what happened next convinced me that something was truly wrong. Jillian sat up in bed, out of a dead sleep, and clutching the covers against her she said 'you scared me mommy, I thought you were the monster lady!' I hadn't made a sound, but she woke instantly. She knew that someone else was in the room even though she was sound asleep. I climbed into bed with her and after we talked for a few minutes we both fell asleep.
 
Sometime around eleven thirty, I heard what sounded like a gunshot. It was so loud it seemed to be right in the room with us. I assumed I had been dreaming, as Jillian hadn't stirred, so I fell back asleep. Not too long after, around midnight, I woke to the sound of someone pounding frantically on the front door. I raced through the house to my room, which looked out onto the front porch. The light was kept on, and was on then, so I could see that there was no one there. I even woke my husband to see if he'd heard anything. He informed me rather grumpily that he hadn't heard anything. Confused I went back to bed and slept through the night without further incident. My landlady came over the next day to visit, and I told her briefly what had been going on, outlining my experiences from the night before. Being a normally composed lady, it startled me to see her start to fidget and glance nervously around. I asked her what was wrong. She said that if I were anybody else, she wouldn't tell me this, but after what I'd told her she had to tell me what had happened in the house.
 
OK.... I was a little alarmed. She said that the woman that lived there before us was an alcoholic and had told her numerous stories about strange incidents, but she had dismissed her tales as the result of an altered mind from the alcohol. Apparently about ten years before a young woman rented the house. She was supposed to move in and then her boyfriend was going to move in with her. The very day she moved in, her boyfriend called to say that he'd met someone else and that he changed his mind about moving in. She called him back several times, and even threatened to commit suicide if he left her. Finally around ten, that evening, the calls stopped. The boyfriend became worried and tried to call her. After an hour with no success, he called the police. When the police arrived they roused my landlady in order to get a key to get in. At exactly midnight, they pounded on the front door to the house (exactly the time I heard someone pounding on our front door). When they got no reaction they let themselves in. The young woman had barricaded herself in the room that Jillian now slept in and had shot herself in the head. The coroner estimated the time of death to be around eleven thirty (the exact time I thought I'd heard a shot). There was a dark stain on the hardwood floor of the room that I'd always assumed to be a water stain from a past roof leak, but the landlady informed me that it was blood, and that they had never been able to get it all out. She said the girl had shot herself in the head, and it had destroyed her face and that it was a shame because she was a beautiful girl with long blonde hair. Is it possible that this young girl had been visiting my child in the dark hours of the night? I needed no more convincing. We moved out shortly after.

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