Kids Say The Darndest Things

I'm a firm believer that children and animals can see or sense more than your average adult. Dogs growling at nothing, cats staring at something in empty space, etc. One of my memorable creepy moments was with a child.

My sister's house had something in it, there was no doubt about that. Often, figures would pass by the kitchen door in the corridor and my sister, thinking it was me (I was always hanging out there,) would find me in the living room and not on the other side of the house where she had JUST seen 'me' heading. This happened so often that we didn't pay much attention to it anymore.

The hot spots in her house were definitely her bedroom and the bathroom, where firmly placed objects would fly or 'fall' off shelves for no reason, right in front of her eyes. Since her husband worked nights, she would lock herself in the bedroom with her little boy and, despite the sweltering summer heat, woke up more than once, to a freezing room, so cold that she could see her breath (and, of course, accompanied by that all too familiar feeling of dread).

*Note for the story ahead: In Afrikaans, 'gagga' means bad or yucky or gross. It's typically used by children.

This specific event happened one evening when friends of theirs were visiting. They had two little girls. I was spending some time with the children, sitting by the kitchen door (the back door) looking out onto the back yard, from where we could see the bathroom window on the right. There was a small tree beside it, maybe three or four meters away from where we sat. It was full moon that evening. I remember, because that's why we were sitting there on the doorstep - we were looking at the moon.

Then, out of nowhere, the youngest little girl points to the tree outside the bathroom and says, "Who's that gagga witch standing there?" Of course, I am immediately creeped out, but I remain calm. I ask her, "What gagga witch?" She's still pointing and looking. Then she makes a crooked thumb. "The one standing there by the tree with her finger like this." As if in slow motion, I look towards the tree, hoping that I wouldn't see anything. I don't. However, with my hairs standing on end now, but not wanting to make a scene, I quickly usher the children back into the house and lock the door, joining the others in the living room, happy for the distraction of music and conversation.

My sister and her family later moved out of that house and I don't think anything followed her, because the next house was fine. Unfortunately, the same can't be said of their current house, but that's another post.