As young children, I and younger sister Annie used to share a bedroom. We lived in a detached house in the outskirts of Stubbington and our parents had just left to go to a party. I, being 11, and Annie, being 8, were sitting on our beds playing 'I Spy.' Our babysitter shouted upstairs that it was time for us to go to bed. So we climbed into bed (both of us had a bed which was high up with a desk underneath) when Annie wanted to carry on playing I spy.
Annie, being a young persistent girl, was insolent and spied something with the letter D. Instantly; the first word that came to my head was 'dolly.' I was just about to say it when the dolly fell off the desk from underneath my bed. I shouted. What moved the dolly? It was probably the wind I thought. But the window was not open! Oh well, it wouldn't have fallen off by itself.
'Dolly,' I said, in response to my sister. Annie screamed from under her covers.
'Something's touching my foot!' Annie cried.
She looked under the covers and saw something wrapped around her left foot. Annie grabbed it and threw it on the floor. The rag doll lay still and lifeless. We shut the doll in the drawer. Charlotte, the baby sitter, wondered what all the shouting was about.
'The doll just moved!' We both shrieked. But Charlotte would have none of it. She was a tough baby sitter and went back downstairs to her TV programme.
In the morning we awoke early. We checked the drawer but the rag doll was missing. That day we searched the house high and low, but it couldn't be spotted anywhere. We gave up trying to explain to people what had happened; no one would believe us anyway.
Next week we went outside to play with our neighbor and friend, Laura Lee. She said that she found a rag doll in her room, which she had never seen before. We checked it out, and it was our rag doll!
Was this down to paranormal activity?
Or was this just a simple misunderstanding?
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