Please Don't Be Afraid And Let Me Help You

I sit at the computer, my heart pounding. Someone or something is making its presence felt. I feel relieved to feel the presence of good and know that it is most likely leading to my grandmother known as granny. "There is something behind you!" my frightened friend tells me through our live chat. "I know," I told him smiling.

Chuckling to myself, I hear something in the kitchen. There in the reflection of the dishwasher is a little boy. He looked about six or seven years old. His brown chocolate bangs were parted and they reached at the top of his eyes, barley covering them. The rest falls no lower than the middle of his highly placed ears. I then notice a little red scratch above his right eye. He has tears running down his rosy cheeks. He is sitting down, one leg laying on the ground bending his knee slightly so it is behind his other leg, the knee on that leg is in the air with his hands resting on it. His dirty red and white striped shirt and faded blue jeans makes me more sad than scared. His dark brown eyes were staring at me, not with evil, but more like a cry for help. The poor boy looked scared. I needed and wanted to help him. I got up to see him outside of the reflection but he is not there. Where did he go? I looked back at the dishwasher and he was starting to fade before my very eyes.

Now, I am home alone. I looked at the dishwasher thinking back to about a year ago when I saw the little boy. I still felt like crying because I could not help him. Then my dog Max starts barking at the dishwasher. "Max, what is the matter boy?" I said petting his head gently. He is staring right at the dishwasher. I look up only to find the little boy sitting in his same position again. The same hair, tears, clothes, the same eyes pleading for help. I look at him for a second, wondering what I could do to help him. Why won't he talk? I think in my mind what he could possibly want. Then, he suddenly disappears. It dawns on me that he wants to be let free, but he is too scared to talk to me.

"Jill, take Max out before we leave!" my dad shouts to me. "Max Max where are you?" I call out. Then, I spot something behind our dining room table. Thinking it was Max, I walk over there. "Max, there is no need to hide you know I will get you, you silly puppy!" I say laughing to myself. Before I know it, I hear a little puppy trotting up behind me. I look back to see Max coming up behind me to see what I was doing. I look back behind the table and I still see it. I recognized it. I knew it looked so familiar. Then I realized it was the little boy I saw about a year ago. However, why wasn't he in the reflection? This was the first time the poor lost spirit was courageous enough to show himself without the help of the reflection of the dishwasher. His little hands were around the chair legs and his eyes still looked at me for help. "What's wrong, Jill? I said to take the d*** dog out now!" I looked back at my dad, and then quickly I turned back to the boy. He was gone.

I know that the little guy needs help. How can I possibly help him? He keeps disappearing before I get the chance to speak to him. I now realize that he is starting to become less afraid as he is now not just in the reflection, but now he is in other parts of the house too. There has to be a way to help him. There just has to be a way.