Okay I am going to start the story of the Little Woman but I am going to do it in several parts because the story of the Little Woman unfolds over a period of quite a few years, takes place in a couple different locations, and was told to me in bits and pieces by many different people. I am going to start the story from long ago in my childhood.
I can't remember my exact age but I know I was pretty young...possibly about 4-6 years old. I know this because when I was young there was a twin sized bed in my parents bedroom that I slept in. I suppose a few nights I actually fell asleep in the bed but more often I fell asleep in my mom's bed and was later transferred to the twin sized bed. My father worked second shift and arrived home about 1:30 or so.
One night I was snuggled in bed next to my mom, I know it was late because she was sleeping soundly. For some unknown reason I awakened, and could feel quite distinctly someone standing on the foot of the bed. I, at first, felt no fear as I assumed it was my father crawling into bed, although quite honestly I had never known him to actually STAND on the bed but merely to crawl into it. So a bit groggily I pushed the blanket from around my face with every intention of protesting the move into the twin bed. When I looked up I was amazed and yes in this case frightened.
Standing on the foot of the bed was a little "old" woman about 4 feet tall with long flowing hair. To me the hair appeared gray or silver but others have described it as blonde. I looked at her for several seconds and she was smiling down at me quite benignly. But none the less, in the tradition of all small children, I immediately pulled the covers over my head and stayed very still. I do not remember how long I stayed there still and quiet beneath the covers, I have no conscious memory of the woman leaving but eventually I must have fallen asleep.
Now the woman did not appear threatening but for a small child, even one growing up on a haunted farm, it is quite startling to find someone you do not know standing on the foot of your bed in the middle of the night, when the room is dark and the silence seems to hover. I can't remember talking to my mother about it the next day but I must have because years and years later we had a conversation about this very event and she had some interesting information to add to the story of the Little Woman. For this was not the first time the Little Woman had visited, and little known to me at the time of that particular conversation, it would not be the last.
But more details about that piece of the story in Part Two.
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