It’s something that still scares me to bits. No one can ever tell me that it was my imagination. When my daughter, Maelo, was 3 years old she started playing with imaginary people. Whenever I questioned her she would reply that it was the ‘boy’ or ‘baby’ that she had been talking to. She would hand over toys to these ‘people’ in front of me.
At first I put it down to imagination, an active child imagination because Maelo was a highly intelligent child. Then things escalated.
After midnight pictures would fall off the walls. We would hear footsteps in corridors. One day the TV, which is placed very high up, came on when Maelo was alone in the bedroom. I asked her who had turned it on and she replied, ‘the daddy’. At other times she would mention a ‘mummy’.
I would often hear her have conversations with ‘people’ and this went on and on for weeks till Halloween night. We had been out for a meal and went to bed at 11pm. I was woken up by a noise. I looked at the clock and it was 1.50am on the 31st of October. Standing by the bedroom door was a tall figure illuminated in shining white light. I was petrified and was almost frozen in fear. My husband was asleep beside me and Maelo was in her bed. We lived in a one bedroom flat at the time.
I called the local Vicar who set a date to come around to bless the flat. Before the vicar arrived on the day, Maelo’s surrogate gran who was very worried about it all suggested that we check the roll call of people who had died in the area during a bombing raid. My husband and I had not known about this list beforehand. The roll call was listed in a local community hall minutes away from the flat. Before gran and I set off we asked Maelo for the names of the ‘people’ whom she was seeing and communicating with. She struggled to get the surname out but kept repeating the word ‘Ches’. Again, she referred to the ‘baby, boy, mummy and daddy’.
We trotted off to the hall and looked up the roll call of names and there, listed quite clearly, was a family of 4 called ‘Chesneau’. The children were aged 2 and 7 when they died with their parents.
Imagination? I still don’t think so. Am I telling fibs? My imagination really couldn’t make this up. Sceptical folk have been spooked by this especially when I have taken them personally, to this day, to view the roll call.