My Best Friend For Life...And Death

by Cortney
(New Jersey)

I as a young child was not somebody who had a whole lot of friends. My parents divorced, making my mother somehow seem to drift away from me.

I spent a lot of time alone, until I had looked at my front gate. A girl my age (I was about 5), long black hair, and a red dress. I became alarmed and demanded her to say who she was. "My name is Emily! I came by to be your friend, Cortney!".

I only realized today that it was strange she knew my name already. I shrugged it off, feeling happy that I would have a new friend to play with and share my secrets with. All day, everyday, we would run around the backyard like the rugrats we were until my mother had called to get me.

A year had gone, and Emily had become my bestest friend; I told her every secret, all about my family, but she would never speak about hers. On Christmas Eve opening presents, my mother had asked who I have been talking to outside all this time.

I told her all about my best friend, and she only looked at me puzzled, as if I wasn't making any sense. Asleep that night, it was the night when things became strange. I woke up in my bed to the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing, but was too far away to see who was doing it.

All of a sudden, Emily had crepped through my door. I got up all excited to see my best friend, but she looked at me sad. She said she was sorry for waking me up, but that she was only wanting my attention. I forgave her and immediently asked her what the matter was.

She said "Your mommy doesn't think I'm real. She doesn't want us to be friends." And she began to weep. I held her hand and told her, "I know you're real, I play with you every day!". When all of a sudden, my mother had come into my room and told me to go back to bed.

I became scared that she would see Emily and make her leave. When I had said, "Mommy, why don't you believe in Emily? She's real!" My mother kept telling me over and over again, I was alone in my room. I didn't believe her and made her get out of my room.

Ignorant of my mother's accusation, I played with Emily for many years to come. But as I got older, and started to make more friends, the less and less I had seen Emily. Though the less I saw her, the more the strange things would happen around the house.

The cats would stare at corners, objects would be moved, but mainly objects would disappear and reappear in strange places. Many of my dolls would be placed in different positions or even be wearing different clothes.

To this day, I believe Emily still plays around my house, being the young child she probably never got to grow up as. R.I.P. Emily, I will never forget my Best Friend.

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