The Little Girl Watching You From The Foot Of Your Bed

It has been several times when I wake up and see a figure moving away from my bed in the shadows. It happens at least once a week since I moved into this place. It seemed nice on the inside, something designed by an interior decorator, even though the outside is old and musky.

I wasn’t expecting to like the new apartment, since it is in a neighborhood full of retirees and people who have nothing better to do than to sit in front of their porches and pick food out of their teeth, but its warm and has everything I need.

I’m on a work assignment for three months. I paid for those three months upfront, since the owner offered me a deal, though she told me that cleaning services were included, but they haven’t showed up yet.

I know about the missing cleaners because something strange happened to me, the very first memorable moment about this place. I had just gotten back from work and when I heard someone moving things around in my room. I saw a stuffed teddy bear right outside the hall and a small heap of dirt, gum wrappers, and other small pieces of trash right by the door.

I figured the cleaning people had gotten there before me and let themselves in, but when I got to the room to say hello, nobody was there. I called the owner’s cell phone and left a message about the cleaners, but she called me back to say that they weren’t going to be able to clean up my place, but that I would be reimbursed. It was odd.

Still confused, I picked up the black bear and put it on my kitchen counter. It was an old raggedy thing, I was surprised I hadn’t seen it before. I wanted to throw it out, but figured that it might belong to someone, to one of the owners perhaps, and just kind of set it in plain sight.

That night I heard noises in the kitchen late into the night, like something metallic falling from the counters, like forks or knives. I turned on my lights and went straight for the kitchen. Nothing was on the floor, nothing seemed out of place.

Creeped out, I went back to my room and sat on my bed for a while.

That’s the night when the moving shadow started showing up. At first, it must have been a dream, since I clearly saw somebody, a little girl, floating away from the foot of my bed and toward the bedroom door. I had been woken up by the cries of a cat when I saw the figure. Oh, how I hate cats. They sound like real babies when they cry.

Every week or so after that, I wake up due to a random tap or knock, and my eyes adjust in the dark to catch the dark figure moving away from me, from my side of the bed.

It’s only recently, last week actually, that I got a clear view of what the figure is. It’s a little girl, and she stands there, with a creepy smile, way too big for her face, leaning slowly toward me. One night, trying not to act too scared, hoping she would go away, I rolled over to the side, toward the window and shut my eyes.

Curiosity got the best of me and slowly, I opened them again. And there she was, as if she knew to wait for me. Her pale skin and purple lips in the shape of a broad smile, her dark pupils staring right at me. I could smell her now, the stench was that of rotting meat.

I rolled over to the other side and off the bed, and reached for the light switch. I turned around. She was gone.

I told my coworkers the story, and even though most laughed at first, two days ago every single one of them that I told mentioned that they too started seeing the little girl with the creepy smile. That she just stares. All of the descriptions match.

The coworker that I hang out with the most believes it to be the hidden girl of the objects, which is a legend among the old folk in town. She can make objects appear before showing up herself. They say that she warns you, sometimes with whispers and sometimes with knocks. She wakes you up over a period of weeks before appearing. He sent me a link to a blog post about it, it was published back in 2002, where the author writes in detail every single time the little girl appeared while she slept. She even had a hand drawn image of… it.

The thing is, I had read about this before, from some random Japanese forum I visit sometimes, except she was called the teeth girl, I figured they must have done a poor job translating the story when I read it. It wasn’t very interesting. But this new post shared something else. It came with a warning. On the site, it says: “Share with the affected only.”

With the affected? Only? My coworker told me about a theory that he has, that the story is the trigger. The story brings her to life again. He told me that whoever hears about her will let her keep on living. But I don’t believe in that.

But it’s night time now, and I’m getting ready for bed. She might show up again tonight. Maybe at the foot of my bed… maybe at the foot of…

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