I saw her. She saw me…

My family had a cabin while I was growing up. It is located in a tiny village in the south of Norway, and it’s right next to a giant lake. The house itself was built by my dad’s ancestors about 200 years ago. It was originally a farm where they kept cows, chickens and a cat. The property is huge, with a private beach, wooded area in the back, and giant fields to grow crops. There’s three buildings; the main house, the barn and a storage shed with a workroom. In the middle of the three buildings was a gigantic tree we used to have a swing in.

I saw her. She saw me...

I never went into the shed or the workroom, so I have no idea what was actually in there. But the barn was somewhere I used to love. It was pretty big, lots of nooks to hide in and if you stood at the right spot you could see down to the lower level where the cows used to live.

The one thing I remember the best was the day my brother pushed me on the swing so hard that I could feel my feet almost reach the windows on the second floor of the house. That was a great day.

But the day I’m going to talk about is something very different.

My parents and I had joined my uncle for the summer, because the house needed to be fixed and painted. But this particular day, we’d taken a break from all the work. We decided to go fishing late at night.

We had a boat with a tiny motor and we had it placed at our private beach. We took it out and my uncle was sitting in the back. He had to sit in the back because he didn’t use a fishing pole, he used a plank with a string and hooks on it and he’d let the string sink into the water and wait for anything to bite. I was using a silver hook on a fishing pole, and this is what happened; my uncle didn’t get any fish and I got five large ones. He was pretty jealous of me then, but he was also happy because he knew I wouldn’t eat the fish.

When we got back to the house, we cleaned the fish and the clock was suddenly 00:30 and it was time for bed, at least for me. I was 12 at the time and needed my sleep.

I stood in the kitchen brushing my teeth. The windows were as old as the house, so they were very unclear to look through, but in the dark they worked like mirrors and you could clearly see what was around and behind you, but not what was outside.

It felt like a normal night. Everything was as I always felt it was, no weird energies or feelings in the air.

So, I was minding my own business, brushing my teeth. I looked in the window to keep an eye on my parents so they couldn’t prank me or scare me, which they usually did, but what I saw wasn’t them.

Something was blocking the doorway into the living room.

Someone was blocking the doorway.

I kept looking in the window to get a good look at the person behind me.

She was wearing traditional Norwegian clothes; a woollen skirt, it was black with an apron over it. Her shirt was white with puffy sleeves. Her hair was blonde, tied up in a tight knot on the top of her head. Her face was stern and she had a tiny, almost invisible, smile on her face. She was looking directly at me, not breaking eye contact with me.

I couldn’t scream, couldn’t say anything, because my toothbrush was still in my mouth. I spat out the toothpaste, turned around to see if she was still there, but she was gone.

I didn’t talk to anyone about it until the next morning.

“Mom, I saw something last night,” I remember saying. She asked me what and I told her; “It was a woman. I’ve never seen her before, but she isn’t alive.” “Let me help you,” she said. She walked into my uncle’s bedroom (which doubled as a second living room). She opened a few cabinets, but didn’t find anything. She proceeded to open a couple of drawers, but it wasn’t until we got to the very last one that she found something. She handed me a stack of pictures.

I looked through all the pictures, which I’d never seen before, and asked who these people were. “They’re your father’s relatives,” she smiled. I kept looking through them. “Mom, who’s this?” I asked. I’d found the woman from the night before. “I don’t know, let’s ask Dad.”

Dad said something along the lines of; “Erika. She used to live here. She was the head of the house. A strict woman.” I looked at Mom and blinked repeatedly. “Mom, she’s still here.”

And that’s when everything poured out of them. Dad told me he’d get tapped on the shoulders all the time. Mom said she had been pushed, that she’d been touched, that she’d felt her belt straps being tugged at.

I tried to put it all together with what I remembered.

I used to feel watched as I slept, which was why I shared my bedroom with my mom when we were there. I’d heard footsteps in the stairs. But I never thought it could be paranormal. Not until I saw her. Not until she saw me.

Now that I’m grown up, I’ve learnt that I’m sensitive, and partly psychic. But I never thought that as a kid. I never thought these things were possible. But this is my truth and I know what I saw was real.