When I was a young boy about 8 years old, I had a real bad fever. I felt bloody awful with cold sweats, chills but burning up and shivering at the same time. My temperature was about 103, and I was miserable. Several people kept coming into my bedroom to check on me. My mom was worried, my aunt stopped by, even the neighbors were concerned.
At some point, one of the neighbor’s kids came into my room and stood at the foot of my bed. They were new to the neighborhood so I had never seen the kid. He said he was 7 years old and seemed nice, but I didn’t feel well enough to talk to him. He just stood there saying “when you feel better, we’ll play outside.”
That evening I could hear my mom talking with the neighbor in the kitchen, but the neighbor’s kid was still standing at the foot of my bed as I faded in and out of sleep. I was so sick I couldn’t make out what time it was, but it was dark and I could still hear the neighbor kid just repeatedly whispering “when you feel better, we’ll play outside.”
I guess he stayed there all evening and at some point I woke up and the little boy was sleeping on the floor next to my bed and I faded out again. By morning time my fever broke and I felt much better, but the little boy was gone. I was so happy to not be shivering and freaking out and I was actually hungry so I got out of bed. I walked to the kitchen and my mom was very happy to see me doing better. I told her I was hungry and she made me pancakes, my favorite.
As I poured syrup all over them I asked my mom, “What time did the little boy leave?”
She looked at me puzzled and asked, “What little boy?”
I said, “the neighbor’s kid that was in my room all evening.”
Mom said, “Son, there was no kid in your room yesterday.”
I figured I was dreaming and forgot all about it and tore into my delicious pancakes. Years later, when I was about 15 years old, I recalled that fever and I asked my mom if she remembered that weekend that I was sick and I thought a little boy was in my room. She said, “Yeah, I remember that. I couldn’t tell you then, because you were too young, but I have something to tell you.”
“OK” I replied.
She said, “You know how you asked about the neighbor’s kid that was in your room.”
I said, “Yeah, but I just figured I dreamed all that.”
She said, “Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t, but the neighbor had a 7 year old boy that died and that’s why they moved here, to start over.”
I freaked out and asked, “How did he die?”
Mom said, “From a real bad fever.”
—
Credits to: PincheSpade
Comments