By Theresa Rutherford
The Hatman and the Little Girl
I grew up in a small old house in a very old and rough neighbourhood on the north side of town. The area in which I lived always had more crime than other areas of the city and we who lived here were referred to as “the northerners” which was not a compliment I assure you. More than once in my neighborhood I remember witnessing unfortunate souls being taken away after their untimely deaths. Police, ambulance and coroner arriving followed by the removal of a stretcher with its deathly still passenger, draped over with a dark velvet cover. I was finally given an opportunity to move to a new area of town but only after a murder in the house just two doors down. I was relieved to be leaving.
This small house was also home to my three siblings, my parents and the occasional individual escaping some kind negative circumstance. I don’t know if my brothers and sister experienced anything but I do know my mother did in this house. She experienced small things like objects moving on their own, items lost then showing up in strange places. She also had trouble sleeping and was quite often in a state of depression. It was a hard placed to live and raise a family.
In the room where I slept there was a window on the wall beyond the end of my bed, even with the curtains drawn tight a small amount of light would still shine thru. One night I was awakened from a deep sleep to a deathly silent house. I still don’t know exactly what woke me but what ever it was it jolted me awake. Peering over my night covers and looking toward the window on the other side of the room and I froze with fear. In front of the window stood the dark silhouette of a man standing tall and imposing. He was not wearing contemporary clothing, he was wearing what looked like a collarless cape or robe of some kind and he was wearing a hat. The hat was wide, in my mind I thought it looked like a three cornered hat. I could see no details at all just the dark outline of a man. I scrambled out of bed groping with fear to find the light switch. I was terrified when I reached the light but relieved once I turned it on as no one was there.
The appearance of this “Hat Man” happened multiple times over a month or so and each time it became more terrifying as he would appear closer to the end of my bed. The last time he appeared to me was the worst. I awoke to see him floating right over my feet but this time I could see some details in his clothing and I could see under the brim of his hat what looked like red eyes. I was terrified as all at once the entity fell toward me. I put my arms up to stop his fall, tightly closed my eyes and screamed. Of course I awakened the other members of the household but assured them I was just having a bad dream. To be honest at the time I think this is what I really wanted to believe and I certainly didn’t want my family members thinking I was losing my mind or delusional. Fortunately this was the last time I was visited by this presence, I did not see the Hat Man again but my strange experiences were not yet over.
The next entity I started to see was not quite so terrifying. I started to see a little girl. Thinking back on it I can still remember her so well. She was just quietly standing across the room, looking at me. She appeared to be about 8 years old, had light brown hair that was worked into two braids hanging down in front of each shoulder. I can even describe in detail what she was wearing; she had on a white shirt and a red and black kilt. I recall looking at her and thinking how odd it was that her orange socks did not match her Celtic outfit. I was not afraid of her as she just stood there looking at me, she just appeared to be very sad.
I mustered enough courage to talk about this encounter with one of my more open minded girl friends and she in turn talked to her equally open minded Mom. My girlfriend came back bringing me a disturbing message. Her Mom thought it could be one of two things happening, I was either having a nervous break down (which was really comforting to hear) or it was a ghost. She also told me an entity would never talk unless you speak to it first. My friends Mom sent me a dire warning that it was important for me to talk to the little girl and to tell her that she must leave and go home. She was adamant that this is to be done right away for the little girl’s sake and for my own well-being.
I was shocked, I wasn’t expecting anyone to believe me let alone send a message like this. I didn’t know if I had it in me to talk to someone (or something) that may or may not be there. The little girl didn’t scare me but I knew I shouldn’t be seeing her. So I waited for the girl’s return, and I didn’t have to wait long.
Sleep was again stolen from me as I was awakened to the form of a little girl standing at the end of the bed. Again her stoic appearance did not frighten me. I slowly sat up in my bed and pulled together enough courage to smile and ask her why she was here. She continued looking at me but said nothing. I told her I didn’t want to see her so unhappy anymore and I thought it best that she go home and assured that she may be happier there. I waited a few minutes but she did not respond. I then quietly said good night and drifted back to sleep. The little girl must have gone home because she never came back again. I am glad.
I moved away from the house shortly after and have had many experiences since but nothing like the ones I had in that tiny old house in the rough side of town.