From Hannah:

My mother and I were driving to my Grandma's house. I was 12 years old. On the way there, there's this cemetery named Rosehill. My mother, without a word of warning, drove into the entrance.

"Mom, why are we going here?" I asked. She didn't answer.

I didn't ask again because she wasn't in a good mood.The clock said 8:06. I had a bad feeling. Six is my bad luck number and the clock said 8:06 when I looked at it. My mom stopped the car.

"Who . . . ?" I began to ask. My mom cut me off by saying,"Lisa."

"Ohhh," I thought. We're visiting Lisa, my mom's old best friend. She had died about a year earlier from suicide. She had been addicted to heroine and was being beaten by her boy friend. So she combined Tylenol and beer and killed herself.

My mom got out of the car carrying some flowers. I was waiting in the car, alone, at night, in the dark. It was a big van so I was imagining pale skinny ghosts sitting in the seats behind me. I was scaring myself so I said to myself "Hannah,quit doing this to yourself. There are no ghosts in the car."

Then I pulled down the mirror on the ceiling of the car to put on my earrings. Once I got my earrings in I leaned back in the car seat. The mirror was still down.I rested my eyes,only for a few seconds though. I opened my eyes and looked at the back seats in the mirror.Through the back windows I saw this thin pale woman dressed in a long black dress.The woman had long black hair. She was staring STRAIGHT at me.

I looked at my mom standing by Lisa's grave. I was to too scared to just run out of the car so I put the mirror back up. I turned around to look out the back window again. There was nothing at first, but then she was back! That same woman was standing at the back window again, staring STRAIGHTat me.

She was very skinny, very pale, with long dark hair. She had big dark circles under her eyes. And purple thin lips. She was standing there with her head sllightly tilted. Her lips were moving as if she were saying something over and over - but there was no sound.

Then my mom came back. The woman disappeared.

I asked my mom if saw anybody by the back of the car. She said no.

"Why do you ask?" she said.

"No reason," I replied nervously, thinking everything would be fine as soon as we drove out of the cemetery. Little did I know the pale, dark-haired woman would follow me home.

That night, in my bedroom, in the clearest sounding voice I have ever heard, "You look like my daughter! Where is she? Nobody can find her. Where are you hiding her? Answer me. Answer me. ANSWER ME!"

The first part was in a sweet, soft woman's voice.The last part was a deep devilish voice, like something from The Exorcist.

I screamed and ran into my mom's room. She asked what happened.

"Nothing," I said, "I just had a bad dream."

But that was no dream. I remember it far too clearly, as if it happened only yesterday.