My family and I have moved 3 times in my life. I started in a tiny townhouse. I was too young to remember anything more than the color of the brick in that house. Next was a bigger house, two stories with three bedrooms and three baths, it was perfect for my little family. The house was located on Applemist Road. When I was in kindergarten I used to write my street name out over and over “Applemist Road” always on everything I did, in fun colors, with glitter or glue, almost always with polka-dots. It was like that was the name on my birth certificate, I loved it more than my own.At some point in my living on Applemist, my little sister ended up moving into my room rather than having her own.
She had an intense fear of the dark. Being 10 at the time I just called her a big baby and begged my parents to let me have my room, but her cries every night persuaded them to do otherwise. So it was set, for almost a year and my little sister had to share my twin-sized bed.
My room was almost shaped in a perfect square, despite the short slanted rectangular opening. Against the wall was my dress which faced across from my closet. Lying on the square part of the room was my large TV vanity made out of orange-ish wood with a glossed garnish. Across from it was my bed, my bed lying against the window, being the farthest thing from my door. I had a pink-themed room so of course my comforter was pink paired with colorful polka-dotted sheets that I had yet to change from my earlier adolescence. Every night I and my sister would engulf ourselves in the polka-dotted sheets and I would say things to scare her in the dark.
Phrases like “Who is that girl over there?” and “Did you hear that?” constantly came to mind as we lay in darkness. She would scream loud enough for my parents to hear signifying it was time for me to go to sleep. This became my nightly routine.
One night I woke up from seemingly nothing. I found this odd as I was a heavy sleeper, often needing my mom to readily wake me up for school. However, I had woken up on my own. I looked over to see my sister still asleep, I reached for my iPod on my pillow and found that it was 3:43 AM. Shocked with myself I turned to lie on my back, naturally, I looked up at my ceiling expecting to see the outline of my dark brown fan. That’s when I saw it.
My polka dot sheets which were already pulled up to my nose, due to my natural craving for warmth, were on my ceiling. I crossed my eyes and looked at my nose to see my sheets and looked back to see them also on the ceiling. Puzzled I stared up at them, the longer I started the more unsettled I got as I realized the impossibility of what I was seeing. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, I was glued by the familiarity turned terror of the polka dots, I examined each color and said them out loud in my head. I then remembered the presence of my sister and turned to look at her. When I looked back the sheets had become a dress, the dress of a little girl. She had wet greasy hair and pale skin. I could see her face as she was attached to the wall, limbs bent like a spider holding her directly above me. A hot shiver went down my spine as she turned around silently, limbs bending the opposite way. I now could see her face, her skin was gray and textured her hair looked worse from the front as it framed her face like a bird’s nest. Her inhuman smile spread wide across her face as she watched in parallel to me. Tears welled in my eyes as I threw the covers over my face.
The darkness under the covers didn’t provide the same comfort it had nights before. The sheets were her and she was surrounding me, the colorful dots only fueled my fear. I couldn’t bear the unknown and slowly pushed the sheets down past my eyes only to find her right on top of me. Weightless. Only eyes peered over the polka dots that adorned both my sheets and her dress. As I froze eye to eye with her I blacked out in fear.
The next time I opened my eyes it was time to get ready for school. My sister acted as if nothing happened. Not wanting to ruin my brave big sister identification I told no one of what had happened that night. I did however switch my sheets and never peared my from above them at night.
Years later my family moved into our 3rd house. My father’s parent’s house was very large yet familiar after years of visiting there. After the house was finally renovated I moved into my brand new room. This one was actually shaped a perfect square. The fear of the polka-dotted dress was far in the back of my mind as it had happened a year prior.The first night in my new room I slept as usual, with the covers over my head comfortable with the heat and blanket of soft darkness. It was when I woke in the middle of the night that I felt the familiar dread. Determined to stay under the covers in safety I was reminded of the events from years prior. Folish with age and pride I threw the covers off of me and started at the ceiling. There was nothing. Just a white painting turned gray in the darkness. I giggled to myself and turned as I readied myself to fall back asleep. It was the side my sister used to sleep on, the side that was facing the door. It was at the door that I saw it. The back of a polka-dotted dress.
The girl from Applemist Road. Sometimes I see the polka-dots out of the corner of my eye or when I stare into the dark. It reminds me of the street I used to love so much.
When I found out my roommate loved polka dots I was transported back to my youth. They adorn her sheets that I lay across from.
It was last night in my college dorm that I saw her.