Sidenote: This is a story based off personal experiences I have had, mixed with fiction.

After going to this large P!nk concert in Toronto, some of my new friends and I went to another friend’s apartment, and hung out for a couple of hours. They had a rooftop lookout type of thing, and we all stayed up there for a while, watching the stars of the deep black sky, observing the traffic and the bright lights coming from the city, and just simply telling each other stories. After a couple more hours flew by, I checked, my phone, “3:30am” it said, and I felt that it was time to walk back to my apartment.

I was doing a study abroad program with the University of Toronto at St. Georges for 6 months, studying International Studies, Africa specifically. When I entered the apartment after a 1.5 hour flight from New York, I was happy to find that the apartment I was put up in by the university was nice, as it came with its own pots, pans, vacuum, and all other apartment amenities. I even got my own room! And my roommates were nice, and during the entire 6 month stay in Toronto, we always bought food together, carrying the stuffed plastic bags from the grocery store to my apartment a couple blocks away. What was also nice was that my apartment was close to the school, and also only a 30 minute walk from the downtown area.

“How lucky am I to be here” I thought to myself, as I exited my friend’s apartment. They offered to host me for the night, but I declined, “I have an assignment due in the morning” I said as I walked down the dimly block at 3:45am. I was deep in my thoughts as I made the 30-minute walk home, walking past the large dark shapes of houses, and hearing the sounds of crickets in the night. “I can’t believe I only have 2 more weeks here” I said aloud, because I knew that I would miss it, but at least I would have some great memories to hold onto. I was almost halfway home when I saw her.

I was going to take a short-cut that I hadn’t taken before home, and it felt safe. In the neighborhood I was in, nothing shady was going on. Then as I walked close to another dimly lit street corner in an attempt to take the short-cut, I saw a woman. She had long brown and wavy hair that went down to her waist, and was wearing a white gown. The thing that I remember most about her was that she was so pale, as pale as the color ivory. I kept walking, but didn’t take my eyes off of her as she was only 300 feet from me, then 200, then 100, then 50. I didn’t want to take any chances, and I was way too tired to deal with this, so I started running. It was my lucky night I guess, because then she started to follow me down the poorly lit street. I sprinted for 3 blocks until I didn’t see her, it’s as if she disappeared without a trace. After stopping to stabilize the beating of my heart again, I ran, and pretty much recited the Lord’s prayer while running.

The next morning, I told my roommate what happened, and he weirdly didn’t look surprised. “I’ve seen her before, she’s been seen in restaurants, parks and bars across the city” he exclaimed to me calmly. “Some of my friends from last year saw her in that large haunted church downtown. They said she was in a corner of the church crouching, then screamed at them and ran across the stage, then disappeared into thin air” he continued. “In fact, the people across the hall saw her too, and after that, had heard loud banging and such in their kitchen in the mornings. However, they all claimed that none of them were up yet when the banging happened” he explained to me. He stopped since he could see that I was shaking. Needless to say, morning after, my roommate and I both heard loud noises coming from our kitchen, and when we got up, we both found that it was a mess. What I remember specifically was the large bread knife laying on the kitchen counter, with its' sharp blade covered in mustard.

I couldn’t soundly sleep for the rest of the month, as I found myself too anxious and too afraid to go to sleep every night. As a Catholic, I prayed, and would’ve gone to church, but they were all haunted I learned, and I wasn’t going to get any holy water from a haunted church. However, what gave me the most comfort during this time of fear and paranoia was my rosary. Interestingly enough, I had found it while going through my backpack looking for a French assignment; I had not intended to bring it with me. My grandmother back in California had given it to me for protection before I flew off to college in New York, it also was blessed with holy water.

After I had found it, I clung to it night after night, it was the only possible thing I thought I could protect myself with from the unknown. I left Toronto about 2 weeks later, after my study abroad program had finished. I remember distinctly looking out at the city as the plane flew away from it, smiling and finally finding peace.

I told most of my friends and some family this story, and while many believed me, others didn’t, no matter what I said. “Ghosts aren’t real” some said in disbelief. What I didn’t tell them was that after I told my roommate back in New York this story, I felt a very strong presence that night, coming from the black darkness of my closet. I stared at it with intensity and fright, thinking I had left it all behind. She then appeared in the moonlight of the window, staring at me, her appearance had not changed. She disappeared suddenly as I grabbed for my rosary. All I can say to end this story is that I haven’t seen her again. I have no more words to say, or details to add. That's it.