Creepy Encounters at a Crisis Nursery

Scene 1 - A Strange Beginning

Working at a Crisis Nursery is never easy. We take care of children under the age of seven who need emergency and respite care. I've worked the graveyard shift many times, and while I don't believe in the paranormal, things can get pretty creepy at two in the morning when you're the only adults around.

The nursery is named after a child who was beaten to death by one of their parents. It was started to prevent another child from suffering a violent death at the hands of a stressed caregiver. There's a story that the child's spirit haunts the nursery, mostly active at night. My co-workers have told me that children often ask about the kid, wondering why they don't have to go to bed, even though there's no one there.

Scene 2 - The First Encounter

I didn't think much of it and quickly brushed it off. But a few weeks later, I had an experience that shook me to my core.

It was around two in the morning. I was in the Sleep Room, a bedroom where all the kids sleep. An adult must always be present in the room with the children. I was alone, reading a book with a book light. The room was pitch black and silent.

Suddenly, one of the kids, probably around four or five years old, sat up in bed. He pointed at the wall and said, "Hey, how come they aren't asleep? Why do they get to play? I want to play too." There were no other kids in the vicinity. I felt chills run down my spine. I was so scared that I almost screamed. From that moment on, I refused to be alone in that room.

Scene 3 - Growing Unease

After that night, things started to get weirder. The children would occasionally mention the kid who didn't have to go to bed. They would point at empty spaces and talk about someone who wasn't there. It was unsettling, but I tried to remain rational. Kids have vivid imaginations, after all.

But then, other things began to happen. Toys would be found in different places from where they were left. Lights would flicker, and cold spots would appear in the room. It became hard to ignore.

Scene 4 - A Night of Terror

One night, I was working with my friend, Sarah. We were the only two adults on duty. It was around midnight when we heard a strange noise coming from the Sleep Room. It sounded like soft, muffled giggling. We exchanged nervous glances and decided to check it out together.

We opened the door slowly, our hearts pounding. The room was dark, and the children were all asleep. But the giggling continued, coming from the corner of the room. We shone our flashlights in that direction, but there was nothing there. The laughter stopped abruptly, and the room fell silent. We quickly left the room, our nerves on edge.

Scene 5 - Seeking Answers

The next day, I decided to dig into the history of the nursery. I found out more about the child the facility was named after. Her name was Emily, and she was only six years old when she died. The more I learned, the more I felt a deep sadness for her. I wondered if her spirit was truly haunting the nursery.

I talked to my co-workers, and they shared their own experiences. Many of them had heard strange noises, seen toys move on their own, and felt cold spots. Some had even seen a shadowy figure of a small child out of the corner of their eyes.

Scene 6 - Confronting the Spirit

I decided to take matters into my own hands. One night, I stayed late at the nursery with Sarah. We brought a few toys and set them up in the Sleep Room. We turned off the lights and waited.

Hours passed, and nothing happened. We were about to give up when we heard it—the same soft giggling from before. It was closer this time. The temperature in the room dropped, and we saw one of the toys move on its own.

"Emily?" I called out, my voice shaking. "Are you here?"

The giggling stopped, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, we saw her—a faint, shadowy figure of a little girl standing by the wall. She looked at us with sad eyes, and then she was gone.

Scene 7 - Finding Peace

After that night, the strange occurrences didn't stop completely, but they became less frequent. I like to think that Emily found some peace knowing that we remembered her and cared about her story.

Working at the Crisis Nursery is still challenging, but I feel a connection to the place now. It's as if Emily's spirit is a reminder of why we do what we do. We are here to protect and care for these children, to give them the safety and love that Emily never had.

Even though the nights can still be creepy, I no longer feel scared. Instead, I feel a sense of purpose. And sometimes, in the quiet moments, I think I can still hear her giggle, a reminder that she is still with us, watching over the children she never got to befriend.