Martha....could it have been her

I do not remember exactly when it started. I was about 4 years, my brother was just a baby, and my parents overprotected us, because as I learned when I was old enough, they had a baby, named Martha who died at age 12, hitting her fragile head against a rock in the garden.

My dad once told me never to go at night to the garden, because you never know what dangers you may encounter. He warned me about snakes, wolves, especially sharp rocks and other things that might kill me. Despite all the warnings my mind was beginning to get curious.

One night, alone in my house it was the opportunity to go outside. My grandmother fell asleep watching the novel of the eight, and the door was unlocked, which could and probably was a sign of the adventure I was about to have.

With a hat and vest "explorer style", and a flashlight, I walked to the garden. I remember well that at that time there was almost nothing in the garden more than a huge vine (can not remember what kind of plant it was, only that it was big as a forest). In some point of my little walk I was disappointed.

I heard noises of movement in the "small forest". Inevitably I went to the jungle and asked "Who's there?". There was no response, and the movement ceased. I was moving away when the creature was within the alleged vine. I went back to peek, I asked and there was no response. I suddenly felt a strong cold behind me, and I turned around . My hair got stuck on a vine, and fearful that my parents were going to arrive and see me were i shouldn't be, I began to cry.

My crying was loud that something came and untangled my hair which was stuck, not to mention that it escorted me back home and closed the door. Mom and Dad returned with my brother in arms.

"Well, how did you behaved child?"

"Okay, Daddy."

"Your grandmother took care of you? Did you have fun with her?"

My response was:

She slept, but Martha came to play with me.