I posted a blog about what I called The Sandeman Don a couple of years ago. This is a (sort of) addition to it.
The Sandeman Don was one of the main reasons my ex-wife used to bring up as an argument for leaving our old house. But, mostly we didn't talk about it between ourselves and, never to outsiders. It's as though it's one of those things that if you mention it too much then you might bring it back.
But, eighteen years ago, one of my ex-wife's friends, Mike, called 'round to see us with his bride to be. They were getting married at the weekend and I was doing their wedding photographs so we had a bit to talk about. When business was out of the way the scotch started to flow and Mike asked why we'd left the old place in such a hurry. So we told him. Mike and his missus-to-be expressed their astonishment and, we assured them that it was all true.
After a while I heard my eldest daughter, Hannah Ruth, crying upstairs. She'd be just approaching three years old at the time and my ex was expecting our third kiddie, Natascha Maria. I went up to see what was wrong with Hannah.
She was sitting up in bed and told me that she'd woken up but couldn't move. She couldn't make a sound either. Sitting on the side of the bed was a little man (she told me). After a few minutes the little man reached out and touched Hannah on the upper arm. There was a sharp stinging and she could move again. The little man flew out of the window and Hannah started crying.
I took a look at her arm and there was a little puncture wound and a drop of blood. I wiped it clean and assumed she'd been bitten by some sort of bug and then woven a dream around the little pain. So, I settled her down and told her that since it was almost Christmas that would have been one of Santa's Little Helpers. He would have been calling 'round to make sure that all good little girls would be tucked up safely in bed at a reasonable time so that, at Christmas, Santa would bring some nice gifts for her. She was happy enough with that and went off back to sleep.
My ex-wife had an uncle George who used to be interested in the paranormal, ghosts, flying saucers, stuff like that. A few weeks after the little man episode he'd given me some of his old magazines to read. I was sitting in an armchair leafing through them with Hannah sitting on my knee. She was half dozing and half looking at the pictures. I put one magazine down and picked up another one. This had a picture of a 'Grey' on the front of it. I stopped to look at the list of titles on the front cover.
Hannah started laughing and clapping her hands. "Look, look." she cried, pointing at the picture of the Grey. "It's Santa's Little Helper.".
The video is taken from a TV series called Dark Skies. It concerns a little girl in Gorki Park at Moscow and the later grown up version of herself.