One night as I was going to sleep all alone in my room, I heard something making a mysterious noise in the cistern. I was frightened. For several nights I got my mom, and then my dad, to come and listen to see if they could hear anything strange. But neither could hear anything unusual—nor could I at those times. After several days (and a large amount of teasing from my brother about my imagination) I coaxed my grandma, who was living with us at the time, to come into my bedroom and sit on my bed with me for quite some time. She tried to comfort me by telling me after quite a lengthy period that she thought she could hear something in the cistern. But at that time, I couldn’t hear the scary sound, and besides, Grandma was very hard of hearing, so that was not much comfort to me. My concern persisted. I knew I had heard something. Just because no one else could hear the sound did not change what I knew I had heard.
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