In 1956, the quiet town of Redwood Hollow, England lost two young sisters, Emily and Grace, in a car accident. Their parents were shattered. A year passed. Then in 1958, the mother gave birth to twin girls. At first, it seemed like a second chance—until the twins learned to speak. At age three, one pointed to a birthmark on her knee and said, “This is where the car hit me.” The other refused to sleep without the light on, warning that “the man in the car comes back when it’s dark.” The parents had never talked about the crash in front of them. Soon the twins began asking for specific toys they had never seen—items that had belonged to Emily and Grace—and describing their old schoolyard perfectly. Every time the family got into the car, they took the same seats their sisters preferred. Desperate, the parents took them back to their old village. The twins ran ahead, laughing, saying, “Come on, we know the way home,” and led them straight to the old playground. One twin pointed to a bare wall and whispered, “Grace drew that, right before we died”—describing a chalk drawing that had been washed away years earlier. To this day, people in Redwood Hollow say those weren’t just twins. Those were two sisters who came back.
