I run the lost and found for a large airport, and I’m still in awe of what this one item has done to my life.

I?m a female, and in my 30s, and I work for the lost and found for a major airport. It was just a job; a way to put food on the table. I loved my job, and the pay was good, but it was just a job. After this happened, I found myself never being able to look at it the same way. There was just something so surreal, so otherworldly, so? weird about it all.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>Some months back, a flight attendant brought our office a small bag. A grey look, with a white buckle, and a pocket on the front. The flight attendant explained that she had found it one morning, on one of the seats, but by the time anyone had noticed it the passengers had already disembarked, and they had no idea as to who it belonged to. I took the bag, and set it aside, in a box along with the other luggage and personal items that had been discovered, with no known owner. Nothing strange so far. This happened quite often, and it was part of my job. The next day, I decided to go through the bag. To see if there was anything in it that could identify the owner.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>As I unzipped it, and peeked inside, I noticed some clothes, a small carton of milk, and a couple of snacks. This bag was clearly meant for a little girl, as it was obvious she was on a trip, and had packed her bag for the plane ride. I continued to search for anything that could lead me to who she was, and that was when I found a diary, tucked away in the small pocket on the front of the bag. It was old fashioned, with a lock and key, but the key was missing. In my mind, I thought that the key was probably with the owner, along with the key to her heart. A young girl’s diary is a very sacred, and personal thing. I wasn’t about to break into it, as that would have been just too personal. So I decided to put the diary back in the pocket. That was it. After a few weeks, the flight attendant returned, and she was very pleased to see that the bag was safe, and had been found. She was relieved at first, but then she seemed confused. I was expecting her to pick up the bag, and that would be that. But instead she seemed almost afraid to touch the bag. She looked as if she had just seen a ghost. She quickly took the diary from the bag, and she was holding it with fear in her eyes. She held the diary up, and she asked me “where did you find this?” I pointed to the pocket, and explained how the key was missing. I remember her exact words, because they still haunt me to this day; “I lost this diary 40 years ago, and I’m the one who lost this bag” The flight attendant explained that she had been on her first trip as an adult, and she had lost her diary along the way. She had been on a connecting flight, going through the airport, and she remembers talking with another flight attendant about how she had lost her diary. This flight attendant had been the one to pick up the bag, and she had since kept it with her, as a good luck charm, but that she had never found the diary. She believed that the lost diary was a bad omen, and that she would never see it again. But then it turned up again, with her lost bag. She was visibly shaken, and she didn’t seem to know what to do. So I suggested that I take the diary, and report it as a personal item, and see if anyone had turned it in, and claimed that they had lost it. I assured her that she didn’t have to do anything, and that I would just keep it in our safe at the office, until someone came looking for it. She agreed, and as she walked away, she seemed to just disappear into thin air.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>I spent the next six months telling people about the diary, and how it had ended up back in the flight attendant’s hands. It was an urban legend to everyone, and no one believed me. Some thought I was crazy, and that I had made up the whole thing. But I knew it was true, because I had been there. I had witnessed the strange occurrence, and it had changed me. I felt like I had experienced something that I wasn’t supposed to experience. I had crossed into another world, another realm, that wasn’t my own. A place that I didn’t belong in, and I was left with the knowledge of what had happened. It weighed heavily on me, and I spent many nights thinking about how the diary had been lost, found, and then lost again, only to turn up 40 years later, and be reunited with its owner.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>*** <br><br>A few nights ago, I was closing up the office, and someone walked in, just as I was about to leave for the day. I turned around to see a little girl, probably around 10 years old, walking towards me, as if she was walking into a room that she knew very well. She was wearing a pretty white dress, and her hair was styled in very neat braids. I thought she was with her parents, but I didn’t see anyone around her. She was alone, and she was walking right towards me. She walked up to me, and she looked me dead in the eyes, and said “I’m looking for my diary. I lost it on an aeroplane, going on a trip to see my sister. I would like it back if you don’t mind” I was completely speechless. I was frozen, as I stared into her eyes, and tried to comprehend what was happening. I couldn’t tell her what had really happened. I couldn’t tell her the truth. But something compelled me to tell her something. I told her that I had never seen the diary, and that I didn’t know what she was talking about. She looked at me, with suspicion, and told me that she knew it was here. She said that her sister had told her that it was still here, and that I was the only one who knew where it was. I told her again that I didn’t know anything about a diary. I tried to convince her, but I could see the determination in her eyes, and I knew that she wouldn’t give up. I had to convince her. I had to make her believe me.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>The little girl with the pretty white dress, and the neat braids in her hair continued to look at me, as if she wanted something from me. But I didn’t have anything to give her. I had already given away what was rightfully hers, and now it was gone. She just stood there, staring at me, as if she expected me to tell her something. She looked at me like a little girl wanting something that she knew she couldn’t have. I continued to try to convince her, until I couldn’t take it anymore. There was something about her that was haunting, and I just wanted her to leave. I just wanted her to go away, and never come back. I wanted her out of my life. I didn’t want anything to do with her diary. I wanted to erase it from my mind, and forget that I had ever even seen it. I knew that I would never forget, and that it would continue to haunt me, but I just wanted her to go away. I stood there telling her over and over that I didn’t have her diary, until I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t understand why she was doing this. Why was she tormenting me? I didn’t know what she wanted from me. But I knew that I couldn’t keep doing this anymore. I stood there, as the little girl continued to stare at me, and I did something that I will regret for the rest of my life.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>I took out my phone, and I took a picture of the little girl. I took her picture, and I walked away. As I looked back, I saw that the little girl had gone. I know that I wasn’t dreaming, and I KNOW what I saw. I’m not crazy. And if you don’t believe me then that’s fine, but I NO THAT WHAT I SAW WAS REAL. It happened. That’s it.