The Doll

I once had an older sister named Mirum. She was 15 years old when she disappeared, and I’m the only one that remembers her. It was around when my grandfather had broken his leg, so my parents left the two of us alone while they set off to help him for a week. Her being a teenager, she found me annoying and never wanted to hang out with me. Thus, she always invited her friends over and left me to play by myself. I was mature and smart enough to take care of myself, so she thought she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

On the first two days, I didn’t care that Mirum never spent time with me. I was satisfied with the neighbors’ kid and our occasional playdates. But on the third day, I desperately wanted her to play with me. It seemed that it was 24/7 that I was tugging on her sleeves and asking her in the sweetest voice ever, “come play with me.” Her friends were there a lot, and I guess they wanted to talk about teenage things instead of playing dolls, so she denied and told me to play with Tommy, the neighbors’ kid. The fourth day was a little worse. I kept tugging and tugging, whining and whining, for her to play with me. Tired of my begging, she asked her friends if they wanted to go to the park. She dropped me off at the neighbors’ house, told them where she would be, and headed off with her friends to get some peace and quiet.

The fifth day rolled along, and I stopped bothering her. I guess she was a little worried because not a day goes where I don’t annoy her for fun. Naturally, she decided to check on me and see if I was okay. My door creaked open, but I was too focused on the inside of my closet to care about her. “Do you want to play with me?” I asked the doll who was seated in my closet. She was about to leave me be, but then she stopped and listened to the whispering happening in my closet.

“Doesn’t your sister want to play with you?” I shook my head and pouted a little, “she’s ignoring me when all I want to do is play. But now, I have you!” The whispering started again. Trying to be careful failed, and my sister fell down on my floor with a ‘thump.’ She got up and looked between me and the closet, but she ignored the doll. I gasped and asked, yet again if she wanted to play. Ignoring me, she walked over to the closet and peered around to make sure there was no one but the doll. Horror was written on her face when she saw there was a broken doll sitting in the middle of the closet, facing me. It could’ve just been my imagination, but I’m sure that its eyes moved from me to her. With a yelp, she snatched the doll from the floor and threw it out the window. It broke even more.

The next day, Mirum came to wake me up but saw me playing with the doll. It was miraculously back to it’s slightly broken state that it was before she threw it. It was sitting in the middle of my closet again and seemed to watch her wherever she walked. Yet also, she took it and, this time, threw it in the trash. The day went on as usual, and I thought that I would never see that doll again. She woke up around 6 in the morning to crashing sounds in the kitchen. Groggily, she went down the stairs, ready to yell at me for being up this early. Her eyes widened when she saw me talking to the doll again, and it spoke back. The trash can was knocked down, and without me touching it, the doll started crawling out of it.

“She didn’t want to play with me today,” I vented to the doll, who then sat down in a criss-cross position and growled. “Do you want me to change her mind?” It said with a murderous smile sketched all across her face. I nodded, not knowing any better, and the doll stretched out its tiny little hand. “Then let’s make a deal; I need to...inhabit your body for me to persuade her. If she knew that a doll talked, she would probably faint or sell me to scientists.” I nodded in agreement and shook the doll’s hand. A dark purple surrounded both of us, and I fell asleep.

When I awoke, I couldn’t move or say anything. I could only watch as different events folded itself out before my eyes. My body seemed to be moving and speaking without my will to do so. The doll was nowhere to be seen. My body stood up and stretched before saying, “ah. It’s been a while since I’ve possessed a human body.” My eyes drifted to the stairs, and I saw Mirum trembling, starting to run to her room. A click was heard, and I knew that she had locked her door. My body walked towards the knife rack, and I saw it was nearly 8 in the morning. My mind was scrambled. Would Mirum call for help? No one would believe her if she said that I got possessed by a talking doll. My free hand grabbed a knife and started to sharpen it, then began to stroll up the stairs, down the hallway, all the way to Mirums’ room.

“Do you want to play with me?” My voice asked sweetly. The doll possessing my body started to jiggle the doorknob, but it was still locked to my relief. “I only want to play with you.” “No! Go away!” was yelled from inside the room. The doorknob started to jiggle again, and I held my breath. A light knock sounded from the door, and the doll smirked, walking to go open it. There stood one of my sisters’ friends, and the doll held out a hand. Purple smoke came out of my body and went into his body. I ran to go help Mirum, but with my luck, I passed out at her door.

About a couple minutes later, I stirred a bit and heard a knock coming from Mirums’ window. I laid there, still unable to move or yell. Footsteps neared the door, and I listened to her friend mumble something about having to come through the window. Then the door was ripped open. There stood the possessed friend, smiling over me, and my sister holding a bat. “While she was an easy target, I prefer people a little bit older,” he was still facing me, but his head started to turn towards Mirum, “you know?” She hit him in the head with the bat, using all of her strength, and a purple smoke escaped from his ears, nose, and mouth. I was still unable to move, but the smoke was starting to go back into my body. Scared, my possessed body began to float into the air. “HOW DARE YOU?!” It spoke in a more resonant, more raspy voice, “I WILL GET YOU FOR THAT!” Mirum started to run away, but the knife in my hand was thrown and scraped her leg, causing her to fall over. Quickly, she got up and started to run away. I watched in horror as her scraped leg was beginning to disappear. “I only want to play,” the voice that came out of my mouth was way deeper, creepier, and seemed glitchy as my body flew after Mirum. She was trying so hard to open the front door, but ‘I’ called over the knife, and it landed in ‘my’ hand again. It was thrown and slashed my sister’s arm, which started to disappear like the leg, then it flew back into my hand. I could feel something filling in my free hand; it felt like a doll’s leg and a bit of arm. This must’ve been where her limbs were disappearing too.

Mirum limped to the kitchen phone and started to dial 911, but ‘I’ got there first. The knife was then stabbed in her other arm, and another doll’s arm began to appear in my hand. The blade then pierced her leg; no blood came out though, it just started to fade away into nothingness. She started sobbing about not wanting to die. I could feel my lips fill into a smile, and ‘my’ hand quickly stabbed the rest of my sister’s body. As her head was fading, ‘I’ said, “you should’ve played with me.′ And a little groan was given in response. Once she was all faded away, I fell asleep and dropped to the floor. I could sense that I was getting control over my body again.

About a day later, my parents woke me up with a smile, and I shot up. My eyes cased my room, and I saw that I was back in my bed. “Where’s Mirum?” My parents looked confused for a second before my dad answered. “I don’t know who Mirum is, sweetie,” my mom then thought for a second, “I think it’s that doll she’s always playing with. I think it’s in your closet.” Confused, I ran off to my closet, and sure enough, there was the spitting image of my older sister-now a doll-sitting in the middle of my closet. I ran off to what was supposed to be her room, but all I saw was an office.

It’s been years since I’ve told that story, and Mirum is now my new little sister’s doll. But late at night, I can hear her talking to Mirum. And she talks back.Start writing here…