The Doll

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Spooky Doll

Chrissie and I had already divided the room we slept in. There was a strip of blue masking tape down the center of the room from the doorway to the windows. It was equally divided by square footage but Chrissie, of course, always complained that I had more room because I had two windows and she only had one. Not my fault the house was built with three windows and our side walls were not evenly spaced. She had access to the bathroom; I had to use the one in the hall. Chrissie was a slob and her clothes and toys were all over the space she occupied. Her idea of making her bed was to shove all her crap under it and throw the blanket up. She never properly made her bed. On the reverse of this was my side of the room that looked like no one lived in it. Everything was put away neatly, and the bed was hospital perfect ten minutes after I got out of it in the morning. I didn’t have any pictures or posters on the walls because I love my wall paper and the scroll work of the header boards. My desk was clear of clutter because I asked my dad when I was in fifth grade for a file cabinet. There wasn’t a speck of dust on anything; my used clothes went down the laundry chute as soon as I had my pjs on. As a matter of fact, I washed my wooden floor once a month and you probably could eat off it.

When we got home, with that disgusting doll, she set it up on a dresser where I had to see it from everywhere in the room.

“Would you please put that thing on the other dresser, Chrissie?”

“No! I like it there!”

“It’s got creepy eyes that follow me all over my half of the room.”

“It’s supposed to do that! It’s watching you because you’re mean to me.”

“If you weren’t such a brat I wouldn’t be mean to you.” I retorted and left the room.

After dinner that night, when I was finally ready for bed, I saw her reading the back of the box the doll was in.

“What’s so interesting there?” I asked and came to the line.

“I’m reading the spell instructions to make it alive.”

I made a disgusting noise. “Yeah, like a commercially made doll can be alive.”

“These aren’t commercially made. Each doll is made by hand by a witch.” She answered me like it was a huge secret.

“Yeah, and I’m Cinderella. Well put it up and get under the covers, it is bed time.”

She did as she was told, the only time she does, and was in her bad and rolled away from me before I turned out the light.

Things were sort of normal for the next several days. I hated that damned doll watching my every move but I didn’t particularly feel threatened. All that changed on the next night we had a storm.

During the late hours of the night while the storm was raging I sort of woke up to Chrissie chanting. I rolled over and she was standing on her bed with the doll box in her hands, leaning against the window with a flashlight, reading the incantation on the back of the box.

“Chrissie Marie, get your ass back in bed now or I’ll blood your nose and half your face.” I hissed at her.

She ignored me.

I flipped my blankets back and got into my slippers. “Don’t make me come over there.” I warned her.

She ignored me.

I started across the room and by the time I reached her she had finished the incantation. Just then thunder cracked like the house was exploding. It was the absolute loudest thunder I’d ever heard in my life and I think I actually ducked. I know I covered my ears and looked at the floor. When I looked up again, the doll was back on the dresser and Chrissie was getting under her covers.

“Cute, Imp. Now stay there and go to sleep. We have school tomorrow.” I told her and went back to bed.

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