The House With The Dolls


I looked up at the black painted balcony and all the dolls. They were brightly coloured with pigtails and of various shapes and sizes. I stood there for a moment mesmerised by the dolls; there was something not quite right.

“It was no trouble Harry.”

“Well I remember my Dad telling me. Apparently a woman lived there on her own back in the 50’s and she was a school teacher. She used to take some of the girls back from her school and she murdered them.”





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)