The Lost Girl

Forty years later and almost everyone involved in that story is dead. The doll - still eyeless, dirt smudged into the petticoat - lies dormant on the mantelpiece. It has been there ever since we cleared out my mother’s house.

It doesn’t normally scare me. During the day it is simply a rusty old doll with a glassy eye and a waning face. When viewed in the night, things change considerably. Darkness has a way of warping reality, taking everyday things and twisting them out of perspective. I’d become a child again, a feeling of uncertain fear turning my stomach as I stared across at it.

The doll was no longer a simple ornament; it became a haunting memory, a lost child crying in the woods. I’d think of her pretty face; forever trapped in youth, forever entwined with the doll. I would begin to question what could possibly have happened to her, and why she would ever leave the doll behind. I’d sit for hours and wonder, the doll looking back at me with the same hopeless stare.

I did think about taking it to an antique dealer, but the sentimental value is too much. I don’t whether anyone should want it. The blond curls are colourless and flaccid, the face blotchy and scratched, but it is still an antique. I’d never do it really; it would dishonour her memory, or whatever’s left of it.

I had been watching it that morning, surveying the doll with bored and tired eyes. Since leaving work, I spend most of my mornings in the same seat, watching the four walls around me. I had almost drifted off when I heard the telephone.  Its incessant ringing quickly drowned my macabre thoughts, and I went out to the hallway to answer it.


The voice on the other end was a familiar one, which always unnerves me more than hearing a stranger’s. Family always want something. True enough, my cousin Marcia had a favour to ask. Our mutual uncle, Sidney needed somewhere to stay while she went and pleasured herself with a four week cruise.

“He says he’s fine to be left on his own,” she said “But we all know he isn’t. We’d be so grateful if you could.”

About me

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. :)