The Lost Girl

Suddenly back in my house, we watched the television and I told him not to scare me like that again. He laughed loudly and his laughs mutated into knocks at the door. As I got up to answer, I shot a casual glance at the mantelpiece. The doll was gone, and in its place a little girl. A dead girl. With empty eyes and a bloody mouth and pale as a mortuary slab. I remember trying to scream.

When I awoke, the living room was cold and my mouth was dry. The doll was slumped forward, dirty hair hanging over the face. I heard shouting, vague and wordless, and ran to Sidney’s room. He was sat in bed, looking helpless and impotent. His whimpering face stared up at me like a frightened child.

“Where have you been?”

“Sleeping. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t get out of bed by myself.”

“I know…I know…”





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. :)