The Lost Girl

A change had fallen over the doll’s face. Before I had viewed it as a living being, the personification of her killer’s guilt. Now I saw only a child’s doll. An empty thing.

“Can you really look me in the eye and tell me you’ve forgotten?”

I met his angry gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were a nasty, malevolent little girl,” his lip curled over with a strong and biting hate. “I always said that something would happen…”

He was leading me somewhere with these questions, down a dark and dusty path. I let him take me there, dragged into his poisonous re-imagining of our past.

“You’ve got some nerve….accusing me of something! We both know what happened to her…”





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. :)