The Lost Girl

I sighed through gritted teeth. “What do you mean?”

“It’s morbid, is what it is. Why on earth would you put something like that up for everyone to see?”

“It reminds me of her,” I replied meekly. “Does it bother you?”

“It’s very strange, Diane. Very strange.”

That stayed with me for days.

One night, we were watching television. He’d dozed off in the chair, and I was about to join him. As my eyelids fell heavy over my vision, I suddenly caught sight of the doll, its face turned enquiringly at me. As I stared at it, half asleep, my uncle’s words from floated back in my mind.

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. :)