There it was again. That soft, graceful lullaby.
Okay, let me start from the beginning.
I don't know what made me want to go through my old things. Just me being nostalgic, I guess. So anyways, I had just asked my dad where I could find some of my old stuff.
"You could try the attic. I'm not sure how long since I've been up there, though. Be careful. And put on good shoes!” He said. I ran up to my room and grabbed my old black high-top converse and slipped them on over my fuzzy socks I got last Christmas.
I walked down the hall and to the stairs that led up to the attic. I hadn’t remembered anyone going up there for years, so I didn’t know what I was expecting. On the first step, I put all of my weight on it to make sure it was stable. It creaked but it held still, so I went up. I was on the third step or so when I heard a faint singing. It sounded like a girl younger than me, but so on-pitch, it sounded fake. The second I popped my head up into the frigid room made of wood, I could sense the intense amount of dust. I looked around at a bunch of old stuff I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from, but the fact that nobody had been up here for years sent a chill down my spine. Once I was fully standing in the small room with the low, irregular ceiling, the singing stopped abruptly. I went over to a box that had “Abigail’s toys” written across the top and opened it curiously. The first couple things I saw were old story books and half-naked Barbie dolls. I was shuffling though the box not knowing what I was looking for, when I saw it.
What I saw was a doll.
I pulled away from the box quickly, as if it would jump out at me. But it didn’t, it just sat there looking at me. The eyes of the doll looked like they were stolen from a human’s head, no kidding. The hair was crimped up like a lion’s mane but was tied up nicely with a faded Miami- pink ribbon. When I first saw the doll, it looked as though it was staring back at me, and it sure felt like it was. I just stared at it for a moment, and I knew there was something weird about it, something that I just couldn’t put my finger on. Honestly, it looked like a small, doll-like person, rather than a small, person-like doll. And it scared me. But I picked it right up and held it out in front of me. Then the memory engulfed me.
“Mom, I love it!” I was holding a small, familiar puppy out in front of me. The puppy climbed up my chest and licked my cheek.
"What are you gonna name him?" Mom asked, hoping my answer wasn't "spot" or "fluffy."
"Hmmm.. I think I'll name him.. Cooper."
"Huh, that's cute. We'll keep it." She said.
And then I was back in my room, just sitting on the floor with a doll. I just sat there for a while, speechless. Then I stood up, set it on the windowsill next to my dresser, and left the room.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Dad asked.
"Not exactly." I muttered.
"Well, what'd you find?"
"Nothin' much. Just some old books and school pictures." I said, and I went on with the rest of my day, trying to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
When truthfully, everything was beginning to change.
I woke up the next morning and the air smelt different. Not bad different, or good different, just different. Different like when you just walk into your own house after going on a 2-week long trip where you are surrounded with the smell of hotels and foreign air. Do you know what I mean? I don't know how else to describe it. Anyways, so I sat up in my bed and slid my feet off the side. Walking on the tiles of my bathroom was cold. Picking out my outfit was a struggle. Looking in the mirror was like watching a horror movie, featuring bed-head and fresh acne. I went down stairs and ate some toast that I made for myself.
Yep, I made it. With my bare hands. Since mom died, me and dad have done all the cooking. It’s pretty impressive, how much I’ve learned from the cookbooks.
After I was ready for school, I realized something and I started to panic. What if dad came into my room while I was at school and he found my doll? I quickly stood up and grabbed the doll and-
There I was, stuffing random clothes into a small pink backpack. As I was doing this, I stopped to notice how small my hands were, then my feet. Maybe half as small now, and it was eerie. I grabbed my backpack and swung it onto my back, and ran out the front door. Thoughts were coming into my head that I couldn't stop. Immature, crazy plans. This was me at 7 years old. I'm running away. And to my horror, I'm slowly starting to recall how this day went, and let's just say I do not want to relive it.
I ran down the street past the gas station, (farther than I’d ever been, and was even allowed to go at the time.) and toward the docks at the beach. Once I was pretty close to the beach, I got tired and sat down on a bench. I was sitting there for a couple minutes, waiting until the heavy breathing stopped, when this middle-aged guy with a scruffy beard came up and sat by me.
“Hey, girl. What are you doing down here all by yourself today?” He asked.
“Just taking a walk.” I said. The me now would want to run away as fast as I could from that dude. The younger me must’ve been worried he would call the police on me.
“You look tired. Would you like a root-beer?” His voice was coarse.
Don’t take it Abigail. Don’t take it.
“Sure!” I grabbed the small jar from his hand like it was a million bucks. Must’ve forgot to bring one of the water bottles from the fridge. I gulped it down in a couple seconds. A couple moments after that, I blacked out.
When I woke up, I was in a tall building. I knew this because I looked out the window, and the ground was far away. I turned around to find the door and the man walked in swiftly. His words slurred. “Well aren’t yeww awake… nicelyyy on time, perrty thanng…”
“Where am I?” My voice was small and frightened.
“Where are you? Well you’re… uhhh.. beeeauuutiful. I’ll be riiiight back. Now don’t chu’ move from thereee..” He said and walked out, dizzily.
I walked over to the door and peered out through the crack. I saw blurred motions of him walking back and forth, looking for something. Then he went out of sight.
The walls were a dull grey color with steel pipes along the edges. The whole building smelt very distinctly of something that my “younger self” would not recognize, but after years of high school, I definitely could.
Something that sounded like glass shattering on the cement in the other room. Then I heard muffled yelling.
“Get out… no- donnnn’t take that. THAT DON’T BELONGGG TO YOUUU. NO, SIR-EEE.”
And then, another guy comes running in. I felt like I recognized him from somewhere. He ran over to me and scooped me up into his arms, and ran out of the place. Down the stairs, down a corridor, and out of what was probably the front door. (The whole time with a staggering oompa-loompa behind him, yelling and cursing.)
He threw me into the back of his car and slammed the door. It smelled like leather and cleaner. It smelled really good in there.
“Do you have any idea what he was going to do to you Abigail?”
I shook my head. How’d he know my name?
“Where do you live? I’m taking you home, now.”
Thank goodness. After all of this, I don’t care if I’m punished for running away. I’ll be glad that I’m home.
“I live off of Ocean boulevard, 1217-“
I look down and the doll is staring at me from my backpack. My hands are normal-sized again. I zip up my backpack and head out the door where my ride was waiting, as if I’d never left.
"C'mon! We'll be late!" Dad shouted from the car. I hopped in the passenger seat and he backed out of the driveway. I stared out my window as the house got smaller and smaller. The clouds moved along with us and the trees whirred past us.
"You're quiet today. What's on your mind?" He asked.
"What is there to say?" I was getting annoyed, and he could tell there was something bothering me. The rest of the car ride was silent.
We passed the glorious graveyard and arrived at the crowded parking lot.
"Can I drop you off here?" He asked, stopping at the bottom of the hill. I don't blame him for not being in the mood for teenage road-rage and almost dying from a heart attack when a brainless fool runs in front of the SUV.
I sighed. "Sure. See ya." I slammed the car door and trudged up the hill and into the side door nearest to my locker.
"Hey! What are you doing this weekend?" Sam had been standing my locker waiting for me, like she does everyday.
"I dunno. You can come over if you want. I'm not doing anything." I lied. My dad asked if I'd help the lady across the street move.
"Awesome! I'll be over afterschool. I just gotta do a couple things, then I'll be there."
"Sounds great. Hey, let's get to Mr. Parrish's class. If we're late again, he'll kill us!"
"Yeah, yeah. Wanna go get a snack?" She always does this, and I tell ya, I can't resist the chips.
I looked down at my watch, which was set exactly to the school's time. We had about a minute and thirty seconds. "Alright, but we'll have to hurry!" I pushed her and we ran (fast walked) down the stairs.
"Fifty seconds!" I yelled at she grabbed the bags from the machine.
The bell rang and we swung the door open, holding the chips in our hand.
It was a long day.
When I got home, I decided to clean up a bit before Sam got there. I peered into my backpack at the doll that always stared back. Maybe if I carried it by one of it's hands-
"Mom you'll be okay, right?" My 9-year-old hands were intertwined with my weak mother's hands as she laid in the hospital bed. It smelt weird in there.
"Of course, honey. I'll always be here to take care of you Abby. Always." The blood had drained from her face and her skin was pasty white. I didn't understand, and mom didn't want me too.
"Come on Abigail, she needs her rest." I looked up at dad. His eyes were watery with dark purple circles underneath.He looked worried and it made me scared. "Come on." He patted my back and we went behind the curtain.
I opened my eyes slowly, hoping it was over. A tear slid down my cheek and I looked down at the horrid doll. I grabbed it with my sleeve and threw it into my closet. Then I realized Sam would be here any minute, so I went to clean up my blotchy face.
"Hey, Sam. How was your day?" I asked.
“Good, I guess. What about- Oooh! This is a pretty doll!" She reached down to pick it up and as soon as she did, she flew back onto the carpet, landing with a scream. Then she went still as a rock, eyes wide open.
"Sam! Do you hear me?" I yelled at her motionless face on the ground. She didn't make a sound.
I sat there in front of her for what was a couple minutes, waiting eagerly. The memories don't last very long in real time, so she should wake anytime, depending on how long the memory is. Not much time had passed even after I relived a memory that lasted half a day, so this couldn't take long. I watched impatiently, and it was like she was in a coma.
Suddenly she screamed, loud. It sounded like she was in pain, but there wasn't anything I could do to help her. I started to panic. I had no idea how powerful the doll was. It was all my fault.
"Help! Help us.. I think my arm is broken. Our car.. it just lost control! Help us please! come fast!" She yelled.
I wondered If there was anything to stop it. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a sharp knife, sharp enough to kill the thing, (if it's even alive.) I ran back into my room and sat down next to her, when she began gasping for air.
She looked right at me, wide-eyed. "What the heck.. was that? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT DOLL ABIGAIL! WHAT-"
"Come on Sam, we need to go now." I figured for a doll this powerful, it needed to be destroyed. Now.
I kicked the doll into my bag, (being careful not to touch it,) and ran out of the house.
"Come on, Sam. You're driving!" I yelled.
"Where are we going?" She asked.
"To the beach! Come on!" I was desperate.
We got to the beach and got out of the car at full speed. I ran to the edge of the dock and pulled the bag off my back. I unzipped it and looked at the doll. "Goodbye." And I turned the bag upside-down. The doll plopped into the deep water, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness. We stood there at the edge of the dock, watching it sink until we could see it no more. I clapped my hands and look up.
Poor Sam looked traumatized. What a day.
She dropped me off at my house, and didn't get back out.
"I think I'm gonna go home, Abigail. I'm exhausted." She muttered.
I wouldn't blame her. She just went through a car crash and experienced a magical doll. "Alright. Drive home safe." I said. I waved to her and went inside. I sighed and went upstairs.
But then I froze.
There it was again. That soft, graceful lullaby.
Crazy, interesting, spooky, creepy, thought-provoking.
ReplyDelete