Chapter 1: Demented Dreams: A Collection of Recollections

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 282

Demented Dreams
A Collection of Short Stories Based on Actual Dream Sequences

By Jessica Green

Warning to Readers:
If you are easily frightened of the mentally disturbed, graphic sequences of violence or hold any of the fears listed within the list below, I suggest you do not read this novel. It is inspired by actual fears, actual nightmares, but it itself is not an actual experience. It is a mostly fictitious interpretation of events experienced by me in dream sequences. The fears in this book include:
Fear of being alone in a solid white room, being chased, being pierced with a medical needle, demons, dolls, doctors, asylums, medical procedures, blood, gore, ghosts or apparitions, Hell, and the dark.
If you are deeply afraid of any of these things, avoid reading this book. It may induce the same nightmares I continue to experience. You have been warned, read at your own risk.
I Hope You Enjoy Demented Dreams.

Labyrinthine Terrors
Chapter 1

I’m panicking.
I’m losing my mind, and I’m pretty close to dying.
I’m unable to breathe.
I’ve always been running from what they cannot see, what they cannot hear, and what they cannot feel. With every door I run by in this place, every awful creature I pass by, I become even more frightened….but I can‘t scream. He is following me, I feel it…I know he is following me and he‘s close behind. He wants to hurt me again this time. He’s too smart to hurt me out in the open…He‘ll corner me like he did before.
He was close last time, so very, very close…I can still feel that needle slipping in my skin…
No one else will believe me. I am trapped in a place that I have never seen before except in a dream, maybe. However, what is all this that I am seeing? It is all very real, but it is also not real. It makes sense, but it also doesn‘t make sense. What they cannot see, I can. What they cannot touch, I can. I have to get out before he finds me, but I also have to avoid killing myself in the process. Right now I’m in pretty deep waters, much more literally than you might think. However let me start at the beginning, before I entered The Maze Dimension.

My name is J. There’s nothing else, just J. I have no parents, just a big sister and brother who both lived with me before I came here; now I‘m alone. I’m 14 years old. When I was 11, I was taken to the doctors because they told me I was acting weird. They never told me what the big words meant, but suddenly I was in a very scary looking place I‘ll call the White Room. It was creepy, but it scared out whatever weird things were going on in my head…at least for a little while. They did say it had something to do with my brain, by the way. I can’t remember what they really said about it, but I didn’t care either. I got out of there.
My mom and dad were alive at the time and they paid a lot of money to make them release me. I was so happy to see them again. We checked out at the doctor’s office and left in the little SUV that Mom bought, and gave me balloons and candy telling me that she didn’t believe there was anything wrong with me. That made me happy.
The next few moments have always been foggy, and I can’t remember anything but the sounds. It was dark, too, and that didn’t help. All I heard was Mommy and Daddy telling me to get down, get down, the screeching of tires, the creaking and crunching of metal, and my mom and dad’s screams. Those screams I’ll always remember. I ended up having to call 911, and they came only to tell me my mom and dad were dead. That day is what I call “the accident” because they kept calling it a motor accident, and because the driver didn’t mean to hurt my mom and dad.
He even drove me back home to my brother and sister, who were trying their best not to cry but to comfort me. It never did hit me fully, what happened that night. It still doesn’t, really. Mom and Dad had no enemies; everybody liked them. I knew that. I even met most of their friends! Who would do something so bad to them and then just say, “I’m sorry”?
It made me so mad that I started cutting things. The wallpaper, the heads off dolls and teddy bears, even myself. Brother and Sister never saw, I made a good point of hiding the knife and my cuts. They never suspected it, because they were just like Mom and Dad. They didn’t believe there was anything wrong.
The next week or so, I started going back to the school my parents had withdrawn me from. I would sneak out during the school day just to be with my brother and sister. I didn’t, and still don’t, like being alone. I hated it because I kept seeing ugly, scary things in my room and the rest of the house. Blood, weird looking creatures…it was terrifying so I always ran to them. I never told them, though, because I knew they’d send me back to the awful White Room. That thought alone scared me more than the terrifying things I saw. I’d hide in the library, and I’d read and write. I’d even draw sometimes, but not often. My drawings made everyone go white in the face and start walking away. I thought they were masterpieces, but everyone else told me I was sick. I’d feel my forehead and say, “I’m fine” just to prove I wasn’t. Now I’m regretting doing that, because a few weeks later is when I discovered something bad was going on.
I liked to read, right? I’d read anything I could get my hands on. Well, about three weeks from the Accident, I picked up a newspaper that had the headline “Kidnapped Asylum Patient Still At Large: Highly Dangerous”. I read some more, scared that this bad person might come and find me. What made me mad, mad to the point of getting into the mess I’m currently in, was the first paragraph:

“Janie Marie Geraldine was immediately placed in the hospital after tests revealing that she is a paranoid schizophrenic, has violent tendencies, and is prone to hallucinations of the auditory and visual form. She held her doctors at knifepoint demanding her release, escaping from her room and drove away in silver SUV. After killing her parents by lacerations to the jugular vein with a kitchen knife, she ran from authorities and is taking refuge somewhere in the city. She is highly dangerous and armed. If you have any information on this case, please call…”

I crumpled up the page after that. I didn’t dare read the number. First of all, they were lying. My parents had picked me up, how could and why would I kill them? It was a car crash…Every bit of it didn’t make sense at all. This happened nearly three weeks ago…why did they care so much now? I picked up my coat and sketchpad, walking nearly five miles to the school as I did nearly every day.
The first thing I noticed was there were policemen covering nearly every inch of the front of the school, handing pictures of me out asking random kids if they knew who I was. Most would shake their head, but the ones I knew would nod. They’d ask when the last time any of them had seen me was, and they’d shrug. “She’s been gone a long time,” one of them said.
Darn right, I had been.
I wasn’t about to let them find me now. I snuck to the back entrance of the library, smiling to find it unlocked. I crept inside the old door and wandered my way through to the isle that peeked into the main room, and I was even more surprised to find there was not a police officer asking anyone questions.
I quickly ran inside, hiding under the table before anyone had a chance to see me. Still, the noise I’d made had triggered some stirring in the silence. “Who’s there?” I could hear, as well as footsteps. It relieved me to find the librarian was there, she always liked me very much. She crouched down and I prepared to spring, to hide again. It was clear I’d have to run all the time now, with all of this going on. She smiled at me when she lifted the tablecloth and motioned for me to come out, so I did. There were a few gasps and a couple murmurs about “it’s the crazy,” and such things, but otherwise no general screaming or running for lives. That made me relax. She took me to the second isle so we could talk.
“What’s going on, J? Are you the patient they keep talking about in the newspapers?” The woman asked; her name was Mrs. Haley.
“Yeah, but I don’t understand all the big words they’re saying about me. Why are they looking for me, what did I do?” The words came out in a rushed whisper, and I was starting to cry.
Just before she could answer, there was a small orange glow in the isle next to us; it was the third isle. I heard screams of “Fire!” and running footsteps. The fire alarm went off, but the old librarian stayed put. She started to grin, and that made me uneasy all over again. When she made a grab for me, her arms turned into awful stick-like gooey things covered in scales, her fingers like claws reaching to tear at my skin. I ran, and with every step, the floor started to change. The isles became confusing, unfamiliar paths that I did not know how to navigate, and the once-carpet flooring that I loved so much turned into hard stone tiles that were an ugly blood color. Silver grooves in the flooring burst into flames at some of the corners, making me scream as I kept running and running, praying I’d make it out alive.
When I got to the fifth isle, I was face to face with a person with no face, and covered in flames. It was a woman’s body, but she had no hands or feet. She glided along the silver grooves, but she did not hurt me. Instead, I heard follow and she turned her back on me to go into the next isle. I did not have time to lose, as flames were engulfing the books around me, and I ran after the creature. She led me from isle to isle, burning everything that came in her way. Was she the thing that started the fire? I kept that question in mind when we got to the very last isle, which did not look like the last isle at all. It just went on and on, confusing me even more and frustrating the hound out of me. When did all this get so weird?  She said up, and before I knew it, she was carrying me! I screamed and flailed like I was being burnt…but that’s just it. I wasn’t being burned at all. It was a cool, almost chilly feeling, and in the blink of an eye, we were at the end of the isle facing a very odd contraption. It was like a table, but it had buttons on it, and a lot of lights. Press them, she hissed in a hurried tone. Bad man following.
Bad man following was the sentence I’d very much liked not to hear.
I looked behind me, and there he was. The creepy, smiling doctor that was there to give me pills every day while I was in the White Room. I hated those pills. They always made me sleepy. He was not smiling at this moment in time, and looked very angry. Even worse was he looked scarier than usual. His white coat was now grey and white, from ashes probably, and his hair was singed. He was screaming, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying. I didn’t care. I quickly pressed the first button, then the next, and a little panel opened on the table-contraption-thing. It read ‘NEEDLE‘ in big red lettering. I didn’t understand. Where was I going to get a needle? I looked at the fire-girl creature, which was already halfway down the aisle attacking the doctor. Just as he was starting to win, the creature split into two! Two fire people were attacking him now, and he was starting to back off. The second one took something small and long out of his coat pocket, gliding back to me to place it in my hands. It was a syringe with a needle attached, a gold-tinged liquid up to 50 milliliters inside. I knew what that stuff was, but I didn’t want to think about that right now. I stuck the needle into the very small hole right under the red letters, and the wall beside me started to glow a little underneath the bookcase. A bright light streamed into what looked like a doorframe, and a knob appeared. I looked at the fire creature, who shrieked go!
I didn’t hesitate.
I found a lock on the other side when I got through the door, just in time to see the doctor was close behind and to see the flame people disappear. I was sad to see them go, and said goodbye to them just before I locked the door. Then I ran again.
I looked around, and it was strangely similar to being in a hospital the way the hall was painted. It was a creepy dingy white, more like an ugly light yellow. No one was around, and I didn’t see anything until I got farther past some of the curves and turns. There were a couple doors, one marked CIA and the other simply blank, but locked to my dismay. I didn’t dare go into the CIA marked one, because I knew those were bad people. Mom and Dad, even big brother and sister told me they were. That they didn’t like us. I kept running and I finally saw a big open door, like you’d see in a cafeteria. I sprinted inside, hearing a door bust open a long ways away from where I was. He’d unlocked the damn door! But how?
There was a man sitting at a desk in the gigantic room that I’d entered, and I ran to him, getting on my knees with my best begging effort. “Please, sir, you have to help me! Someone’s following me and I need help getting out of here!”
“Miss, the assistance desk is in the front,” was all the man droned, going back to his computer work.
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I’M GOING TO BE KILLED IF HE FINDS ME HERE!” I screamed at him, getting in his face, my face already wet and red from crying in panic.
“Miss, the assistance desk is in the front. I can’t help you,” the man droned again, still typing away. I could hear footsteps, and decided I wouldn’t waste my time with the man. But just as I started running, I saw the back of the man’s head. Gears were turning, and there was no brain. He was a robot? He was a freaking robot! I laughed in anger and panic as I sprinted out of the big room. As I exited that area and entered the next, I found myself very much confused again. I slammed the big doors behind me, which were very heavy, and barricaded them closed with a bunch of metal poles that were about three inches thick. Where I found them was not a concern now, but I didn’t forget the question. Something just really wasn’t right about this.
It looked like a grocery store. No, it wasn’t really like that. More like a Sears or a Wal-Mart. It had to be a big one at that. Then again, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen.
Tall, towering shelves that looked like skyscrapers the more I stared at them shot all the way into the ceiling, which was, weirdly enough, covered in a purple hazy fog. It was like clouds, but denser. I even thought I saw birds fly around in there.
Extremely tall stick figures that resembled trees without leaves were putting things into these shelves, giant boxes filled with goodness-knows-what. I giggled at the sight of one of the stick people having trouble stacking the box onto another one because it was too tall. When I turned back around to look ahead of me, one of them was staring right into my face. I screamed and fell over, making the tall thing smile and reach out to help me up. I took its hand, stumbling back onto my feet. 
Welcome, it said, a faraway echo-like tone in its voice. It sounded like a young boy, but an old man at the same time. I waved, unable to catch my breath enough to speak. The thing handed me a glass of water, and I smiled, taking a sip.
“Thanks,” I managed to croak and it nodded at me, taking my hand again to lead me away from the door. I could hear footsteps again, and I knew it was that crazy doctor. I think the thing felt me starting to panic, because it had one of the other stick-people weld the door shut. That made me incredibly happy and I thanked them both at least a hundred times. They nodded, like they couldn’t talk, but I knew they could. When they did talk, it was like they were in my ears. Or my brain, whatever. I liked it. They calmed me down a lot, and I usually don’t like people that much. Then again, they weren’t really people.
They told me they were simply called Tree-its, because of their stick-like appearance, and that they were the keepers of items found in The Maze Dimension.
“What’s the Maze Dimension?” I asked, sitting down in a rather plush velvet chair while one of them sat across from me.
The Maze Dimension is the world you’ve found yourself in, the creature told me, and I nodded in understanding. At least now, I knew where I was. That much cleared up. Still, I had to ask, “How did I get here?”
That we don’t know. It isn’t often that a human like yourself crosses paths with us. Most of them think it’s a dream, but it’s the farthest thing from the truth. You seem to realize it is real, so maybe…just maybe, you can help us. The figure looked uneasy, even worried. It placed one of its “hands” on mine, as if comforting me. The hand felt like tree bark, with a rough surface that scratched my skin a little.
“Help you with what?” I asked, intrigued and inspired by an adventure. Maybe this was going to be more fun than I thought.
We need to find the key.
“What key?”
The key to the door you came in from. We can’t risk any more humans coming here, or we’ll fade to nothing.
This made me upset. Not only could I not come back after all this was over, but they would disappear if I did. I felt terrible all of a sudden, like I’d done the worst thing in the world.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to say, and the creature smiled softly.
You were chosen to come here. Don’t underestimate yourself, and you’ll find the Key and your way back home. You’re a lot stronger than you think. Come, I have something that will help you in your journey.
I nodded and it led me to a long hallway, reaching up to the highest shelf on one of the skyscraper bookshelf-things. It withdrew a small bag, about the size of a pea in the thing’s hand, but the right size and weight for me to carry without any trouble.
You’ll find use for all of this, it told me as it led me away from the shelf and to another door. We’ll be here when you need us, always.
It unlocked the door with a peculiar looking key. The part of it that unlocked the door was shaped like a broken heart with a keyhole inside itself. I was just about to ask what it meant before the Tree-it pushed me gently through the opening and shut the door behind me, leaving me in a very odd-looking hallway. No pictures were on the walls, only warping voids that seemed in constant, sickening motion. It was like waves in the sea when you’re on a boat, and you just happen to be sea sick. There were also a bunch of doors. The first door was marked ’Fear’, and what caught my eye was all the doors were marked in gilded lettering. The next one read ‘Anger‘, and the next ‘Paranoia’, and the others too far away to be legible.
The other doors followed suit; there had to be at least a million of them. Was this my mind? I thought about that for a second before remembering there was nothing wrong with me. I chuckled uneasily for a second before making my way toward the first door.
Chapter 2

I turned the handle slowly until I heard the door click and open, pushing my way inside. I shut the door behind me, and my eyes were closed so I wouldn’t have to immediately face what was coming. When I did open them, I was shocked. There was absolutely nothing in that room. You couldn’t even call it a room!
It was a playground. My old elementary playground sat right in front of me, but I knew that it had been torn down years ago. This didn’t make any sense! Still, I was overjoyed and ran to the swings where I’d always played. After situating myself in the first swing I saw, I took off with the tops of my feet digging into the gravel and started to swing back and forth. It was fun for a while, and I swung higher and higher.
Soon, I was starting to worry because I wasn’t coming back down as fast as I was. Even scarier it became when the doctor was about a football field’s length away. I wasn’t worried at the moment, because everything was moving in slow motion. Even the swing was having trouble getting back down to its natural state of stillness. I made for a jump, leaping out of my swing, and nearly screamed when I felt the thickness of the air in front of me. It was light the air, the atmosphere was turning into thick paint. I couldn’t get down, but that meant he couldn’t reach me either. Still, this free-floating crap was freaking me out. I flailed a little, and my body was seemingly in real-time still, with everything else moving slowly around me.
The doctor was starting to freak out too, by the looks of it, because he had a bewildered look on his face and I could hear a deep, slow, “Help” coming from his mouth. It was hilarious watching him try to talk, because his mouth kept gyrating so slow the words were coming out warped. It was like watching an Asian subtitled movie. His slow motion steps were inching closer by every five-minute mark, and every time I thought he was going to get close enough to catch me I would inch down to the ground. About what seemed like an eternity later, the speed of time started to pick up a little. That scared me even more, because now he could get closer faster. I was panicking again, and my breathing was so fast I was having trouble not hyperventilating. Finally, my feet hit the gravel and I literally “hit the ground running.” I sprinted through the playground and reached what looked like an old schoolhouse, the little red brick kind.
It was cute, but the cuteness did not register until after I shut and locked its door behind me. I heard squeaking, and my mind conjured the thought of rats skittering across the floor. I shrieked when a big, red eyed rodent peeked out from a gnawed hole in the wall and clambered on top of a desk.
“Hey! Do you think that’s some kind of a sick joke?” The rat squeaked at me in irritation, making me stare at it mouth agape.
“Y-You’re kidding right?” I managed to squeak myself, although it was a deeper toned squeak than that of the rat. Here I was, thinking I’d seen everything in this sick little world. Boy, I was wrong.
The only thing worse than a rat was a talking one.
“Of course I can talk! I’m not a rat, either, so you can quit your whining!” It squeaked again, and just as it said that the form started to change. What now, I thought for a second then it was my turn to squeak again. In front of me stood a very tall man. He was a human man, just to be clear.
“Oh come on, what are you staring at now?” He said, rubbing a hand over his head and pulling back his waist length hair. “You scared of your own kind or something?”
“You are so not my own kind. You were a rat,” I spat back at him.
“I’m a Shifter. You’ve never seen a Shifter?” He mused in a bored tone, his voice deepening a bit more than usual.
“Uh, no. I’ve never even been here before.”
“Ah. So you’re the new guy, huh? Welcome to the First Door. You just had your wits scared out of you by a rat? Trust me, there’s worse to come.”
No kidding, I thought, remembering the crazy doctor was still after me. That made me shriek again.
“Jeez, what now?” He groaned, plugging his ears.
“I just remembered we aren’t the only ones here,” I groaned back, pointing at the door just before that creep started whacking on it. I saw the glint of something silver through the wood, and the man’s face in front of me turned pale.
“We’ve got to get out of here. Now,” He whispered, quickly grabbing my hand and leading me to the end of the schoolhouse. There was a trap door in the wall, he explained, that would lead to the rest of the realm. He also told me that the realm appeared different to everyone, starting with the happiest memories in a person’s life and graduating into the worst. That part made me shudder, but as the thudding and crushing sounds of wood being split with an axe grew louder I had to dismiss the thought. He opened the trap door and shoved me inside. “I can’t go with you,” he explained. “It isn’t my place. These are your battles. Take care, J.”
Before I could ask how he knew my name, the door along with his heavenly face had disappeared. In front of me was darkness, a reddened sky with grey clouds and dead trees all around me. It was the playground still, but a twisted, apocalyptic version of it. The swings were broken, the slides warped and the merry-go-round was burnt to a crisp and falling apart. The slight, warm breeze made the trees whistle ominously and sway so close to the ground I thought one of them was going to end up slapping me in the face. I wandered through the creepy place of childhood nightmares, my trusty bag at my side full of stuff I still hadn’t looked at, and soon found myself in a forest-like setting. The trees were dense and it was foggy, not the same purple haze that was in the Tree-its’ place but a grey colored, heavy fog. The density of it made me cough; there was mostly no moisture in it at all. I heard what sounded like whispers as I walked closer to the clearing in the forest, and even rustling in the trees and shrubs around me. I thought I heard footsteps, and by the time I reached the small amount of light that was the clearing my heart was racing faster than a competitor’s at the Daytona 500. I stepped out into the grass, finally away from all the trees, but my heart nearly stopped at what was in front of me.
“Mommy! Don’t let them keep me here! I’m scared, Mommy!” I could hear myself screaming in my 11 year old girly tone of voice. The fear that I felt in my heart struck me again as I faced the White Room. It was complete with dolls, all beheaded and mutilated, some even missing eyes. There was my old teddy bears, torn apart and spilling stuffing and…blood?
Then I saw what scared me the most: I saw a little girl, about my age, in a torn and stained hospital gown. There was a makeshift knife at her side, which was really a toothbrush with the bristles cut out and a razor blade wedged into the plastic. It, like her and the rest of the disturbing room, was covered in blood. The girl’s hair was black…the same color as mine. Still, she looked so much like Mom….was this my mom as a little girl? I approached her, but jumped back when I heard a snake like hissing. A freaking anaconda started slithering out from underneath the white metal bed and hissing at me! I didn’t scream, but simply held my breath. Deep breaths always calmed me down when I knew I was about to have what I called an attack. Whenever I had an attack, freaky things would start to happen. I’d hurt things without remembering it. Right now, it seemed like both a good and bad idea. I wanted to kill the snake, but I didn’t want to hurt the girl, who was now rocking back and forth. I reached into the bag the Tree-it had given me and pulled out a butcher knife…a honking big one. I nearly doubled over from the weight of the thing. Kill it! I could hear someone screaming, and right about then I swear the snake heard it too because it lunged at me. I swung the knife, heard the hiss of the blade slicing through the air, the final hiss of the snake, before I opened my eyes and only its body was standing before me. The head was on the floor, tongue flailing, and the snake body was growing bigger. I backed away, knowing something funky was up.
Before my eyes, the head re-grew itself and stared angrily back at me. Arms and legs grew on its sides next, then gigantic bat-like wings. I was facing a dragon! I was facing a very big, very scary dragon, and it looked very hungry. I dug through the bag again, hoping and praying it had something that would kill a dragon or at least fend off the fire I just knew it breathed, only to dig out a metal shield. I shrugged, figuring ironically that this was going to be some sort of sick medieval cage match. The girl beside the bed was still rocking away, oblivious to the dragon’s appearance. It was then I remembered something; I’d never been scared of dragons. Maybe this was my mother’s mind? Maybe it was her fears I had to face? I shook that thought away and jumped to the side just as I saw the dragon’s sharp, deadly teeth reaching to take a giant, human-engulfing bite out of me like I was a midnight snack. I tried whacking its nose with the shield, making the dragon temporarily wrinkle his nose and appear confused, only to shake its head and roar at me with the force of a hurricane wind…not that I’d ever felt one of course, but I figured that’s how strong it would have been. I felt my back slam into the wall, the sickening crack of my skull against the concrete, and for a second I thought I’d broken something. The dragon swung at me with its tail, and I relied once again on my butcher knife. As I tried to lift it to swing, I realized it was heavier. I tugged upward with all of my strength and screamed at the creature, my eyes closed so I could avoid what gore may come.
I heard the thud of something hit the ground and opened my eyes. I saw the dragon’s tail, now nothing but a butt-stump, wiggling and writhing on the ground while the stump I’d left on its body squirted blood. “Gross!” I managed to say in surprise, the statement being replied with a growl and a whine from the wounded behemoth in front of me. As it turned, its chest faced me and I saw my chance. With another heave of the very heavy blade in my hand, I sliced through the creature’s throat. I heard a gurgling noise, then a giant thud as the dragon hit the ground. I looked at the arm wielding my butcher knife, and turns out it had transformed into a sword. It was no freaking wonder it was so heavy! I was just wondering how I was going to get it back into the bag when it started to shrink, turning back into the little knife I’d had. I shrugged, figuring anything goes in this world, and dropped it into the satchel it came from. I walked over to the dragon, which was shrinking as well, returning to its own snake form.
I managed a freaked out laugh and walked past it to check on the girl that reminded me so much of my own mother. She had stopped rocking, and was covered in fresh snake/dragon blood. This time, she looked up at me. I jumped at first, merely due to her appearance. She was pale, and her face was cracking and falling apart like a porcelain mask. The holes in the mask yielded a heady blackness, no facial features. It was just utter darkness like those odd contacts my brother wore to look scary for Halloween. Even the eye holes were steadily ebony, and it really made me uneasy the way she “looked” at me. She leaned over, like a marionette whose strings were not being pulled, and grasped a tight grip on her makeshift knife. Before I could figure out what was going on she was swinging at me, and she even managed to get me in a couple places. Blood streamed down my arms and legs, making me wince from the familiar sting.
“I was trying to help you!” I managed to get out of my mouth before she swung at me again, aiming for my neck. I remembered the article from the newspaper. ‘….lacerations to the jugular vein.’ I knew what a laceration was.
She was trying to cut my throat!
“Hold up! Just…stop for a second!” I screamed at her, digging in my bag for my blade again. I felt something and immediately gripped it, yanking it out of the bag. It was a makeshift knife just like hers, only my name was carved into it. My handwriting. I didn’t have time to wonder why it felt so familiar to see it. Just as she swung at me again, I grabbed her arm and twisted hard, making the skin in the appendage break and the bone stick out of the muscle. The girl screamed in agony, but I didn’t let go. I felt a frighteningly familiar rage run through me. I could feel myself swinging, screaming, hitting…then I came to my senses. The doll-girl was dead in front of me, glass eyes staring at me with their blue haziness. The arms were torn off and oozing blood everywhere, the legs broken and bent in different directions. Her head was severed.
It was like cutting up my old dolls all over again…the more I looked at her, the more doll-like she became. A hair bow appeared daintily in her bloody hair, and rosy cheeks formed on her face. Her lips were as pink as her cheeks, and her hands became small and her fingers slimmed down from their chubby state. Her actual body shrank, not to my surprise at all, and before me sat my favorite doll, the only one I’d not cut up and mutilated. Hot tears sprang to my eyes, and I gingerly picked up the doll to cradle it to my chest. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry,” I kept pleading, tears dampening my face and soaking the doll’s. I smoothed her hair and reached in my bag for a bandage, tape, cloth, anything…and came out with a sewing kit. Small, but it would do. I set to work, humming to myself an old nursery rhyme while I reattached the arms to my doll. All the memories I remembered having with the toy were fresh in my mind now. The day I got it, which was on my birthday, was the best day of my life. I had received it from my mom…my precious mother.
The mother I now didn’t have, the mother I had lost to that stupid driver. The mother the paper said I had killed. I got angry all over again and stopped sewing, but I simply rubbed the doll’s cheek like a mother would a grieving child. “It’ll be okay,” I mumbled. “I’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here, and we’ll be home.” I kept humming ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ and started sewing again, every fine stitch comforting me like a hug. It seemed like hours before I stopped again, admiring my work. I’d reattached the limbs and head, and had even finished hemming the dress I’d started on her so many years ago before I was taken to this same sickeningly white room. I tore some cloth from my own dress, a floor length white gown, and made a kind of backpack out of her. I adjusted her onto my back and opened the door again, finding it to have become a brick wall. My new problem, I figured, was to find the way out of here. I looked to my left, where the door I’d come in from was, and then to my right. I saw the rest of the room, which contained the mutilated dolls and bears, a bed, and a TV turned on a channel that gave nothing but weaving white noise.
I had a weird feeling about it, so I walked toward the small table with the ‘70’s style television. It had a dial knob for channel surfing, and no remote. I flicked the knob once, giving only white noise. Another turn: still white noise. I was getting frustrated at this point. One more time, I heard the voice of the Tree-it say in my head. Trust me. I shrugged and figured what the heck, flicking the dial once more. The screen went black, then flickered, then I saw the image of the hallway I’d entered the door to the Fear Realm in. I touched the screen, and it felt hard. Well, I thought, so much for going through the TV. As I was turning around, I felt that weird slow motion feeling again in the air. I felt warping and twisting in the floor, and a hole started to form. A small amount of suction was coming in from the void below, and I could feel myself being sucked down into it. I closed my eyes and didn’t fight it, praying it would take me back home.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in the hallway again, facing the many doors that were on either side of the narrow path. The eerie shades of purple, black and grey swimming across the walls was delightfully making me sick to my stomach. I was back. I didn’t have to face any more giant snake-dragon-shifting things, no creepy girls that turned out to be precious keepsakes. I could go through any of these doors and be back home. The downside was I didn’t have a clue which door led back home. I looked in front of me, having noticed something moving other than the warping walls. A shadow stood in front of me, taking on no true shape or form. I was a little confused, because I’d thought I had defeated all the creatures this crazy place had to offer. When it started to change and take on a form, I was even more confused. A tall, thin woman stood in front of me now, hair moving as slowly as the walls were warping. She smiled, and thin but sharp fangs glinted in her devilish grin. This had me hitting my forehead with the palm of my hand.
“Really? A vampire? We couldn’t get more original here?” I groaned, and the tall lady laughed, a dark and disturbing sound that had me shaking in my bones. Jeez, for a vampire, she was creepy. Twilight fans would be scared pant-less if they heard that.
“If you’re thinking the average vampire, you’re very mistaken,” she said in a grim tone of voice that sounded like a destroyed and out of tune music box. In fact, the more she moved, the more she looked like a puppet on strings. Her movements were jerky and almost like clay-mation. I swear I even saw the sliver of a string on her wrist. “I am a Van-Doll,” she explained, confusing me completely.
“A vandal?” I asked, craning my head like I was trying to see past her.
“A Van-Doll,” she said again, laughing. “Combine Van Hellsing with a puppet doll, and you’ve got a Van-Doll.”
I smacked my forehead again with my palm. It figured.
“So, you’re a vampire and a doll. Right?”
I received no verbal response, but a bored nod.
“Uh…alright then. So where am I?” I asked, finally getting out of my confusion long enough to remember.
“The Hall of The Hundred Doorways,” she said. “Each door leads to another realm, each of which you must defeat the challenge within. You’ve conquered Fear, correct? Now you will move on to Anger. Then Paranoia, so on and so forth until you reach the Final Door. Am I making sense?”
My face was pale, I think. I could feel all the blood and heat rushing out of my head. I felt dizzy. “I have to fight all of the freaking rooms?”
“Yes, in order to find what you’re looking for,” she said finally, smiling. “But you’ll need a companion.”
“And just where am I going to get that? There’s no one here but you, me, and the doll on my back.” I was getting impatient, and she could probably tell by my tone.
“That doll is precisely what you need. When you need someone to fight beside you, your companion will appear. They will not die, and they cannot be destroyed. You put love into bringing her from her disastrous state, so she is going to repay you.”
The last sentence lingered in the air as the Van-Doll disappeared, leaving me alone again. Well, not completely alone. So my doll was now a sort of fighting spirit? Okay, that I could handle. I looked behind me, not surprised to see that the first door I’d came through was still not there. The second door I’d just come out of was gone, as well. For a second, I thought I was seeing things; as I went to touch the now-empty void where the door had once been, I could feel no handle. It had melded with the wall and became part of it. I turned my attention to the second door, hoping to God it wouldn’t do the same before I had a chance to enter it. If the Van-Doll was right, I couldn’t get out of here without passing through each door and fighting each challenge within. I also had a feeling I had to learn the meaning of each door, and what impact it had on me. That kind of made sense, except there were so many doors I felt that it would take me forever. I started toward the door, which was on my right, and made my way toward it. If I’m going to fight, I thought, I might as well start here.
The door was tough, like something was barring it shut on the inside. I pushed with most of my strength, and it still didn’t seem to budge. I was confused again. If they wanted me to go through each door, why on earth was it not letting me in? I decided that the door was a challenge of its own, and dug into my bag for something useful. When I pulled out a lock pick, I smacked my forehead for at least the third time today. I couldn’t pick a lock to save my life! Still, I had to try. I stuck the pick into the small keyhole in the door, twisted it around a little, only to feel it break. I froze, certain I was going to scream in frustration. I slowly dug in my bag again, this time retrieving an axe. This was more like it. I lifted the axe over my head, and with a grunt of frustration and rage I slammed it against the door. To my great delight, the door split in the center with a loud crack! and the splintering of wood. I hacked at the door until I was able to crawl through the J-sized hole. Next monster, here I come.

Chapter 3

First of all, I did not scream like a girl when I first entered the Anger Realm. Second of all, no matter what you may have heard, I did not pee my pants, either. But I will tell you this much; You will not want to enter the Anger Realm alone.
The first step I took through the door had me falling, continuously falling. It was like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. My stomach was churning, and I kept screaming. I held on tightly to my bag and my doll, making sure they didn’t fall off me while I was going down. When I looked down, I saw an orange, furious fire burning below me. I shrieked, certain I was going to be burned alive. I could feel the heat and sting of the flames licking my feet, which are bare. It felt like a billion tiny needles being stuck into my heels. I closed my eyes tightly and waited for the flames to engulf me, only to feel hard ground strike my soles as I hit the ground. The fire was gone, and the first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was I was surrounded by red brick. I couldn’t tell if they were just red by nature, or painted red, or just covered in blood. Am I in hell? I kept asking myself as I walked deeper into the red brick tunnel. I felt something wet beneath my feet about halfway down, lifting my foot to see blood covering the bottom. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming, for it’s well known that I am terrified of the sight of blood.
I thought I wasn’t in the Fear Realm anymore, I groaned in my head as I made myself walk faster down the hall and into the opening at the end of the tunnel. I hated being alone through this.
There was a small room in front of me, kind of like a sitting room. An old fashioned couch and tea table were to my left peripheral, and the rest of the place was covered in books. Shelves and shelves of beloved books, my best friends. I smiled, the first smile since I’d entered this freakish dimension, and perused the shelves for something familiar. I hoped they had a copy of my favorite, ‘The Silver Kiss’ by Annette Curtis Klause, because it would make me feel like I was at home even if it lasted a little while. I heard footsteps coming close down the spiral staircase that had appeared behind me, making me tense and start digging through my bag for my knife, a gun, something to defend myself with. Then I stopped when the figure had fully descended.
“Mrs. Haley!” I shouted, grinning from ear to ear as I ran up to hug her. However, I stopped short when I heard a sharply screamed, “Get out!” A lethal, probably poisoned long claw poked out of her sleeve as she grew larger, scalier, and slimier. She looked like a giant lizard by the time she got done transforming. Her mouth was stitched back like the Chatterer from Hellraiser, and she looked like she’d been scalped by an Indian war chief. Blood oozed down her head and I could see her skull, except something shiny was sticking out of it. She didn’t have a tail, but she looked like a very tall, very ugly mutilated torture victim. Blades had been forcibly put into her fingers; they were makeshift claws, I guessed. Her skin wasn’t green like a lizard’s was, but an ugly, scaly pale beige. I knew this fighting-ugly-creatures-to-find-the-Key-thing was going to be hard, but why were they using bits and pieces of my memory to lure me in, then have them turn into these freaky things? I figured it was a mind trap. Still, off to the fighting we go, I thought to myself with meek humor as I reached in my bag. I drew out a small gun that looked like the kind you blew bubbles with.
You’ve got to be kidding.
Whatever works, I thought as I aimed for the creature’s belly. Sure enough, bright shiny bubbles that looked like rainbows lived inside them floated their way out. As they landed on the creature’s skin and popped, I heard it gasp and shriek in anger…and pain. Seriously? Bubbles are going to be the death of this thing? Still, it pleased me to see I’d done some damage. Still, there was a funky smell afterward. It smelled like…chemicals. Then it hit me.
Yes! I thought as I blasted more bubbles, tormenting the thing with skin-searing, muscle destroying goodness. The bubbles, it turned out, were made of acid, thus making the bubble gun a lethal weapon. Why it didn’t melt the plastic on the gun, I didn’t know, but such small questions were not the key concern. It didn’t take long at all for me to find a weak point in the monster, and I attacked it with all I could. The heart literally fell out of its chest, flopping to the floor with a sickening squish. Blood spattered everywhere, even managing to get on me. Again, yuck. The creature itself fell to the ground as well, bursting into flame. I did scream that time, having not expected the sudden inferno. When I managed to put out the fire with an extinguisher I found on the wall, I walked closer to the now-human appearing Mrs. Haley. I poked her shoulder, and sure enough it was her. Come to think of it, this realm looked a lot like her sitting room.
Oh…God, no.
I was alarmed then, and started shaking her by the shoulders. Her heart still flopped around on the floor, making me cringe with every beat. I shrieked in rage at myself. I realized fully what I’d done.
I’d killed Mrs. Haley.
I walked up the staircase in a daze, still trying to piece together what had just happened. First of all, I’d killed the one person that had been like a parent to me since the Accident. I remembered the first time I’d met her, the very first day of school. I was in Kindergarten back then, and she was a quite a bit younger looking. I remembered her soft-spoken personality, how she would always read books to me after I’d been to the office for getting in trouble. I kept thinking about all of this when I suddenly realized the staircase was still going. I’d been walking for Gosh-knows-how-long, and it was still going. I started to run, hoping I’d get to the end faster.
If I’d intended to fall on my face, my plan would have worked beautifully.
When I managed to peel my face off the floor, I realized I was in another lovely room. It was a child’s bedroom, I realized, and it sort of made me smile to see all the toys and the small crib. It was a bedroom made for a newborn boy, I think. I remembered the time when Mrs. Haley was gone from school for so long, and that mean librarian whose name I currently cannot remember substituted for her. I didn’t really know why she left, but it was at least a year before she came back. It was way back when I was in second grade.  When she came back, I remember hearing a lot of people apologizing to her and she’d just nod, dabbing at her eyes. She cried a lot back then. It was then I saw a picture frame on the table beside the crib, so I walked over to it and picked it up. It was Mrs. Haley, with a very big, round belly. Also on the table were a bunch of black and white pictures with numbers on them, an odd looking shape in the center. A baby? So, all that time Mrs. Haley was gone…she was pregnant?
But how? Where did the baby go? If she didn’t give birth, what happened? I browsed the rest of the table for answers, but came up empty. I looked over to a small dresser on the left hand corner of the bedroom, and something urged me to open the top drawer. When I walked over to it and peeked inside, I saw a small pink book marked ‘Diary’. It belonged to Mrs. Haley, or Deidra Marie Haley. I smiled, glad that we shared the same middle name. I didn’t know that. It turns out, I found out, that the diary was given to her by her mother, who I know died before I was even born. The first thirty pages or so were torn out, but I could see just a little bit of pencil in the margins. Nothing readable, though, but it still caught my eye. The first entry described when and how she felt when she discovered she was pregnant, the joy and excitement filling the next three pages.
I read through the first four months, but something strange caught my eye on the fifth month’s entry. She‘d been beaten by her husband one night while he was drunk and the wounds to her belly, she described, were slowly eating at her baby’s health. She’d taped a couple of pictures to the page beside it, more sonograms. The baby was deformed, the head was dented in and it was abnormally thin. The next entry told me that the baby had deformations and a bunch of health problems, that Deidra was dealing with a lot of sadness and was doing the same things that I did. She was cutting her arms like I used to, and she had even taken a picture of them and taped it to an empty page. She’d cut at least 15 marks in her arms, along with the words Help Me. I shuddered at the picture and moved on to the next entry, which ended up scaring me the most.
She’d skipped the last two months and had the baby, simply having taped a picture to the empty page with the word Why scrawled in thick bloody lettering. The picture, which was so disturbing that even my strong stomach couldn’t digest it. I vomited on the floor, falling to my knees as the picture fluttered to the ground beside me. As I coughed, I couldn’t help but recollect what I’d just seen. The ‘baby’ didn’t look human at all; pale, slimy, blue-blotched skin covered it, there was a giant lump in the front of the baby’s forehead, and the belly was swollen so much it had burst open, entrails spilling out. The hands were smaller than my doll’s, the feet swollen and huge. The legs were simply skin and bone, as well as the arms. There was no neck, just a chubby, contorted face that suggested agony and sick amusement. What scared me most was it didn’t have lips. I wiped my mouth with my not-so-torn sleeve and picked up the picture, slamming it back on the table. I took the diary and put it in my bag, starting toward the staircase again.
There was one problem with my theory of going back from where I came in. The staircase, of course, was gone. The floor started to feel weird, as well. Soon, I saw a thick, black, oily sludge oozing from the inside of the crib. I could hear a baby’s wailing, twisted and sounding like a thousand voices at once. The floor started to ooze the black sludge as well, and I felt myself sinking. I looked up in panic, reaching into my bag so maybe I could find a hook and rope to pull myself out. To my relief, there was a doorway in the ceiling that opened up to another room. I pulled out what I needed, a hook and rope. Thank you, mysterious travel bag. I circled the hook above my head like it was a lasso and tossed it upward, feeling it hook onto the inside of the opening. I pulled with most of my strength, hoisting myself out of the sludge and closer to the next awaiting challenge. The black pool kept rising, as if it was following me up, and I screamed as I felt its pull on my legs again. But just as soon as I felt it grab at me, I could feel it fading away with every inch I crawled and clambered. I squeezed myself through the not-so-spacey hole and slammed the door shut before the sludge could get any closer to me.
I looked around, and all I could see was porcelain. It was like the inside of a shiny new toilet. That was a gross thought, I managed to mumble in my mind as I climbed out of what looked like a bathtub. When I looked down at the door I’d slammed, it had apparently played mind-trick and turned into a drain stopper, the rubber kind with the metal ring on it. I was in a bathroom now, and my hair was very wet. I felt like I’d just taken a shower. My feet hit the smooth, cold tile and I had to hold onto the tub to keep from slipping. The entire floor was wet. Water? I crouched down, about to taste the wetness on the floor until I heard something sizzle. Then my feet started to burn, and they didn’t stop. The awful, gut-wrenching smell of burning skin and muscle made me gag, and I was screaming. I was so glad I decided not to taste it. I saw the door to the bathroom, but when I looked at the path to it, I wanted to cry. There were nails everywhere, and even more acid. I knew if I kept standing here my feet were going to be reduced to nothing, not even bone, so I started running. The pain from the nails going through my bare muscle was something I could barely withstand, but I made it. I threw the door open and jumped, landing on my face hard. I didn’t feel any more sizzling, no more nails going through my skin either. I looked up and into the next room, knowing I couldn’t be back in the Hall so soon. To my surprise, I was proven wrong. I looked to my right, where the Anger Realm was, and the door was disappearing. I cried with relief, pain, and utter depression. I was never going to get out of here.
I searched in my bag for something that might help my feet heal, and I was delighted to find a bottle of liquid named ‘Treatment for Acid Burns, Razor Cuts and All Other Injuries’. I opened the bottle and dabbed a little onto each foot, marveling at the quick re-growth of the skin and muscle. Within minutes, I was back on my feet again and ready to go through the next door. Still, I figured I should keep the little bottle just in case. I knew there wasn’t that much inside, given the travel size, so I corked it tight enough that it wouldn’t spill and put it back into my bag. I think it was then that I realized the doctor had stopped trying to follow me. I was sickly relieved at first, but then again, he could be in any of these rooms. An awful sense of feeling like all eyes were on me took over, and I couldn’t help but keep my eyes in motion at all times. I had to make sure nothing and no one was following me. When I saw nothing, I relaxed a little but not as much as I would have liked to. I still felt like something was watching…like something had been watching the whole time.
Was it my doll, whom I now knew was my Companion? Was it the helpful Tree-it, who promised it’d always be here for me? Or was it the doctor, whom I was certain wanted me dead or alive? Maybe they were all working together, and maybe they all wanted me dead or alive. This Key they sent me after…was it me? All these questions swarmed my brain with at least a million others, sending me into a state of paralyzing, fearful confusion. I remembered my doll was on my back, and I slid my arms through the backpack-like accessory I’d made for her to hold her in my arms. I started humming again as I stroked my doll’s hair, but I could feel the burning heat of tears filling my eyes again. I cried then, like I’d always cried since the Accident. I missed my mom, my dad, and my two older siblings. I missed running from the police, trying to avoid that awful room. Right now, that room seemed safer than this place by a long shot.

Chapter 4

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, which was looking pretty grubby right now, and stood up. God, I needed a bath, shower, something. I felt disgusting. I knew I looked disgusting. I could feel the grease in my hair from sweat, and I could see the bloodstains on my dress. My feet were healed, but they looked pretty nasty too. My nails looked bitten down to the cuticle, although I didn’t remember biting them. I’d never bitten my nails before. Blood speckled my hands, making me cringe. If I was inside my own mind, my mind needed cleaning up. I gave my doll one last pat on the head before I made my way to the next door, marked ‘Paranoia’. I knew this one was going to be something I could relate to, because right about now I knew something was watching me. I just didn’t have a clue as to what or whom was doing so. My slow steps toward the door, which was a good few feet in front of me, did well to relax me little by little. The more time I took getting to it, the more I could compose myself enough to face the challenge inside. When I saw the door starting to fade, I panicked. What on earth?
I started sprinting, screaming “Wait!” at the doorway as if it could hear me. The more I ran, the farther it seemed to be! When I thought I couldn’t run anymore, I noticed I was facing the door and it had stopped trying to fade from existence. I panted, my lungs and throat burning from the effort, and I turned the knob to force myself inside.
My senses told me that I was back home, and my eyes were lying to me. I felt the door slam and warp behind me, and I was alone again. I freaking hated being alone. When I looked around, I was facing my bedroom. My bedroom. No one else’s, no monsters, just me and my collection of mutilated toys. I laughed, a strange and evil sound that I’d never heard before. It sounded like something out of a psychotic killer’s horror movie. It made me truly wonder what I was turning into.
When I recovered from my devious laughter, I took a closer look around. I walked toward my dresser, putting on fresh clothes. I felt so much better. The next thing I sought were a pair of shoes, which I found in the closet. A pair of ballet slippers, black and stretchy but tied, were in the far right corner. I slipped them on and tied them to my ankles, knowing it would be a lot easier to walk around in some places now. It wouldn’t work as an effective barrier against acid bathrooms or nails in the floor, but most other terrain it would have to do. I couldn’t wear tennis shoes or boots because they would slow me down when I needed to run, and the dress had been slowing me down enough. I now wore a pair of stretchy pants and a ragged t-shirt, complete with leather gloves and a light jacket. I went over to my night-side table and picked up a scrunchie, tying back my hair into a pony tail. Now my hair was out of my face, I was in lighter clothes and I had shoes on. I just prayed all of this wasn’t a dream, and that I could actually wear this in the other realms. I looked in the mirror, a little more proud of how I looked. The jacket I wore was my favorite one, and I’d always worn it even when I was in the White Room. I was getting uneasy though, even with my favorite jacket on. This was all too easy, and where was the challenge? I ran over to my bedroom door and locked it, nailing boards from the bed onto the wall against it. This realm was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on whether I’d been here before or not. Probably not, I figured, since I didn’t even know I was paranoid until now. I could feel my heartbeat picking up, and my breathing was becoming shallow. I was freaking out, but I didn’t know why. I just knew, I could feel something was going to pop up out of nowhere. I wrapped my arms around myself in a sort-of-comforting hug and watched the closet door, then watched the window. I dug in my bag and retrieved a real gun this time, which made me grin bigger than a Cheshire cat could. I loaded it with the ammunition I retrieved, which was a grand total of five bullets. I was a terrible shot, I knew, but this was all I had. I would have to make it count.
Then I heard the footsteps again.
I knew it! I was screaming inside as I cocked the pistol, taking aim at the door to my closet. As the footsteps grew closer, I could feel the beads of sweat on my forehead start to go down my face. I clenched my teeth and narrowed my eyes. That son of a street woman was going to feel my bullet, whether he was ready for it or not. I backed into the door that I’d barred, probably a bad idea because as soon as I did, I felt the sharp sting of something breaking the skin in my neck. I winced and tried to move forward, but something was holding me against the door. I kicked, screamed and threw punches, all to no avail. When the invisible force decided to let me go, I fell to my knees on the floor. I felt groggy and I couldn’t see; it was like clouds had gone over my eyes. Booty juice, I thought to myself as I remembered the appropriately named paralyzing vaccine that the doctors used to give to unruly patients at the White Room. I knew the effects because I held the Room record for ‘most booty juice administered in a week’.
I hated that week, kind of like I hated today.
When I turned around to face the door, he was standing there. The now-bloody, very angry, and still-smiling doctor that I hated so very much to see. I aimed my gun at his face as well as I could, but he grabbed my arm and twisted so hard that I dropped it. The force of the gun hitting the floor must have set off the trigger, because it blew a bullet into my very beautifully painted side of the wall that I liked to draw on when I got bored. He seemed sickly calm, almost maniacal in the way he spoke to me, and all I could do was growl at him in rage and spit profanities that I’ll dare not repeat…mainly because I can’t remember them. I couldn’t remember or make out what he was saying, either, but I could feel the world swaying underneath me. I was going to pass out. Crap, I was going to pass out.
Not this time, Dr. Needle-Happy.
I grabbed the syringe he’d dropped on the floor after he’d administered the terrible medication through my veins and stabbed it into his leg, breaking off the needle inside of his muscle. He yelled out in pain and called me a profanity, slapping my face so hard I fell backward. I grabbed my gun and staggered to my feet, getting dangerously close to not being able to function at all. I hope you can hear me, I thought to my doll quietly as I took aim, because I need you right now! I fired one round, which managed to hit him in the other leg right in the kneecap. Another sound came from him, a scream, and he doubled over onto his side. I heard something rip behind me, and my first thought was that the doll’s stitches were coming apart. When I looked behind me to check, the doll was no longer on my back, but standing on its own with a butcher knife in its hand.

Submitted: April 06, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Jessica Green. All rights reserved.


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