My Brothers Doll

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl's obsession with her brothers clown doll goes too far...

Submitted: January 05, 2008

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Submitted: January 05, 2008

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That doll has always scared me so much.
My brother has this clown doll, he calls it Larry, and the way my brother dotes over it you’d think it was made out of pure gold or something.
I hate clowns, they scare me. You never know who’s hiding behind that painted face and that brightly coloured jumpsuit. It could be anyone, it’s a clever disguise. Clowns are harmless, aren’t they?
That doll…It stares at you, with its huge, grey eyes and its frozen grin that makes it look possessed. No human looks like that, but this clown isn’t human, it’s far from being anything close to human, it’s a cold blooded killer, I know it.
It stares at me, I know no one else see’s it, but I do. It doesn’t like me, it doesn’t like that fact that I haven’t fallen under it’s spell, I’m stronger than that, I’m not going to become it’s slave.
It’s been like this for four years, I was twelve years old when my brother was born, I was twelve years old when that hellish doll was presented to him by the doctors and nurses at the hospital for being the 500th baby born. It’s some sort of weird tradition it that hospital, that’s why I’m glad I was never born there.
Staying home alone with that thing is completely out of the question, whenever my parents and brother go out, I make sure that evil thing goes straight out the door with him. I don’t want to be stuck in a two-storey house with something that evil.
You probably think I’m insane, obsessing over a doll like this, but you haven’t seen it. I’ve seen it move, when it doesn’t think anybody, especially me, is looking. The odd twitch of the head, the small movement of it’s eyes. Those eyes…They have no sympathy in them, they’re completely emotionless, that’s what scares me so much when he moves.
That damn doll, it does my head in. I’ve tried many a time to get rid of it, to rid our house of that demonic thing…
And each time I’ve been caught, it infuriates me, I try to come up with a plausible excuse for it. I tried once to explain to my mum about how it was evil and how I needed to get rid of it, she just looked at me like I was crazy and said.
‘Veruca, you’re far too old to be playing such games like that, now put that doll back in your brothers room.’
It annoys me when people look at me like I’m crazy, because I believe in all that superstitious stuff, black cats, ghouls, ghosts, demons. You name it I believe in it, that’s why I see the clown - I think. Because I know what the truth is behind that painted smile and colourful suit. I can see it for what it truly is.
 
One night I’m home alone, my parents have gone to collect my brother from a birthday party. It’s seven o’clock. The grandfather clock in the lounge room clangs loudly, seven times.
And I’m sitting there, curled up on a chair, too terrified to move to go upstairs, or go to the bathroom. The pressure on my bladder increases once again, but I don’t give in. I’d rather wet myself than go up there.
My brother didn’t take his doll to the party.
I’m stuck with it, I’m alone in the house with it, my parents wouldn’t let me come. They needed me to put on dinner.
The doll, I know its up there somewhere, creeping around, laughing at me.
I hear something upstairs, and I try not to scream. It’s laughing at me, I know it, laughing it’s head off. It knows I’m alone and vulnerable. It’s waiting for its chance to strike.
But not if I get it first.
I slowly slide off the chair and walk cautiously to the kitchen where I then take up a huge butchers knife that’s lying on the bench.
I hold it in my hand firmly as a begin to ascend the stairs, placing both feet on each step, taking my time. I don’t want to rush it, I might miss my chance.
I walk into my brothers room, there it is. Sitting on the end of his bed, all innocent, like a doll.
Just sitting there.
It’s mocking me, it’s trying to fool me, but I know better, I know what it really is.
‘I’m going to sent you straight back to hell’ I hiss through gritted teeth.

Outside I hear a car door slam and footsteps up the driveway, it’s my family, I need to do it now…before my family come inside and stop me. They are all under his spell I know it, they don’t understand, they’re serving him, the traitors.

As I walk towards the bed, I trip on something laying on my brothers floor and fall to my knees, banging my mouth on the edge of his bed. I taste blood and there is a gap where my front tooth should be, the pain in unbearable and blood gushes out of my mouth but I don’t care.
My mind is fixated on one thing only.
That damn clown.
I can hear voices downstairs, calling my name and there is someone walking up the stairs, it’s now or never.
I grab the clown and slam it to the ground, causing a crack to appear in its porcelain face. I raise the knife and prepare to bring it down, stabbing the clown in his small, beating heart.
There’s a hand on my shoulder, they’re trying to stop me, they don’t understand. So I must stop them…
I swing around and sink my knife into the tiny chest of my little brother.
Blood spurts out, it’s everywhere, it runs down my arms and splatters onto my face as, again and again I sink the knife into his body.
All I can see now is blood, my vision is foggy and blurred, everything has turned red.
I can hear screams, the screams of my parents, and the dying screams of my baby brother.
They don’t understand, the doll needs to be stopped, it had him under its spell. Killing my brother has saved us all.
The next few days pass in a blur, all I remember are constant trips to the hospital.
I’m sitting in a room, drawing. I draw scene from that night. Myself, sitting in the lounge room waiting for the clown, the clown himself, laughing at me. The final scene I draw is my favourite one.
Me killing my brother. Me ridding our house of evil.
 
We’re driving out of town now. I don’t know where we’re heading, and whenever I ask my parents they ignore me and continue driving. We drive and drive, we’re in the countryside now, there isn’t anything for miles and miles.
Then, in the horizon I see something – A large, white building.
As we get closer to it we pass a sign, I only just manage to read it.
‘St Josephine’s Psychiatric Hospital for the Mentally Unsound.’
 
A loony bin, they’re going to put me in a loony bin.
They can’t do that to me! I’m sane, it’s them who should be checking into that hospital, they don’t see the evil in the clown. They just don’t
They can’t lock me up, they can’t.
We drive into the entrance of the hospital, there are two people dressed in white waiting outside the front door.
I feel angry, more angry than I could ever imagine.
I rip my seatbelt off and fling the car door open before the car has even started to come to a halt. I lunge out of the car, screaming. I scream and scream.
I continue screaming as the two doctors grab and try to hold me down, I scream as the parents slowly drive out the gate, I never want to stop screaming.
I open my mouth, but the scream doesn’t come out, I’ve forgotten all about screaming. My eyes are frozen on the back of my parents car as they drive away.
In the back window I see a face.
A small, white face with two small crosses drawn over its eyes and a wicked grin.
The clown, even from this far away I can hear it laughing, and it continues laughing as it raises one hand in farewell.
I scream again.
‘No! You don’t understand, the clown! It’s going to kill them…kill them all…’ I sob as the doctors drag me towards the hospital entrance.


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