The Doll

4

Alice

Knock-knock.

As my consciousness emerged from the depths of slumber, I was roused by a persistent rapping resonating from the lower regions of the house.

I emitted a discontented groan whilst casting my gaze upon the timepiece resting upon my nightstand.

3:01 AM.

Bewilderment enveloped me as I pondered the identity of the late-night visitor at my door. Surely, it must be some juvenile prankster attempting to disrupt my slumber. With this notion in mind, I endeavored to return to my peaceful repose. However, as soon as my eyelids met, the knocking reverberated once more, its resonance even rousing Bella. Gaining a semblance of alertness, I propped myself upright, casting an observant glance about the room. Curiously, the entrance to my sanctuary was slightly ajar, a departure from my recollection of firmly securing it prior to retiring for the night. Yet, this peculiarity could be ascribed to the whims of the wind, which often possesses the power to manipulate such objects. The most confounding element in the room, however, was the wooden chair upon which I had placed the doll I had chanced upon merely a day prior.

I was unequivocally convinced that the chair had been positioned proximate to my bedside when I delicately nestled the doll upon it the preceding day. Yet, to my bewilderment, the chair now stood resolutely beneath the window. Astonishingly, the doll remained perched upon the chair, mirroring its placement from the previous night. I fixated my gaze upon the chair, pondering the unfathomable feat of its relocation, particularly as I had not so much as grazed it since yesterday. My scrutinizing gaze then shifted towards the doll, albeit an inanimate object, which inexplicably seemed to reciprocate my stare through its diminutive black eyes.

Knock-knock.

In the depths of my contemplation, pondering the inexplicable movement of the chair, a resounding knock echoed for the third time. Rousing myself from beneath the warm embrace of my coverlet, I wearily extricated my fatigued form from the plush bed. Proceeding towards the slightly ajar door, I swung it open, revealing a corridor shrouded in impenetrable darkness. Venturing into the obscurity, I hastened towards the staircase. The ambiance within the hallway seemed unnervingly colder in comparison to the comfort of my bedroom, yet I persisted despite the biting chill. Numbing my arms with fervent friction, I descended the stairs with eager anticipation, yearning to unveil the identity of the persistent knocker. With each stride towards the door, the forceful knocking reverberated once more, resonating not as a mere rap, but rather as an insistent and forceful pounding.

"Seriously, who goes knocking on people's doors at three in the morning," In exasperation, I voiced my disdain for the untimely intrusion, wondering aloud about the audacity of anyone who would dare disturb one's peace in the dead of night. With measured strides, I approached the entrance, allowing my hand to rest upon the cool metal of the doorknob, executing a deliberate twist that revealed the world beyond. My intention was to reprimand the presumed culprit, a mere child of ten years with an inclination for vexation. However, what awaited me on the other side left me utterly speechless, aghast at the extraordinary spectacle that unfolded before my eyes.

No one was there.

The porch stood deserted, and as I surveyed the front yard, I observed its vacancy as well. The moon's radiant beams bestowed a glistening touch upon the grass, causing it to shimmer harmoniously with the gentle breeze. Adjacent to the entrance, the rocking chair swayed ever so slightly, succumbing to the bitter gusts. Placing my bare feet upon the frigid, wooden floor of the porch, I ventured outside. Hastily, I scrutinized my surroundings, ensuring the absence of any potential assailants. To my astonishment, not a soul graced the scene; a sight that only deepened my bewilderment.