A Collection of Short/Long Stories I've Written;

Forget Me Not: A Short Story;

Summary: 

                           Laura is a scared, lonely young girl who finds comfort in her sister, Emily's, dolls house. It's her shelter and form of protection away from her father, but lately, ever since Emily's funeral, something about the deceased room doesn't feel right. It's just too cold. And someone doesn't want to be forgotten, not until everythings put right.

    (All rights by myself, Amanda-Rose, the author.)

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                                              Laura imagined, behind the glass of her world, entering theirs, that life would be grand. Everything seemed neat organised and immaculate; just how she liked things. Her breath misted her image, and everything inside seem foggy and she furrowed her eyebrows. Realising it was her mistake she closed her mouth before lifting up her arm to rub the condensation away. A shiver ran down her spine and she shook, lightly, to rid the feeling from her bones, but her hair stood on ends and she soon found herself frowning again.

      Laura tore her eyes away from the perfect picture before her to see if anything was behind her, she got the feeling that someone was breathing against her neck. But there was nothing there and she knew it because she could see for herself. Yet there was a strange thought arising in the back of her mind that told her that her eyes deceived her and there was something there.

    At first she grew nervous, slowly massaging her hands in anxiety. She didn’t know why, but lately, every time she looked at her sisters beautiful dolls house, smiling at the perfection, she also grew nervous, as if her sister wouldn’t approve of her sneaking.

   “There’s nothing there,” she muttered to herself, repeating it – after saying it aloud – in her head liked a mantra. “Everything’s fine.”

    Taking a few deep breaths she turned back around to the doll’s house. Everything was fine. Perfect, even. But then she looked closer at the window she had not long ago peered in to spy on the family sat around the table, happily enjoying the life she envied to have, and something was wrong. There was condensation of someone’s breath on the window – except not hers. She had wiped hers away, she remembered doing so. Laura turned back around again to see I anything else was behind her, yet like before, nothing.

     She stood up quickly, running to the corner of Emily’s dark, lonely room. Fear she recognised all too well ran through her and a low son escaped her lips. She didn’t know what suddenly made her, but the Goosebumps, the condensation, the shiver, it all seemed creepy. It was destroying the concept of why she had entered Emily’s room in the first place.  Laura, who only went into her sister’s room to look at the dolls in the house suddenly didn’t want to be there anymore. It didn’t seem like a safe place, not like it used to. Like the room her sister had once slept in, the rooms in the house suddenly seemed to be surrounded in a dark aura, as if something in the house had passed; disappeared. 

     Shaking her head she worked up the courage to move back to show herself that it was all in her head when she heard footprints downstairs; her father was home.  The young girl stopped moving, stayed still and let her breath come out in a slow pace as to not make noise. She stayed like this for some times and after a while the footsteps that creaked along that landing stopped and Laura lowered her head, relieved that her father was no longer on that floor of the house. Her eye, in her peripheral vision, caught glimpse of her scar – the latest punishment, and found now found courage, realising that against that, she was just being silly here. There was nothing wrong. It was just a dolls house. It was perfect. She wasn’t a child anymore and this couldn’t harm her. This was her safe place. But then Laura went back over and was horrified in what she was. The symptoms of her earlier anxiety were back and the girl stumbled backwards. In the warm, comforting dining room there was nothing. The family had gone. All that was left, in that little wooden house, was a figurine of a young girl in the dark attic of a room and a man standing outside the door, waiting.

     What shocked Laura the most was not the story that characters placement told but the face on the young girl. The doll, not seen in the house before, not from the perfect family she adored, trapped in the room, stood by the window, looking out, screaming, as if behind that window she was trapped – imprisoned.

     Laura realised, at that moment, as she stumbled out the door, with the image of the young girls face still in her mind even though it was out of her field of vision now, that being naïve and believing that life can be prefect all the time was something, in her life, she would never find.

     Emily’s room was left untouched until her frail mother finally, years later, found the courage to discard all of her deceased daughters belongings, then the haunted dolls house was burned. Laura’s house, however, remained haunted until the death of her father many years later.