Scary Stories

Story Six: Faulse

I grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere, actually in Indiana to be excact. I never particularly liked the creepy old place. Or the creepy doll that was left in the house when my parents bought it.

The porcelain doll had pale skin, curly black hair, and was dressed in a blue and white lace dress, with painted on shoes. The doll was brand new and came in wooden box with a silk cushion for the doll lay on inside.

The doll had a tag on its back with the makers lable and it's name. "DAKOTA" It read. Even being the young girl I was, I never liked it, so I still kept it in the cellar.

"Polly, we're going out, the babysitter will here in a half an hour, will you okay here on your own for a little bit?" My mother called to me. I was only 9, "yeah mom! I'll be fine!" I shouted.

I heard my parents leave as I continued to play with the dolls I liked, on my old pink oriental rug, covering my hard wood floor. I hummed the song "you are my sunshine" and bounced the beautiful doll I had named Jane, up and down.

Then traded off Jane for Cheryl then Cheryl for Alice, and so on. I heard a door slam down stairs, figuring it was my babysitter, Valarie, I set down my precious toys then skipped out of my room, and trotted down the stairs.

Nobody was anywhere in the first level, and still, the doors were locked but the door leading down the basement was open. I thought nothing of it considering the knob didn't work it must have opened on accident. I shut the door then returned to the stairs to see the steps were trashed.

They were covered in stuffing, red liquid, and doll clothing. As she climbed further up and up, I realized I was crushing porcelain beneath my feet. I recognized the doll clothing as the dresses that they were the clothes of MY dolls.

I rushed to my room and sae my carpet was stained with this red liquid, all leading up to the creepy old doll Dakota. Her porcelain hands were stained with the liquid.

I saw my old dollys, who were once beautiful, stripped of there clothes and sliced open while haning upside down swinging by the ceiling fan. I was petrified. I urged myself to sit next to the doll. Something was deeply wrong with it.

I nervously hummed "ring around the rosy" while akwardly playing with the doll. All the sudden I picked up the doll, ran to my door, threw it out of my room the closed the door and locked it.

I ran to a corner and quietly rocked myself as the doll pounded on the door. I cried and cried into my hands until the door finally gave way and in ran Valarie.

I told her what Dakota did. We made a fire in the den that night and burned the doll. I swear to this day that the fire turned green when Valarie turned away.