Abigail Jane

Chapter 5

I was mortified! Had I dug this up in my sleep like state, had she made me do this? Did she leave her casket is she out and about walking like a real human!

I looked closer, it looked like nobody had ever been buried there, there was no smell of death not even scraps of old clothes or decayed matter.

All there was in the box was an old rag doll. Its button eyes glisten in the moonlight. The doll looked like it had been through a tornado. Along with being worn like a normal doll there were missing limbs, stitches, and even burn marks. In the dad's diary I had heard her dad saying that a doll was the only present the girl had got from her mom, she had made it before she was born. I think it had to be this doll.

I drew back a breath, this was all too strange. I picked it up and immediately felt the comfort the doll gave me and then I was in that house again. NO I could not let her back in my head. I stayed up the rest of the night trying to rebury the old coffin and I ran home and got rid of the evidence.

What was I supposed to do! How was I going to get rid of this, of her. She felt like someone who was watching me now, she was always in the corner of my mind. She was stuck to me, but I was also stuck to her and I had to find out more I had to know everything.

I walked over to Mrs Goodings house. I had to explain to her why I was out here, even it was strange. I did not want her telling the police that I had dug up a grave. I knocked and she opened the door. Too my surprise the old ladies taste in decor was quite moderen, it was like a whitewashed lakeside cabin more than an old lady's house in a small town.

To my surprise she beckoned me to come in and told me to sit down at her table. Her house smelled like saltwood and lavender and I sat there quite relaxed glad to have different company then "her".

"When I was younger in the 40's I went through a fase like you, when I first saw you out there I thought you were crazy, but as I got home I realized that you were just with the girl. I had never been as in depth with her as you were though. It almost seemed like she controlled you, I've only had dreams about her."

This lady had seen the girl as well I was ecstatic! My mind raced, I was not the only one the girl had contacted. "Do you know why she's dead?" I asked enthusiastically because it was the biggest mystery that haunted me about her.

"Oh honey it's the only thing I know about her, that's what my dreams were about? When I was younger she was a legend you know, they didn't know her name but we all knew the stories.

"What stories, I have never heard none."

"That is because it had stopped being passed down because people don't care about dead colonial children these days, it is regarded just as an "story." Well anyways it always started like this, A girl was accidentally injured by the native american tribe near by. So they took her in and taught her to be one of them.

She loved her new life as a native and loved the people culture and new friends she had made. In the first time in her life the young girl was happy. Then one day the girls father found her.

He was upset for the Indians had captured her. He and the townspeople eventually murdered the whole village for kidnapping her. The young girl tried to explained she loved these people but when they heard her say that "they were kind" they thought they had brain wiped her. They thought she had became crazy, some even thought her a witch.

They tried many ways to eventually cure her, but the cruel treatments they used to "help her" eventually made her turn mad. She reportedly performed treatments on her dolls, telling them "they wear wrong" and "they had to be fixed, just like she was." One day when the girl tried to escape from on of her treatments she accidentally fell into the fire. Here final words to the world where "I will keep on living until I have fixed this town as you have fixed me."

The house was filled with silence. I had never thought the story would end so terrible, I had thought it was terrible when the dear had trampled her and her mother had died, but this was much worse. No wonder the girl went crazy, her only real friends and family were massacred because of her.

This was crazier than I thought, then I looked down at the doll. She had said that she tried to fix her doll as she had been fixed I shivered. The doll had burn marks, and little doll fingers missing, what had this young girl been through!

I ran out of that old lady's house for I was upset, that girls life was terrible and I felt terrible for ever thinking I had a bad life. I had always related to the girl, I had a parent die when I was young, and I thought she was like me in a way.

There was no way to feel self pity, she had it worse. I layed down to cry she took over and again I was whisked away into her world.