The Evil Doll -Louis Tomlinson horror fanfic-

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-Louis POV-

"Phoebe, have you done enough snooping around up here?" I asked, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "This attic is awfully hot."

"Can't we stay just a little while longer, please?" pleaded my five year old sister, Phoebe. "There's so much fun stuff."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay."

I remembered the fun i had the first time i explored the dusty, junk-crammed attic at my old home in Doncaster. Sixteen years ago, when i was Phoebe's age, i'd poked through same old army trunks. I'd stared at the same heavy-framed photos of unknown people and climbed over the same leather suitcases battered from untold voyages to faraway places. Only now the attic was filled with even more cardboard boxes, many identified by the labels saying 'Christmas', 'Halloween', and 'Memorabilia'.

I snapped from my thoughts seeing my sister climbing on top of a cracked, wobbly hutch. I ordered, "Get down from that-"

Too late.

The unsteady hutch toppled backward , pitching my sister into a pile of blankets. "Phoebe!"

Phoebe popped to her feet and grinned. "I'm fine! Whee, that was fun!" She giggled.

I sighed in relief. "You could have been seriously hurt and i would've been very upset - not to mention in big trouble with mum."

The blankets on which Phoebe had landed slipped sideways, revealing a three-by-one-foot wooden box marked 'Donny'.

"Whats this?" I wondered. I pried it open. "Wow! Look at that!" I lifted out a boy doll that was nearly as big as Phoebe. He was dressed in a white sailor outfit with a red and white striped shirt and a cocked sailor hat pinned to his hair. His head and body were made out of a thin porcelain that made his skin shine.

"I've never seen a doll that big!" marveled Phoebe, reaching out to hold it. "He looks like a real boy."

I fingered the doll's curly auburn hair. "Its the same color and texture as mine." I studied his green eyes. "Haha, he looks like Harry. They seem to twinkle." Painted on his pink face were freckles and the rosiest cheeks i had ever seen. "What a cute smile."

I noticed a tattoo on his right arm, partially hidden by his shirtsleeve. In small but flowery script it read 'Donny'.

I scratched my head. "I guess Donny's his name then."

Handing the doll over to my sister, I reached in the wooden box and pulled out several piles of neatly folded clothes. "Hey Phoebe, he has his own wardrobe. I wondered whose doll this was."

"LouLou! Oh, can i have Donny, please pretty please?" Phoebe begged, squeezing the doll against her chest.

"Well," I leaned down to her level. "Its not for me to say. But i guess theres no harm in taking him downstairs."

"Goody!"

"Baby's crying," I said reaching for the infant monitor that i placed on the attic floor. "Doris is waking up. Want me to carry the doll for you?"

Phoebe shook her head making her ponytail sway from side to side. "Uh-uh. He's mine. He's so sweet."

Sweet, maybe. Dangerous, absolutely.