Red As Roses and Black As Night

2. Ring Around The Rosie

One thing that always ticked my off about my sister is that she loves pranks, or her idea of them. One time she had managed to put clear saran wrap on the top of the kitchen doorway, so when I walked in my face hit it. I fell, clearly, and she laughed so hard. Sometimes I wonder if she's mentally ill from all the radiation chemo gave her, even if I feel guilty for thinking that.

And right now, she thought it would be funny to sing ring-around-the-rosie outside my bedroom door. My nightlight isn't on, can't be on, and it's two in the morning. I pulled my blanket over my ears, holding back a groan.

"Ring around the rosie..."

I swear, when my alarm goes off I'm going to throw it out the window.

"Pocket full of posies..."

I tensed, clutching the blankets in my hands. I never got angry at my sister, but she was really pushing it. Thunder rumbled, and I was surprised when she didn't laugh. A light illuminated my room, probably lightening, that I could see through the blankets. I could also see the shadow of a person, blocking the light. My heart flipped and I yanked the blankets down, but nobody was there, and I couldn't smell them either.

Come to think of it, I couldn't smell my sister either.

"Ashes, ashes..."

And I couldn't hear her heart.

"We all fall down!"

There was a thud on my door, and my grip tightened on my blankets so that my knuckles were probably white. "Emma, go back to bed. This isn't funny." I muttered, and instead the nursery rhyme started again.

"Ring around the rosy..."

"Emma, I'm serious."

"Pocket full of posies..."

"Do I need to come out there?"

"Ashes, ashes..."

"I'm coming out. You better be in bed, Emma." I said, standing up. The shadows in my room were watched by me as I crept to the door.

"We all fall down!" and then a thud on my door again.

I reached and threw it open, and my heart ran away with the rest of my organs to cower under my blankets. Emma was not at the door.

But a doll was, the face cracked and missing a piece. It was so dirty, and unmoving, yet...I felt...watched. I was scared to pick it up--stupid Annabelle movies--and also scared to do anything else. This isn't a horror movie, I'll be fine. I picked up the doll, and it did nothing. I let out a sigh of relief and walked down the hall to my sister's room. Mom and Dad were asleep across the hall, and I hope the doll....my sister didn't wake them up. The doll couldn't have done this.

I opened the door quietly, and saw my sister was in bed. I shivered. "Emma, stop faking." I whispered, and listened for an answer. All I got was a slow heart-beat and steady breathing. She was asleep, there was no faking a heartbeat. I placed the doll on her nightstand and went pack to my room, and thunder rumbled again.

A flash of lightning revealed another doll, laying on the floor.

And I swear, her eyes were looking at me. Watching from the dark.

I stumbled from my room and then to Emma's. I took the doll out and put it in my room with the other and crawled into bed beside my sister. Yeah, I'm a werewolf afraid of the dark and talking dolls. Blame it on psychology.

"Fane?" my sister whispered, arousing from her sleep. "No, shh, go back to sleep. It's okay, go back to sleep." I whispered to her, and she just made a sleepy grunt and turned in her sleep. Lucky her, she didn't have dolls banging on her door, keeping her awake. They weren't burned into her memory, keeping her from sleeping.