My Grandmas Doll

by Ben Shrouder

I had the weekend to myself because my family had gone on holiday abroad. I was very excited and curious to how the house felt alone, when there was nothing to hear, and I could do anything I wanted. It was creepy and almost always silent, but watching TV kept me occupied. On Saturday I had decided to search through some old family photos. I thought I could show my friends some funny ones of my brother.

I searched silently in our cell of an attic. Eventually, when I retrieved the dusty box from our attic I could see we only had a few, and they were strangely old. It was almost as if they hadn't been touched for a generation, or at least since we'd moved in to our new house. As I was looking at our strange and intriguing collection, a torn but beautiful shot caught my eye. It was of my grandma, as a small girl. It was the only picture with colour, and the colour was of her doll. Obviously the colour was added afterwards with pen and the initials T.W were engraved into the frame it was placed in. There was something that kept drawing my eye to the contrasting, sad-faced doll. My grandma embraced it because it must have been ver close to her. She had beautiful eyes, which i'm sure were looking deeply into me.

The next day the weather was gloomy. The house was littered with shadows and beams of light leaving trails of dusts across the room like the fog of a winter morning, but darker. It felt like something was meant to happen. I was only young, but what happened next scares me until this day. I heard, or I thought I heard, a child laughing from the next room, the living room. I was in the kitchen getting a drink. Her voice was squeaky and hushed. It lasted about three seconds before I hesitated to investigate.

I walked into the room and on the carpet was a pink, dusty doll. It had a small smile. For some reason only the eyes appeared to be brand new. Engraved onto the back of the head was Thank-you". I was about to turn before the whispered hush started again. In the reflection of the window in front of me I saw an old lady, smiling. It was her sitting on the chair my grandma had given us the year before. She stepped forward, with her back bent like she was in pain. The old lady rose slowly from the chair, her face still looking vertically at the fireplace. After a minute she finally turned her body, stepped forward and hugged me before disappearing.

The week after I learnt that my grandma had died.

I have never believed in the paranormal but this has scared me. I still have the pink doll as evidence; it is the only thing my family believes me about. I know I should be enlightened because I could have seen my grandma

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