Before I knew it, my hands were plunging through the sand, searching for that feeling, until I came to the object.
A doll. It was glass with marble eyes that closed when you laid her down. The hair was sandy and tangled, but the piercing black of the strands made it seem beautiful and delicate. Her dress was a navy blue and red plaid. One of her shoes was missing.
I cradled the doll in my arm, and then that strange feeling came again, as if it was shouting,
“Mary!” And that’s how I came to naming the doll Mary. I took her home, sat her in my wooden rocking chair, and laid down on my bed.
For a while I stared at her, contemplating the fact that someone left this poor doll. On the beach!
It just didn’t seem right, didn’t seem real.
Suddenly, I bolted straight up. The doll was gone. Mary was gone. Instead, another girl sat in the chair. She was laughing. Not a happy, nice laugh, but a cruel, backstabbing laugh that made me cringe.
“Who are you?”
The girl stopped laughing. Her eyes wandered over my whole room before looking back at me, and answering,
“I am looking for my doll. I’m Romy,” Romy began to rock back and forth on the chair, making a high, shrieking cracking that I was afraid would wake up my parents.
“No, her name is Katie.” Romy squinted. “It’s my doll, not yours. How did you find her? I thought I hid her enough.”
“Why did you hide her?” My voice shook with fear. Romy stood, coming over to me, her blonde, greasy hair swinging.
“She’s dangerous.” I tried to search her voice for a false hint, a joke, but she seemed serious.
“What do you mean?”
“She killed me. I need her back. I need to drown her, before she kills you.” Romy started laughing again.
“STOP THAT!” I yelled, throwing my book at her. The book flew straight through her. “Get out!”
Romy’s face twitched, as if it was on the verge of anger and pity. “As you wish,” And she was gone.
I lay there, gasping. What had just happened? Watch out, Romy’s voice said in my head, Good bye.
The doll was sitting back in the chair, as if it was just hiding from Romy. That weird girl, who claimed she was dead. Maybe I had dreamed it, but what happened next was real. The doll rose, singing in a soft voice, sending chills down my back.
Romy was right. She was right, but it was too late. The doll killed me. Now I roamed the Earth hiding the doll until an unlucky person found her, warning them.
My name is Romy.