Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26027963-20150213180541

​IT'S STILL FREAKIN' THERE! It had been five days since that that thing had last moved, and STILL it had not moved. It was just sitting right on the top of my bookshelf, yet my Mom has said that she had moved it there. I was still too terrified to move it, because when I last tried to move it, I swear it could hear it say, “Don’t touch me.” It was just much too creepy, the "Elf On The Shelf," as my mom called that thing, she used it as a pincushion.

​I used to kinda like the little doll, until two things happened. One, my mom started using it as a pincushion, it started to really weird with all those needles in its stomach. Like it was about to have surgery, but all the doctors gave up once they already put the needles in.

​That was nothing compared to when it started moving, though. It felt like it was always following me, like sometimes, when I go into the bathroom, I won’t see it anywhere, but when I came back out, it would be sitting on the nearest shelf. I thought it was Mom at first, but when I told her to stop moving the Elf/Pincushion, she denied ever moving it. We lived alone in our house, my Dad was in the airforce, so thats when I knew, there was somthing wrong with that doll.

​This was the first time it had ever sat in my room, though. So I tried to ignore it and go to sleep, and ended up getting a good sleep, until I was rudely awakened by the dog barking, at sometime around, like, two in the morning. I waited until I heard my mother scold her for barking, and I tried to go back to bed. However, I felt something else on my bed. I roll over to look on my pillow, only to see the demented-elf thing staring at me. I screamed like a banshee, but it just came out as an inaudible croak.

​It was muffled by tightly closed lips, sewn shut with the thread coming from the doll's hand. I still was yet to see it all. When It stood, it looked like a marionette, slowly standing like it was controlled by strings, I was immobilized by fear. "Do you know how I can do this?" His voice like a demonic rumble. "Do you know how we are powered? Do you even know how we are made?" He took a needle out of stomach, and began to sew my eyes shut. It came to my ear and said in that demonic tone. “From the souls of dead children," and I blacked out from the pain.

​So now I'm here, writing my story in my little elf body. Waiting for my next victim to come home from school. Apparently I'm a gift, and ohh, I'll give him a gift alright, so he'll never feel a thing, and don't worry, sooner or later I give you that gift too!

This is a revised version of a previous pasta I posted on here, thanks for reading and please leave a comment! 