Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-37197096-20190121073935

'Hey ya'll at the writer's workshop, I promise to try harder with my pastas...starting now. It DOES look cliche. A 'haunted' doll does seem like an overused trope. But i'm going to put a little salt and pepper into it. Heck, even salsa. Enjoy the pasta...'

For as long as I can remember, when I was a younger child, I always carried a harmless little doll around with me. I loved it, I took care of it, like all children do...but, there is a time where that tresured belonging of yours no longer means anything to you. Well, now I'm 36...and that doll led me to ultimate disaster.When I was around 15 years old, I had found the doll underneath my dresser, covered in dust and underneath baby clothes. "My doll!" I exclaim out in cheer. Upon touching it's dusty surfuce, I feel a soft squish as I gently push on it. It gave me so much nostalgia.

The doll wasn't damaged, and it didn't look much different: The hair was tattered though, and some of the dust permanently stained one of it's eyes. What a shame, but that's okay. I promise to never leave this doll alone again. Well, over time, I grew closer and closer to it. But...my family found it unsettling. How do they not remember?

Her name is Evelyn. Of course, to me, she is a normal girl. At least...that's what I had thought. Eve is a great friend to me, and understands me through any situation or problem. One day, while going down to dinner, my Parents had looked at me like they'd had enough. "Haniyah, if you don't get rid of that doll, we're going to destroy it," my mother said.

After this argument, after Evelyn experienced all of that, she gave me a genious idea. "W̸̯̭̅-̷̘̹̍ẘ̴̥ḧ̵̲́-̵̲̚w̸̽͜h̵̗̩͛ä̸͎́t̴̠̩͝ ̸̪̄͗î̶̦͖͝f̶̩́ ̸̢͇͐̇y̷͍̣͐͝ȏ̶̥͒ú̵̝ ̸͍͊͗ͅj̵̳̆̀ͅư̴̠̥̈s̴̡͑͊t̸̮̩͛̃-̷̨͎̃͠ ̴͓̂͋k̸͍̟͌ï̴͉l̶̼͛l̸̲̀̇ ̴̾̾͜ẏ̴̧̢́o̸̹͜͠-̸̩̂u̶̡̔̕r̷͎͌̓͜ ̵̫̉p̶̧̈a̵͔̥͠ř̴̦ȇ̸̢̼-̷̭̰̈́n̴̥͌̑t̸̗͌̋s̸̳͒͝?̷̫̀" Which is brilliant. Later in the night, with an old chainsaw that I found in my closet, I had dissembled my parents, cut off their hair, and put their eyeballs in a jar. Later, the police had arrived to my house and arrested me.

I woke up in a white room, when they asked me a simple question: "Why did you do this?" Of course, I answered truthfully. "Evelyn told me to do it. You know, the small doll?" The police officer gives me a silent look. "...Did she run away?" With a hesitant response, they say: '''"I'm sorry, there was no doll. You have Schiezopherina." '''

'End, looks like it. I'm kinda scared after writing this, especially at 12:00am...spoopy. Also sorry if the ending is sudden, I usually don't know how to end stories.' 