This is a short story. I was about 9 yrs old and we lived in this house that was totally haunted. I will tell more stories later, but for now I will tell you this one.
I lived with my grandmother and my mother lived upstairs from us with my other siblings. I was always a scaredy cat at night. It was worse because I was petrified of the dark. I thought things only happened at night.
Well one day I faked being sick so I didn't have to go to school. After a while I was bored so I went up to my mom's apartment without my grandma knowing. I wasn't supposed to go up there when no one was home. Anyways when I got up there the door was unlocked so I went in. Soon as I went in I started going through the hallway closet. I took everything out. As I was doing that I kept hearing knocking from the window so I would go check, and each and every time I did it would stop then when I went back to the closet it started up again. After a while I just ignored it. I just looked at everything that I took out of the closet and I come across this little red devil doll with a mean face on it.
I picked it up I look at it, then I started saying I hated it I tried to break it. I even tried smashing it with a hammer, but it would not break. So after I was done trying to destroy it I picked it up. And when I looked at it again it had a huge smile on it which wasn't there when I first looked at him. I got so scared I just threw him back in the closet with everything else and I ran for the door.
Then all of a sudden I go back to the closet and take everything out looking for the the doll cause I was going to throw it out cause I thought it was going to get my siblings. I took everything thing out of the closet and couldn't find the doll at all, and I know exactly where I threw him. I checked everything; he wasn't there.
The knocking on the glass stopped and I know for sure it wasn't a person because my mom lived on the third floor. Well I ran downstairs as fast as I could. I didn't tell my grandmother that day but I did tell my mom that night. She yelled at me, not because of me being up there but because of the doll. She said she threw him out months ago in the trash and and thought one of me and my siblings brought him back into the house. She was mad and she was terrified at the same time. Ever since that day I hated dolls. I fear them.
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