Stella found a door in the new house
Hidden under the stairs from the adults
A door with a size so small for a crawl
At twelve midnight,
She was attracted to it
Drawn by the bright lights
That shone from within.

In she went, despite just being six
Into the cold narrow corridor
She found a lonely doll
With cheeks so rosy
And laughing eyes so blue
Out with it she crawled
To bond with her new best friend.

From that day,
Mum had nightmares
And dad became prone to accidents
Elder sister almost drowned in the tub
And her brother fell from the tree house
But all the doll did was laugh and laugh.
A laughter she alone could hear
She was scared and slept with it no more

One day, while she was away in school
Doll springs out of her room
Frightens mum who rolled down the stairs and broke her neck.
Elder sister was choked by her own necklace
Little brother gouged his eyes out
Dad set himself and the house ablaze.

And when Aunt came to take her away
Not a second glance did she spare the hateful laughing doll.
Thirty five years later, in her new home
Her daughter, Annabel came running into the room with a happy scream
With the doll held up in her hands.

"Look what I found! I'll call her Annie!"
Taken aback, eyes wide with shock
Those mockiing blue eyes holding hers
Stella clasped the sides of her head
And screamed as the doll began to laugh again!
A laughter only she could always hear.
The doll was back!
To take her beloved family away
Again!

The ******* the bridge,
Always on a yellow blouse
And a white flowing skirt.
Never a night does she misses her spot.
Elbows on the railings
Hair fluttering as wild as the wind
Always obscuring her face from sight.

Every night, I wonder
Who is she?
Where is she from?
Why this lonely bridge?
Never seen her move a muscle
Nor utter a sound.
It was rather strange.

Until one night, I decided to chat with her.
"Hey" I called but no response.
She must be coy...
"Hey..." I tried again and approached her this time.
No response still.
Is she deaf?

I touch her shoulder and she turns
She gave a shrilling scream
And that was all I remembered.
In the hospital I woke
And when asked why I had passed out on a bridge,
I could give no response.
I was cold.
The memory brought nothing but pure terror.

For how could I tell them
That the ******* the bridge
Had no face?
Yet she had always gazed down at the flowing stream below
And she had screamed right at me with no mouth on her empty face.

Anytime I walk on the bridge
Her spot is always empty
For she's forever gone
But I still have this wary feeling
That she watches me from the shadows
With that faceless horror
Waiting to take my face for hers.

She tosses.
She turns.
Restlessness comes with perspiration.
A rather peculiar presence in the room.

The sheets creases more,
They turn damp from her sweat.
Fingers clench them in grips.
And an helpless moan from her lips.

A cold touch she felt on her shin
Eyes fly open.
Gasping and jumping awake.
There across the room was the problem.

The wraith shrouded in the darkness
Skull face as eerie as ever
Eyes like two burning orbs
His pasted sinister smile fixed on her.

With an outstretched hand,
He beckons with a skeletal finger-
It's time!

An isolated farm house
In the outskirt of town.
At the strike of 3a.m
Someone came knocking.
With a lamp at hand
Old Mrs. Peterson descended the Stairs Into her quaint living room,
To the door she went.

"Knock knock" it came again
Puzzled, at the grandfather clock
She glanced.
"Knock knock" again it came.
In trepidation, she approached the door.
Key turned, doorchain detached,
Gingerly, she opens the door
There was no one. No one!

Few seconds later, she was startled
By the sounds of hooves
Thumping up her stairs,
And on the wall
Was the eerie shadow of
A humanoid creature
With ram horns and hooves.

     I had better call the sheriff
       *She mutters in displeasure
     **I have a **** bugler dressed in a crazy costume in my house

That song! That haunting song!
At twenty years of age,
Off his bed he rose
And to his window he went
There she was, seated in the swing
And singing to herself her lullaby.
It was always her favourite.

She lifted her blank eyes and held his
Those eyes sent shivers down his spine.
A ghost she was,
Why wouldn't she leave him be?
Yes, responsible for her death he was
But that was three years ago.

At thirty four, even after marraige
With three beautiful kids,
She still wouldn't leave that swing
Or put a stop to that **** song
He alone heard her
He told no one else about this ghost
But wanted nothing to do with her.

At fifty, she was still at the swing
Singing and swaying in the swing
She still looked sixteen,
But he looked frail.
He had tried to tell her off
But not a single word would she utter to him.
It was a **** gone wrong
A girlfriend in highschool,
Who had been adamant to give away her virtue.
And the overdose had killed her.

At seventy, an heart attack he had,
Right in the yard.
He couldn't breathe
And he couldn't cry for help.
At the brink of death, she finally left her perch
And floated to his dying body.
Only a sentence she whispered,
And it was colder than death itself.

**You were always my first love