The Petrifying Doll

On a chilly and misty day, I set out on my usual errand, perhaps a bit overly bundled up, to gather the ingredients for my beloved Pasta. As I walked, I stumbled upon a doll lounging in a comfortable position. Intrigued, I couldn't resist picking up the doll with my frozen hands. To my surprise, upon closer inspection, I noticed distinct scars on its delicate frame. Despite a thorough scan of my surroundings, the brick-paved avenue remained devoid of any passersby. Content with the find, knowing my younger sister's fondness for dolls, I proceeded with my groceries, humming cheerfully in the falling snow. Little did I know that this innocent discovery would alter the course of my life.

Back at home, I presented the doll to my sister, who expressed her joy with a lively dance. Mary, my sibling, spent considerable time with her new companion, whom she named Bria. Witnessing her happiness brought me great satisfaction.

One night, a trip to the kitchen for a drink led me to overhear an unusual conversation between Mary and Bria. Two distinct voices echoed through the walls, perplexing my senses. A discreet peek revealed an inexplicable interaction between the two. The notion of a doll engaging in conversation left me bewildered. Caught off guard by Mary's inquiry, I offered a casual excuse and retreated to my room, facing a sleepless night.

The next day, with Mary at school and myself on a day off, I decided to investigate. Returning to her room, I was troubled to find Bria missing. The house, silent except for my presence and the absent doll, heightened my unease. Despite an exhaustive search, Bria remained elusive until my mother's return. Having been away caring for her sick grandmother, her presence brought relief. Sharing the perplexing events, her reaction was alarming, dropping her handbag and fixing me with a gaze hinting at imminent collapse.

Amid labored breaths, my mother urgently asked about the doll's whereabouts. My feeble response conveyed ongoing efforts. Suddenly, Bria appeared, brandishing a menacing azure knife, each moment accompanied by crimson droplets. An enraged roar filled the air as my mother, quick and determined, doused the doll with water. In a climactic moment, Bria recoiled and vanished, leaving me in profound shock.

Seeking answers, I bombarded my mother with questions. After composing herself, she shared a childhood experience in New York, facing a similar malevolent doll. It turned out she was destined to eradicate the nightmarish entity with water. With Mary's return, we replaced Bria with a benign doll, from a shop, of course, restoring our collective happiness.

Four years have passed, yet the disconcerting incident remains etched in my memories, haunting me day and night.