I happened to stumble across an old book, but it’s not just any old book its a dark musky black diary covered in black lace and the spine appears to have suffered considerable damage. Now what I am about to tell you is a story I am not sure if it is true or not so don’t go asking me. This is just what I pieced together from all of the pages in said diary.
The only date entry seems to be February 14th 1955.
There lived in this big beautiful house a little girl and her father. The little girl enjoyed playing in the garden in front of the house, it had huge pearl gates a beautiful white wall stretching all around the house. The grass was tenderly looked after and around the grass were beautiful yellow and white flowers, they would give off a very beautiful scent the kind of scent that reminds you of summer.
The little girl and her father also had a maid who the little girl looked up to as a mother figure, you see the little girl’s mother had passed away during the birth of the little girl. This little girl also had a name just like you and I, her name was Violet. The name was given to her as her mother’s favourite flowers were in fact Violets.
Violet was 8 years old when her father took a business trip leaving her with the maid. The maid was called Maryanne and she loved Violet just the same as Violet loved her, they were more a less best friends always braiding each others hair and even making flower crowns for one another. Maryanne of course had a schedule to go by but would always have Violet at her side helping her out.
Weeks had passed and it was leading up to Violet’s birthday, her father came back home the day before to make sure that he did not miss it. When Violet woke up the next day she ran to her Dad and hugged him. Upon which he hugged her back and wished her a happy birthday presenting her with a small marionette doll. Violet looked at the doll and instantly fell in love with it, she took it everywhere she went even to school. The other kids would laugh at her and even attempt to steal her doll but Violet was clever and would never part with it. The teachers would often tell her off for holding it during lesson but Violet insisted on keeping hold of it.
One night during a very big storm Violet awoke from the sound of Thunder crackling just outside of her window. She was terrified and Ran down the hall, each footstep she took the flash of lightning would follow through the windows beaming shadows onto the walls. Violet hid inside a closet and was found by her father the next morning who asked why she was hiding. Violet told her father about the storm but he insisted they did not have one and that Violet was imagining it. Violet was confused but the smell of breakfast quickly made her forget.
Three months had passed and 9 year old Violet remembered the storm that night, for no apparent reason she just remembered it like a terrifying nightmare. Violet Squinted at the thought to which Maryanne then comforted her. That night another storm occurred, Violet again ran down the hall to cupboard to which she could hide in. Though this night was different compared to that night months ago. Something seemed off about this particular night, along with the bangs of thunder were also the sounds of people shouting. It was Violet’s father and Maryanne.
Violet opened the cupboard door a little but not too much, just enough so the lightning could not get her like a hungry monster from a child’s nightmare. Violet could see Maryanne walk by the door, she could not make out what was being said. Suddenly her father approached Maryanne, there was a loud crash and a faint whimper. The sound of a gun went off jolting Violet with a startle. Then there was silence. The storm had passed so Violet crept out of the cupboard only to be greeted by a big dark hand emerging from behind the door. It was Violet’s father he told her not to move, Violets eyes glanced at the body of Maryanne laying in a pool of her own blood then at the gun in her father’s hand. Violet’s father looked at her with disappointment. He whispered to her that he had told her not to move, he tutted at her then took her by the arm.
By this time Violet’s eyes began to well up with tears. Her father back handed her across the face with such force that she landed on the other side of the room next to her favourite doll. Violet’s father became so enraged he picked Violet up by the hair and punched her in the face 12 times. Violet’s face became unrecognisable from the bruises, bumps and gashes all over her face. Violet kept thinking to herself if she had done something wrong. Violet got up off the floor and went to run her father blocked the exit, he looked at her with eyes that of somebody possessed. He picked her up by the throat and launched her back over near the doll, that was when the sound of the gun caused Ringing in Violet’s ears. She looked down at her stomach to see a pool of blood pour out, she grabbed her doll and held onto it tightly smothering it in her own blood. A single tear ran down Violet’s beaten face and onto the doll, her grip loosened and the doll fell onto the floor.
Three years later after disposing of evidence and sending the authorities off the radar Violet’s father sat at home, drinking his alcohol and drowning his sorrows. He suddenly heard giggling and the sound of tiny feet running along the floor upstairs, He staggered up to investigate. He heard the muffled voice of a little girl repetitively repeating “one two I’m gonna kill you, three four your blood on the floor” followed by giggling. He looked everywhere but could not find where it was coming from. Just as he was about to proceed down the stair he felt a shove on the back of his leg causing him to tumble down the stairs, there was a loud snapping sound. It was his neck Violet’s father had died instantly, his lifeless corpse with a twisted neck lay at the bottom of the stairs. A small Marionette doll the one given to Violet was sat perched on the top of the stairs.
I have found this old doll along with the diary, the doll has an eye missing but is in good condition however recently the doll has gone missing. I found my dog heavily mutilated in the back of my garden. Is the doll alive? I’ll let you decide…