One month during winter break I went to stay with my uncle along with my sister. My Uncle had a doll in a glass case that he had ever since I could remember. It was a white porcelain doll with red curly hair and black eyes, it always creeped me out.
My uncle always acted different when he was at his home than he did away from home. I never knew why until that week. My uncle, whose name was Oliver, seemed to talk to himself a lot when he was in his home, but he would talk like he was talking to someone else. My sister and I just shrugged it off, thinking it was normal for someone to have a short conversation with themselves about nothing, although it was way more often than anything usual.
Oliver seemed to always be angry when he would talk to himself. Or, whatever he was talking to. My sister and I never bothered him when he was like this, having no idea what he would do if we did. We had told our parents about the strange behavior over the phone but they acted as if we were making fun of him, when in reality we were a bit terrified.
One day we went out ice skating, and by the time we got back to the house it was dark, around 7:30-8:00p.m. and we had forgotten to turn any lights on in the house, so each of us went into a room to cut on lights, I had the living room, where the doll was. If you were wondering, he name was Elizabeth. When I walked into the room the first thing I saw was Elizabeth, her eyes looking as if she was crying black tears. I flipped the lights on quickly and she looked normal, as if what I had seen was just a shadow or something, but when I turned to switch on the television, I glanced back at the doll, and it happened again. Crying black tears out of pitch black eyes. I screamed for my uncle to come see her, but when he got in there she was already back to normal. I tried to explain what I had seen and he looked momentarily horrified, saying “she’s jealous. I’m spending more time with you than with her.” I didn’t know what to think. Was he saying the doll was alive? That couldn’t be right.
The next night, a night or two before my sister and I were supposed to go back home. It was already dark outside as we had begun eating dinner. My Uncle Oliver was still in the kitchen fixing a few things and cleaning up stuff as my sister and I started eating. While I was eating I looked out the window and seemed to see a black and white face, no color, just black and white with the black tears running from pitch black eyes and a wide joker like smile, only to flicker away. I looked over at my sister and asked her if she saw that, she shook her head and said no. Only seconds later we both practically jumped out of our seats as we heard our uncle started yelling and screaming at nothing, only to soon see Elizabeth. She was at least 12 feet tall, somehow, I don’t know how, but she was. She seemed to be laughing, but also crying. My sister and I scramble underneath the table to hide, looking out to see what was going on. We both regret that. Elizabeth picked up our uncle and ripped him in half, blood splattering all over the kitchen. We both screamed in horror, causing her to look in our direction. My sister and I immediately ran outside in the rain to get away from her. When we got to the road we found a police officer and had him call our mom. He took us back to the house to get our things. When we got there, she was gone. Not in the glass case, no where. To this day no one knows where she is. So watch out, she might find you next.
