the legend of...

the doll

Pdv: me

A young mother living with her 8 year old daughter spent a fine day in front of a shop of old toys. Attracted by the original storefront, feeling nostalgic, she pushed open the wooden door and tinkled the bells of the entrance. An old man with an embittered air was watching him. She walked down the paths where wooden horses, miniature trains and all kinds of gadgets were worshiped by the children. Behind the counter a box of glass suddenly intrigued him. Inside was a collection doll, in her blue night dress and her little lace vest. The object seemed old and expensive. She questioned the old man behind the box on his price. With a feeble smile hesitating, he announced a perfectly correct offer that she accepted, happy to have done such a good deal, and certain to please her daughter. As she went through the wooden door to get out, the old man said, "Above all, do not take her out of her box at night." These words had worried the young woman who decided that the salesperson should be a little senile, and that she was not going to spoil her child's joy by giving her these ridiculous instructions. On returning home, she handed the box to the little girl, who was glad to receive this surprise. However, the old man's words resounded in Mamma's head, and as a precaution (she was a very superstitious woman) she told her daughter to put her doll in the box every night and leave it at the bottom of the stairs . She nodded and went off to play with. In the evening, the little girl followed her mother's instructions about her doll, and went to bed. In the night she was awakened. Someone was talking. She stretched her ear to the door of her room to identify the voice she heard. It was a small, scathing voice, almost whispering. By concentrating a little more, she managed to discern the words spoken ... "I'm on the first step. I'm on the second step. I'm on the third step. " She was frightened, like all the children of her age - the reflex of running into her mother's room, who invited her to sleep with her but who said it was the last time, the girl being subject to many Nocturnal fright. She reassured her by telling her that the voice was only in her head, then they went back to sleep together. The next evening, at the same hour, his sleep was again disturbed by the same scathing little voice. "I'm on the fourth step. I'm on the fifth step. I'm on the sixth step. " Hiding under the sheets of her trembling hands, she found it hard to go back to sleep. The following evening, it was the same song. "I'm on the seventh step. I'm on the eighth step. I'm in the ninth step. " Persuaded that this slender voice was that of her new doll, she checked the next day where her toy was. She spoke to her mother, who explained to him, with a sigh, that no, a doll could not speak, and that she was in the same place where she had stowed it the night before: in her box at the bottom of the staircase . The next night, the phenomenon was repeated. "I'm on the tenth step. I'm on the landing. " The little girl held her breath. "I am before your door." The little girl drew her sheet over her eyes. "I'm down your bed." " The girl felt her limbs stiffen and her heart pounded. "I'm very close to you. " The sheet flew away and the doll was there on the mattress, with a big knife.