1: Changes in life

When I think of my childhood, one word can sum it up: change. Change was the only thing that I knew that would stay the same, to never expect for it to stay the same. From knowing everyone and being well liked to knowing no one and being a nobody.

Having a loving home to it being torn apart and having to choose who you will stay with. From being happy to the verge of letting the angel of death kiss my lips and placing me to an eternal rest.

Since my life was used to change, I adapted quickly to what happened to me. I stayed with my mother but visited my father. I kept a small group that I was close to me but not close enough so I wouldn't fall apart if they later hated me. And I had my reasons as well, if I got too close to someone, I would end up loosing them. It was a frightening experience, to have someone you treasure and letting them slip from your hands, whether or not it was on purpose. Those moments when you realize what you have done still frighten me to this day. Yet these experiences weren't that bad compared to what I used to witness as a child, the only things that remained constant for years.

The only thing that I never got used to was when I would witness some human-like dolls. In the beginning I was often scolded at for pointing at them and saying cruel things, I didn't know back then that others didn't notice the hollow eyes and black threads around them, but I learned to keep my mouth shut. Over time I learned that it didn't matter to them what I said. They called it the ramblings of an overimaginated child, but some people thought otherwise.

I remember when a cop found me crying one day and I told him what I saw due to fear, mostly because the doll I saw was following me. He took me to my parents and a few weeks later, he came back to tell them that the man who followed me ended up in jail. I continued to talk to him until another one of the dolls killed him, a few months later I moved from Peru to the United States. I would continue to see the dolls until I was ten when a doll attacked me. My family said it was a relative but I wouldn't believe them every time I would see his souless, black eyes.

One day when I was alone he attacked and hurt me, I wanted to hide and I hated myself for being helpless. It would continue until I decided to fight back, and at that moment everything would become black, but I would hear a comforting voice that would say, “Everything will be alright,” and it did. I moved again but this time there were no dolls that appeared or tried to hurt me. Yet I felt alone, even though I recovered from the frightening experiences it still hurt without hearing the comforting voice. Sometimes I would pray for the return of the voice to feel better, little did I know of what was going to come.

Author's Note

I decided to rewrite most of the stories I was working on, so please give reviews as that would help me a lot. Thank you