Haunted Childhood

A doll was given to me as a gift when I was 6. She's haunted me ever since.

she stood at three feet tall

with shoulder length glossy blonde locks

cherry colored lips & flushed cheeks

her teeth frosted white

a fraud

an absurd smile never to tarnish

when left alone she shifted

the slightest expressions

she’d whisper

“i know that you know”

muttering meant to terrify

arms up

arms down

plastic stature

nobody else took note

in my nightmares she preyed

creeping down the hall to my bedroom

hovering above my head

her face mangled

a reminder that she wasn’t a toy

freed from her packaging

i became her victim

i put her underground

in the damp basement

the next day she was in the livingroom

i climbed the ladder to the attic

dragging her by the hair

i threw her as far as my child sized arms would allow

the next day she was in my bed

her head resting on my pillow

eyes fixated on me

soaking in the shock

her smile grew wider

i smiled back

tomorrow was trash day

& i retrieved the box of thick black bags stored in the garage

i dismembered her

placed her inside

& sealed it with a double knot

at twilight i skipped to the curb with her remains

leaving her outside to perish

i went back to the warmth of my pink quilt

& waited for sleep to pull me under

yanked from a dream the next morning with a thump

arms where legs should be

legs slumped at her side

“i know that you know”

Pamela Gold 2015