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Ashley hoped she wasn’t being too creepy as she peered into living room from outside
the window. The living room looked remarkably lived in for the short amount of time
the new neighbors had been occupying the old house. There was no sign of the boy,
however.
Ashley backed away from the window, trying to avoid cutting herself on the
rosebushes that grew thick and full around the front flowerbed. Stumbling back onto
the path, she began to wonder if she should get back on her bike and peddle home.
She could always just pass the evening away on the internet at home. A perennially
shy 11 year old, she had no problem passing the time in her room alone.
Then she thought of the boy.
Specifically, she thought of the loneliness in his eyes as he gazed out of the second
story window every morning and how embarrassed he seemed when he recently
noticed her looking back. She sensed his melancholic loneliness, and found herself
wanting to connect with him. After all, he must have just moved in a few weeks ago
(though she never saw any moving trucks), so he could certainly use a friend.
As could Ashley.
She was the only kid her age on Woodlawn Ave. Well, until the boy moved in. His
house had been empty for as long as Ashley could remember. Everyone just kind of
ignored it – at least the adults did anyways. Teens would hop the fence and smoke in
the overgrown back yard. Ashley tried to spy on them at one point, but Becca Kim
chased her out, saying that the house was haunted.
Ashley hated Becca, but she wasn’t the only one to suggest sinister things about the
old house. Ashley’s baby-sitter said that the Barnes’ were a childess couple that lived
there before Ashley was born. Then one day, they went crazy and killed each other
with kitchen knives. Obviously, Ashley’s parents would not comment on this story.
None of that mattered anymore. The new boy had moved in and something deep
down told Ashley that he could be a friend. Fighting her shyness, she reached out
and tried the doorbell.
Ding. Dong.
No answer. Ashley breathed a sigh of relief as her bashful nature took hold once
more. She could go home now and check up on her YouTube subscriptions.
“You’re the girl that rides by here every morning,” said a timid voice from beyond the
door.
Caught off guard, Ashley shrieked. Apparently, the boy was home.
“Yes,” she said with a start. “I’ve seen you in the window and wanted to welcome you
to the neighborhood.”
“You saw me?” replied the boy in a tone of voice that seemed torn between elation
and fear.
“Uh, yeah,” said Ashley, feeling embarrassed. “You wanna to come out and play?”
The voice on the other side of the door hesitated for what seemed like forever. “I’m
not supposed to go outside right now, but you can come in,” he said surprisingly
cheerfully. “The door’s unlocked.”
Sure enough, the door yielded to her touch, swinging open to reveal a young boy of
roughly her age. Kind of cute, with disheveled hair and rich, dark eyes, he wore
denim shorts and a t-shirt that had something called “The Animaniacs” on it. He
smiled bashfully at her. “It’s great to meet you,” he said. “I’m Cole.”
Awkward introductions soon evolved into cheerful banter. Cole seemed to instantly
like her and they became fast friends. They hung out in the living room, watching his
old VHS tapes of Batman cartoons, played Clue, and ate cookies in the kitchen,
laughing about the proper way to eat an Oreo.
“So do you need someone to show you around town?” asked Ashley, as they relaxed
in the kitchen. “If you’ve got a bike, we can go riding.”
“Oh, I know it pretty well, already,” said Cole, dipping his Oreo into a mug bearing the
initials C.B. “I used to live here when I was young.”
Ashley paused. If he used to live here, why didn’t she see him at school? Suddenly
the awful truth hit her – he must be private schooled. That would explain why he didn’t
seem to have any of the movies or games that were popular with the other kids in her
class.
“So besides watching old cartoons and playing boardgames, what do you do for fun
around here?” asked Ashley.
Cole thought about this for a moment. “I go on the internet,” he said at last.
“Hey,” squealed Ashley, “me too! Are you on YouTube? Do you have a Deviant Art
account? Are you on Facebook?” She paused to catch her breath when she realized
that her steady stream of questions seemed to have caught him off guard. Maybe he
was a little scatterbrained, come to think of it. He constantly seemed to be thinking of
something else.
“I take it you do all those things?” he asked at last.
“Yeah,” she said, a little more restrained. “I also read and write fan fic. Mostly Harry
Potter and Naruto stuff. Hey, have you heard of the Tails Doll?”
“What?”
Now he really did seem confused. His expression was one of pure shock.
“It’s this weird internet legend about a doll that comes out of people’s TVs and kills
them. I found this website that collects stories people send in. QuackerandBowen.
com? I read all the tales up there. Most are lame, but some are pretty scary.”
“I understand now,” murmured Cole. His eyes were wide and his skin seemed slightly
pale.
Noticing this, Ashley felt a bit embarrassed. She must be scaring the poor guy. After
all, private school kids must be easier to scare than normal kids. “Don’t worry,” she
said soothingly. “I don’t think it’s real. I tried this thing they say summons the Doll. It
involved going into the bathroom and playing a weird song. It so didn’t work. “
Cole sighed and picked up the bag of cookies and shuffled off towards the pantry. “I
suppose that explains everything.” His voice was quiet, and wistful, becoming harder
to hear as he walked away.
Suddenly, a searing pain ripped through her back.
White-hot flashes of torment took her by surprise as a kitchen knife plunged into her
back. Screaming, she tried to pull away, but a hand grabbed her shoulder with an
unnaturally firm and icy grip. Ashley struggled to yank free, but only succeeded in
tearing more muscle and sinew as the knife twisted inside of her. Her attacker leaned
in from behind, his face appearing besides her.
It was Cole.
“I should have known,” he croaked. His dark eyes were now pure black. His skin was
ghostly white. Hideous twine stitches crisscrossed his cheeks, like a rag doll stitched
from cadaverous flesh. “You were meant to see me,” he wheezed in a gravelly voice,
“so I could do my master’s will.” With a spray of blood, he ripped the knife from her
back and hurled her to the ground.
Fluids gushing from the gore in her back, Ashley hit the filthy floor with a sickening
thud. Looking up with tear-streamed eyes, Ashley noticed the room in a new light.
Gone was the cozy kitchen she has been snacking in. Finally, she saw the room for
what it was – a derelict and disused wreck. Mounds of dust and dirt were mixing with
her blood to form quickly congealing mud. Rat feces speckled the counters like
wounded soldiers and the paint was mostly flaked off the walls. It was as if no one had
lived in the house for the last fifteen years.
She tried to scream, but could only vomit up blood.
“You’re lucky,” said Cole as he crouched down in front of her. His dark eyes betrayed
what might be genuine sadness. “Your suffering will be over soon, and it will be like
you never existed. I’ll still be here.”
He looked out the smudged and greasy window at the ever-fading sunshine.
“I’ll always be here.”
the window. The living room looked remarkably lived in for the short amount of time
the new neighbors had been occupying the old house. There was no sign of the boy,
however.
Ashley backed away from the window, trying to avoid cutting herself on the
rosebushes that grew thick and full around the front flowerbed. Stumbling back onto
the path, she began to wonder if she should get back on her bike and peddle home.
She could always just pass the evening away on the internet at home. A perennially
shy 11 year old, she had no problem passing the time in her room alone.
Then she thought of the boy.
Specifically, she thought of the loneliness in his eyes as he gazed out of the second
story window every morning and how embarrassed he seemed when he recently
noticed her looking back. She sensed his melancholic loneliness, and found herself
wanting to connect with him. After all, he must have just moved in a few weeks ago
(though she never saw any moving trucks), so he could certainly use a friend.
As could Ashley.
She was the only kid her age on Woodlawn Ave. Well, until the boy moved in. His
house had been empty for as long as Ashley could remember. Everyone just kind of
ignored it – at least the adults did anyways. Teens would hop the fence and smoke in
the overgrown back yard. Ashley tried to spy on them at one point, but Becca Kim
chased her out, saying that the house was haunted.
Ashley hated Becca, but she wasn’t the only one to suggest sinister things about the
old house. Ashley’s baby-sitter said that the Barnes’ were a childess couple that lived
there before Ashley was born. Then one day, they went crazy and killed each other
with kitchen knives. Obviously, Ashley’s parents would not comment on this story.
None of that mattered anymore. The new boy had moved in and something deep
down told Ashley that he could be a friend. Fighting her shyness, she reached out
and tried the doorbell.
Ding. Dong.
No answer. Ashley breathed a sigh of relief as her bashful nature took hold once
more. She could go home now and check up on her YouTube subscriptions.
“You’re the girl that rides by here every morning,” said a timid voice from beyond the
door.
Caught off guard, Ashley shrieked. Apparently, the boy was home.
“Yes,” she said with a start. “I’ve seen you in the window and wanted to welcome you
to the neighborhood.”
“You saw me?” replied the boy in a tone of voice that seemed torn between elation
and fear.
“Uh, yeah,” said Ashley, feeling embarrassed. “You wanna to come out and play?”
The voice on the other side of the door hesitated for what seemed like forever. “I’m
not supposed to go outside right now, but you can come in,” he said surprisingly
cheerfully. “The door’s unlocked.”
Sure enough, the door yielded to her touch, swinging open to reveal a young boy of
roughly her age. Kind of cute, with disheveled hair and rich, dark eyes, he wore
denim shorts and a t-shirt that had something called “The Animaniacs” on it. He
smiled bashfully at her. “It’s great to meet you,” he said. “I’m Cole.”
Awkward introductions soon evolved into cheerful banter. Cole seemed to instantly
like her and they became fast friends. They hung out in the living room, watching his
old VHS tapes of Batman cartoons, played Clue, and ate cookies in the kitchen,
laughing about the proper way to eat an Oreo.
“So do you need someone to show you around town?” asked Ashley, as they relaxed
in the kitchen. “If you’ve got a bike, we can go riding.”
“Oh, I know it pretty well, already,” said Cole, dipping his Oreo into a mug bearing the
initials C.B. “I used to live here when I was young.”
Ashley paused. If he used to live here, why didn’t she see him at school? Suddenly
the awful truth hit her – he must be private schooled. That would explain why he didn’t
seem to have any of the movies or games that were popular with the other kids in her
class.
“So besides watching old cartoons and playing boardgames, what do you do for fun
around here?” asked Ashley.
Cole thought about this for a moment. “I go on the internet,” he said at last.
“Hey,” squealed Ashley, “me too! Are you on YouTube? Do you have a Deviant Art
account? Are you on Facebook?” She paused to catch her breath when she realized
that her steady stream of questions seemed to have caught him off guard. Maybe he
was a little scatterbrained, come to think of it. He constantly seemed to be thinking of
something else.
“I take it you do all those things?” he asked at last.
“Yeah,” she said, a little more restrained. “I also read and write fan fic. Mostly Harry
Potter and Naruto stuff. Hey, have you heard of the Tails Doll?”
“What?”
Now he really did seem confused. His expression was one of pure shock.
“It’s this weird internet legend about a doll that comes out of people’s TVs and kills
them. I found this website that collects stories people send in. QuackerandBowen.
com? I read all the tales up there. Most are lame, but some are pretty scary.”
“I understand now,” murmured Cole. His eyes were wide and his skin seemed slightly
pale.
Noticing this, Ashley felt a bit embarrassed. She must be scaring the poor guy. After
all, private school kids must be easier to scare than normal kids. “Don’t worry,” she
said soothingly. “I don’t think it’s real. I tried this thing they say summons the Doll. It
involved going into the bathroom and playing a weird song. It so didn’t work. “
Cole sighed and picked up the bag of cookies and shuffled off towards the pantry. “I
suppose that explains everything.” His voice was quiet, and wistful, becoming harder
to hear as he walked away.
Suddenly, a searing pain ripped through her back.
White-hot flashes of torment took her by surprise as a kitchen knife plunged into her
back. Screaming, she tried to pull away, but a hand grabbed her shoulder with an
unnaturally firm and icy grip. Ashley struggled to yank free, but only succeeded in
tearing more muscle and sinew as the knife twisted inside of her. Her attacker leaned
in from behind, his face appearing besides her.
It was Cole.
“I should have known,” he croaked. His dark eyes were now pure black. His skin was
ghostly white. Hideous twine stitches crisscrossed his cheeks, like a rag doll stitched
from cadaverous flesh. “You were meant to see me,” he wheezed in a gravelly voice,
“so I could do my master’s will.” With a spray of blood, he ripped the knife from her
back and hurled her to the ground.
Fluids gushing from the gore in her back, Ashley hit the filthy floor with a sickening
thud. Looking up with tear-streamed eyes, Ashley noticed the room in a new light.
Gone was the cozy kitchen she has been snacking in. Finally, she saw the room for
what it was – a derelict and disused wreck. Mounds of dust and dirt were mixing with
her blood to form quickly congealing mud. Rat feces speckled the counters like
wounded soldiers and the paint was mostly flaked off the walls. It was as if no one had
lived in the house for the last fifteen years.
She tried to scream, but could only vomit up blood.
“You’re lucky,” said Cole as he crouched down in front of her. His dark eyes betrayed
what might be genuine sadness. “Your suffering will be over soon, and it will be like
you never existed. I’ll still be here.”
He looked out the smudged and greasy window at the ever-fading sunshine.
“I’ll always be here.”