Ghost Stories

A couple of weeks ago, I found an old, creepy voodoo doll upstairs in my attic. And I thought it was pretty cool. I decided to keep it. The next morning, I woke up to get ready for school, and I totally remember putting the doll on my desk. It was right there.

When I got home, though, the doll was downstairs in my little sister's room. When she found out, she screamed and my mom and I ran downstairs to find her hiding in the corner. I carefully took the voodoo doll back up my room, wedging it behind the desk.

After two days, it happened again. But the doll ended up in a different place: this time, it was back in the attic. I didn't know what to do; I was creeped out. This time, the doll had a couple of pins jammed in it and there was a note pinned on the head.

"Dear Alix, here's what you're gonna do. In your closet, there is a suitcase. In the suitcase, you will find a little box full of photos. Look at them carefully, then bring the suitcase down to the basement and tape ALL of the photos to the walls. After that, turn off all of the lights downstairs and turn on ONE flashlight. Look around and close the curtains."

As I finished reading, I heard a loud scream. Freaking out, I ran upstairs to find both my mom and sister dead in the living room. I screamed and called my dad. He rushed home.

Once I reached my room, I was full of rage. I snatched up the doll and chucked it out the window. Five days later, my family came over for the funeral, and one of my cousins found the doll. I panicked, thinking more deaths would happen, so I grabbed the doll and ran to the graveyard in the dead of night with a shovel. I frantically started to dig. I threw the stupid doll into the hole and buried it under so many layers of dirt and rocks that I lost count.

And that was the end of the creepy voodoo doll.

I hope.