Horror

Cracked Heads

An Original Story: Fiction

By Gwen and Lana

Clover looked at the basement door. The open basement door. She didn't know why it was open. It was never open. In fact, she didn't believe she had ever seen it open. And she would much rather have it closed. She wished someone would close that door and lock it like usual, because if she went to close it...it would be too tempting to go down to the basement. All her life her parents had always told her to never go down into the basement, no matter what. They had never told Clover why, they had told her to never even think about the basement. But the door was wide open, inviting her to disobey her parents to just take a peek at what they didn't want her to see.

Beyond the basement door was nothing but darkness, but not intimidating darkness. It was just...darkness. Clover was alone. It wouldn't be that hard to sneak down and find her way back up without anyone knowing she was ever down there. Clover walked toward the basement slowly. One part of her, the part of her that wanted to listen to her parents, kept telling her to close the door and never get anywhere near the basement again. The other part of her, the part that was dangerously curious, kept telling her taking a quick look around wouldn't hurt.

Her curiosity won. So when she got to the door, she left it open, and took her first steps into the basement.

The basement was dark, pitch black. Her footsteps echoed off the walls. It felt more like a dungeon than a basement. The stairs seemed to go on forever. Then she finally reached the bottom. There was a faint glow from a candle in the corner. She saw it was actually a dungeon. Perfect. She had a dungeon in her basement. She heard the drip drip drip of water that echoed off the walls. She could barely see anything. She felt around with her hands when she felt something sticky.

"Eww!"

Clover pulled her hand back and it felt all slimy. She didn't want to know what she just put her hand in. Just thinking about it made her shudder. But there more important things to think about. Like, WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD HER PARENTS HIDE A DUNGEON WITH WEIRD STICKY STUFF IN THE BASEMENT?

Clover was about to go back upstairs because the place gave her the creeps when she saw something strange on a shelf in the corner. She walked toward it. She couldn't tell what it was so she grabbed the candle, the only light in the basement/dungeon, and held it up to the shelf.

Clover saw an old doll sitting on the shelf. Correction: she saw dolls. Plural. And they all were seriously messed up. They had clumps of hair missing. Body parts missing. And every single one of them had cracked heads. They had fungus growing on them. Clover reached up and grabbed one of the dolls.

"What happened to you?" Clover asked aloud.

"Exactly what's gonna happen to you."

Clover dropped the doll and turned around to see another doll floating with it's hand on her shoulder. Clover screamed. She dropped the candle and it went out. Now she was trapped with a creepy doll in pitch black darkness. The doll grabbed her hair and knocked her to the floor. Clover thrashed, but the doll held her tight. The doll clawed her. Clover screamed. The doll made a weird sound and Clover felt more porcelain hands tug at her. Clover screamed once again. Then she felt a weird sensation in her chest.

A felling that made it hard to breathe. A feeling that all her emotions, her feelings, her thoughts, were being stripped away. The dolls laughed. And Clover felt more of her being stripped away by the dolls. One of the dolls poked her in the eye.

"Oww!"

Then, by some miracle, the candlelight came back. The dolls seemed surprised and their grip slackened. Clover took that moment to escape. She kicked the dolls and started running toward the stairs. She felt the dolls chasing her, trying to grab her. But she didn't look back. She ran all the way upstairs and slammed the door behind her. She turned around and locked it. But she didn't hear pounding on the door or any sounds at all. The basement was silent, just like before.

When her parents got home she acted normal, even though that felt like the hardest thing in the world. Did her parents know about the killer dolls in the dungeon basement? They had to, right? But what kind of crazy people keep evil soul-sucking dolls in their dungeon basement? Actually, the fact they had a dungeon basement might be enough to answer that question.

Her parents didn't seem to notice her strange behavior or how nervous she got every time someone walked past the basement door. When she went to bed that night she was almost convinced that the whole creepy doll thing was a dream. Almost. She fell asleep quickly, tired from the exhausting day.

While Clover was sleeping she heard a voice.

"Clover....Clover...."

The voice sounded like a child's and echoed off the walls. Which reminded her of the basement's echoes.

"Clover....come and play."

That voice sounded oddly familiar. Just like the doll's in the basement. Clover opened her eyes.

"DOLL!" Clover screamed.

Clover couldn't quite tell in the darkness of the night but the doll appeared to....smirk.

"Come join us, Clover," the dolls insisted.

Clover noticed that there were floating dolls surrounding her bed. All of them getting closer, reaching out for her. They started tugging at her again. Except this time their hands felt like fire.

"STOP! STOP! GO AWAY!" Clover shrieked.

Clover felt that feeling again. Like she was being whisked away into endless nothingness. Clover couldn't breathe. Everything became distant...except the pain and the dolls' evil laughter.

"NO!" Clover screamed. "STOP IT!"

Just then Clover heard footsteps burst into the room. She closed her eyes preparing for something terrible to happen.

"Honey, why are you screaming?!"

The pain stopped. Were the dolls still there? Clover opened her eyes. It was only her parents.

"What's wrong?" her father asked.

Clover looked around. The dolls weren't there anymore. None were floating around, tugging at her, or even lifeless on the floor. But Clover was still terrified.

"Clover?"

Clover looked at her parents.

"Did something happen?" her mother questioned.

"There....there were....the dolls....they....they," Clover stuttered.

Her mother sad down next to her on her bed.

"It was just a nightmare, sweetie," Clover's mother reassured her.

But Clover didn't believe it. Nightmares didn't make you feel pain. Nightmares didn't leave you feeling empty inside. Nightmares didn't give you bruises either....

"Clover, listen to me," her mother demanded. "IT WAS A NIGHTMARE. Nothing else."

Clover nodded. Her parents weren't going to believe her. Does that mean they don't even know about the dolls in the basement?

Clover's mother kissed her head.

"Good night," Clover's father said, as he and his wife walked out of Clover's room.

"Get a good night's sleep," her mother added, right before she closed the door.

But Clover didn't get a good night's sleep. She stayed up all night. She was scared if she fell asleep again the dolls would come to get her. She kept a baseball bat by her side in case she needed to whack the evil smiles right off those dolls' faces.

The next morning Clover was very tired. She hadn't slept at all since the doll attack. Clover yawned so much she could barely eat her breakfast. And then she had school. SCHOOL. Ugh. How was she ever going to focus if she had creepy soul - sucking dolls on her mind? She was so tired it was a struggle to keep her eyes open.

By the time school was over Clover had gotten a 37% on her social studies test, got caught sleeping in class twice, and sent to the principal's office for getting caught sleeping in class. Fourth grade sucked. Clover was also super jumpy. Every time something moved suddenly or talked even close to that creepy doll's voice she jumped out of her skin. When it was time for bed Clover was so exhausted she forgot about the dolls and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

In the middle of the night Clover heard giggling. She thought it was just part of a dream until she felt cold porcelain hands touch her skin. Clover's whole body went cold. She couldn't think. She couldn't seem to be able to say anything. All she could seem to do was scream and thrash as the dolls tugged at her. With every second the dolls' attack lasted, the stronger they seemed to get. The longer the doll's held on, the more pain Clover felt. Clover felt like her brain was being ripped right from her skull.

Clover let out a shrill scream. She looked right into one of the dolls' eyes and regretted it. It was just empty eye sockets. Just holes of darkness. Empty, lifeless. Just how Clover felt. She thrashed and fought. But the dolls were too strong. She tried to pull away, but it was useless.

What were the dolls doing to her? The room was total darkness. All she could see were the dolls piercing stares. All she could hear was their evil laughter. All she could feel was the searing pain everywhere the dolls touched. And Clover knew there were no parents to save her this time. The dolls pulled her into an endless oblivion of pain. Every inch of her ached. She couldn't focus. She couldn't feel. She couldn't think.

Clover could only yell, "HELP!"

Then everything went black.

The next morning Clover felt fine. Just different. She didn't feel the pain she had felt the night before. She could think again. She just felt different. She couldn't quite describe it. Like an empty hole inside her. Like she was just there, not actually there. That didn't make much sense. But she felt good. Clover reached up and touched her forehead. She felt something different there....a crack. But when she removed her hand from her face she didn't see any blood. Clover looked around the dungeon-like basement once again, sitting on the shelf in the corner, watching, waiting, for the next victim to come down to the basement. To come down to the basement....and end up with a cracked head.