The Gypsy Curse

Running for her life Emma pushed tree limbs out of her way.  The boys were right behind her.

          “Come back here you thieving little gypsy whore!”  

Tripping on a tree root she fell skinning her hands and knees.  Ignoring the sting she scrambled to her feet, but one of the boys caught her ankle and drug her back to the ground.   Screaming for help she struggled against him.

 “Wake up Emma, you’re having a nightmare.”

Emma’s eyes flew open and found herself in her sleeping bag covered with sweat; her friends staring at her.

“That must have been some nightmare,” said Olivia.

 “It was so real,” she panted, “these boys were chasing me through the woods.  They were going to kill me. That’s the last time I let you guys talk me into telling ghost stories.”

                “It wasn’t that scary,” said Chloe.

                “I’ll never be able to look at another china doll as long as I live,” proclaimed  Emma. 

                “Me either.  Dolls creep me out to begin with; just the thought of one being possessed by an evil spirit gives me the heebie—jeebies,” Sophia said with a shutter running through her body.

“Emma!” her mother’s voice echoed through the house.

 “Breakfast is ready!”

Walking through the house the smell of bacon and eggs hit Emma making her stomach growl. Heading toward the kitchen she sees her Aunt Rose sitting at the kitchen table warming her hands around a cup of coffee.

“Emma,” she beamed at her. “Come see your Aunt Rose.” Holding up a medium sized box wrapped in shiny pink and silver paper with a huge pink bow tied in the center.  “I know your birthday isn’t till next week, but I saw this and felt compelled to buy it for you.”  Before handing Emma the present she engulfed her in a big hug, the overly sweet scent of Aunt Rose’s perfume forced her to swallow hard to keep from gagging. 

Emma began ripping the paper off the gift as her friends gathered around her.  Suppressing a scream she nervously showed the girls her gift; a china doll. 

“Oh look how beautiful,” her mother exclaimed. 

Looking down at the gypsy china doll the taunts of the boys in her dream echo through her head.  An elbow to the shoulder jolted her out of her thoughts as her mother prodded her to thank her Aunt for the gift. 

“Aunt Rose, it’s just so beautiful and unexpected I don’t know what to say.”

“I had this irresistible urge to go into this old antique store.  I walked straight to her.  It was the weirdest thing, almost like she was calling to me.”

“Well,” Emma’s mother said, “I know the perfect place to put her.  On your night stand by your bed.  She will look beautiful there.”

***

Climbing into bed that night Emma stared at the doll.  There was no way she was going to be able to sleep with that doll there.  Every time she closed her eyes she could almost feel it staring at her, just waiting for her to sleep so it could pounce on her.    

Ok this is ridiculous. I am not 5 years old.  I was just a stupid story.  Dolls do not come to life.  Dolls do not kill people in their sleep.

Rolling over Emma pulled the covers up over her shoulders and closed her eyes determined to fall asleep.  

The noise was soft; scratching.  Holding her breath, Emma listened.  This time it was louder, closer.  The feeling of something hovering over her sent chills down her spine and when she felt the warm breath on her cheek she screamed.

“Jesus Emma.” Her mother exclaimed, holding her hand over her heart.  “You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry Mom.  You scared me.”

“Well I think you just took a few years off my life.” Her mother leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Sweet dreams.” She muttered as she closed the door behind her.

Emma sat in bed staring at the doll.   I’m just going to put it in the closet. Grabbing the doll she dropped It on the floor, stared at it a moment, opened the trunk in the back of her closet and crammed it in. Better safe than sorry, she muttered to herself as she climbed back into bed.

***

Running for her life Emma pushed tree limbs out of her way.  The boys were right behind her.

“Come back here you thieving little gypsy whore!” 

Tripping on a tree root she fell skinning her hands and knees.  Ignoring the stinging pain she scrambled to her feet, but one of the boys caught her ankle and drug her back to the ground.   Screaming for help she struggled against him.

Straddling her waist, one of the boys pinned her to the ground.  The dampness of the earth and leaves soaked through her clothing as she struggled, searching for anything that might free her.  Coming across a rock she palmed it and brought it up toward the boys head, smashing it against his ear.  He fell backward but was quickly replaced by another boy.

  “I think this little gypsy bitch needs to be taught a lesson.”  Leering at her he began to raise up her skirt. 

Bucking him off, she struggled to her knees, but was pulled backward.  Her fingers clawed at the earth trying to get away.  The first fist to the face caused stars to burst behind her eyes.  After the fifth her body went numb and she stopped counting.  Ascending into blackness she stopped struggling, stopped feeling the cold and stopped caring.

 Peace surrounded her as she heard a familiar voice yelling.  Her head was cradled in someone’s lap as words of comfort where whispered to her in a language she did not understand while another voice boomed in the distance. 

“You did this to my granddaughter.  You with your hate. You with your prejudice.  You believe that nothing can touch you.  But you will be touched. For this act you will suffer.  A gift will come to the first daughter in each of your generations. Through this gift they will suffer just as my beautiful granddaughter suffered.  They will die knowing what you did to my granddaughter.  They will die knowing that you caused her death.  They will die knowing that you caused their death.”

 Opening her eyes, for the last time, Emma looked up to find the doll on her dresser; as the last breath left her body, a grin spread across its face.