Titleless

By Tamia Ruiz Stannah, Grade 9

Rinnggggg sounds the school bell. I pack up my books and get up, slinging my bag over one shoulder. Everyone was shoving and pushing to get out for the weekend. I am surrounded by a frenzy of arms and angry students throwing profanity at others. I get lost in a world of stenchy, sweaty kids. After a few agonizing minutes, being squashed and shoved down the hall in a wave of students to the front door, I emerged into the fresh, bliss afternoon air. Freedom!

Just as I reached my bike, Mrs. Warner called out, “OWEN ANDERSON!! IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, WE NEED YOU IN THE OFFICE AT ONCE!!” And that’s me. The kid who’s always getting in trouble. “I REPEAT, OWEN ANDERSON, COME TO THE OFFICE THIS INSTANT!” God, her voice was like a pesky, irritating mosquito in your ear. Constantly buzzing and you can never manage to squash it.

Reluctantly I plodded back up the concrete stairs to the front hall of the school. The gossip girls grinned mockingly and Tina said “What’s wrong Owen, wanna run home to cry to your mommy?” she started laughing hysterically at her own attempt at a joke. It sounded like a mix between a dying cow and pig snorts. Disgusting. My ordeal just got worse as the Jocks appeared.

“Wait where’s Owen? I swear I saw him a minute ago.” Kevin the leader of the pack put his hand to his head and did a 360 turn then looked down and laughed. “Oh there you are shrimpy. Didn’t see you from all the way up here.” He and his companions laughed and pushed me out the way with their shoulders, strutting down the stairs as though they owned the place.

After what seemed like an eternity, my legs aching and heavy as lead, I reached the top step. A cold wisp of wind exploded in my face. “Owen you have detention today, remember?” Mrs. Warner grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards the office. “You will stay here until 4:45”. She waddled off to her office like a hippopotamus, a big bully. I sat down on the warped wooden chair in the corner of the room, nervously looking at the ticking clock.

I sat.
And sat.
And sat for what felt like hours. Days. Weeks. Months.Years.

Finally the clock struck 4:45. I got up without a word and ran towards the school doors. All was quiet, apart from the occasional swoosh of a broom as the janitor swept the hall, and the jangling of the wind chimes from Mr. Adams room. My bike was toppled over near the bike stand and fresh spray paint sprayed on, “Later Looser!” but the “Loser” was spelt with two oos.

Those morons. “Why is it always me!” I shouted, kicking the graffiti stained bike angrily. I pedaled furiously and nearly toppled over as I approached the forest, my route home.

Trees. They’re all I see for miles, exploding with yellow and orange leaves of autumn. I must get through by 5:00pm. As legend says, that is when the spirits come and roam the forest for twelve hours. I inhale, close my eyes, exhale, open my eyes. Time to go. Dried leaves and decaying roots under my speeding wheels, making crunch crunch crunch sounds. I hear the occasional sway and whine of the trees in the wind. I smell fresh earth and vines tickle my skin. 5 minutes to go.

I was almost there when I heard a loud crack and stop dead in my tracks. The wind picked up, blowing hair in my face. I turn around, hoping it was just my imagination. No such luck. I felt an unsettling feeling of someone staring at me. Someone or something said, “Hello. Not many people come to visit us at this time.” The words slurred together and the voice was rough and high pitched. “It’s nice of you to j-j-j-join us.” it giggled. My jaw dropped and I tumbled off my bike. A slightly transparent pale little girl had appeared in front of me, her pigtails were messy, brown hair sticking out everywhere. Her blue eyes stared vacantly. An old rag doll with a very dirty yellow dress was clutched in her muddy hand. The voice was peculiar, too ragged and squeaky for a little girl. There was a moment of silence before “Can you play with us?” She held out her doll and I almost jumped out of my skin. Stifling a little shriek, I slowly shook my head. The creepy doll had missing eyes and the sewing on the seams was coming undone. Inside the doll, the stuffing was rotting and crawling with maggots. “Play with us.” the voice repeated becoming more demanding, as the girl pushed the doll towards me. Only then I noticed something very unsettling. The doll’s mouth was moving! The creepy voice was coming from THE DOLL!!! The doll’s head rotated awkwardly towards me, “Play with us now!” The girl held a tight grip on the doll. Her eyes were distant and looked distraught.

I managed to stutter a few words: “L-l-listen. I-I-I need to go home. My m-moms expecting me for s-s-supper.”

The doll’s laugh was like sandpaper. “You’re not going ANYWHERE until you play with us.” I struggled for a minute to snap off a branch and hold it in front of me as protection. I saw a look of fear in the little girl’s eyes as she whispered “Please help me.” I could barely hear the words she spoke but instinctively, I swung the stick all the way back, and knocked the doll out of the girl’s hand. All my anger and frustration of the day bursted out as I swung my weapon. The head flew off into the trees, the limp body dropped to the ground. The wind grew deathly still and the trees stopped rustling.

Fearfully, I looked at the girl. “I know she is not gone yet.” She whispered.

Just as those words escaped her ghostly lips, there was a laugh that sent a shiver up my spine. “HUMANS ARE SO FOOLISH!” The doll’s booming voice came back louder. Suddenly, her head appeared right next to my left foot.

I jumped up and shrieked. “The girl has to kill me! Not you!” Now I felt nauseous. The girl’s eyes widened as the doll’s body found her head and reconnected to it. Just before the doll turned back, the girl surprised both me and the doll. She stomped so hard on it that the head popped off again and it went flying in the opposite direction. This time, the doll screamed in frustration and the body disintegrated. The girl’s eyes were full of glistening tears about to fall like rain droplets on rose petals. She looked up at me.

“Thank you.” Was all she said as she backed away slowly, still facing me as she melted into the forest where she came from.
Oddly, I was no longer afraid. I had helped vanquish a demon doll, and on Monday I would return to school braver and ready to stand up to the bullies.