The story of a terrible, ill-fated friendship - told through both the sensible, sane eyes of Annabelle White and the twisted, unhinged mind of Alexander Markey.

Today was too bright. Why did the sun shine so bright? It should be darker.

There was a girl walking next to me. She was mine. I already knew I was good at getting them, I had owned other girlfriends before. Today though, she wasn't happy so she just kept talking and talking and talking.

'Are you sure you aren't coming home?'

'Is parents evening that important?'

'Do you really have to wait with Charlotte?'


'Yes,' I told her, 'I'm waiting here. Charlotte is going to introduce me to her friend, don't be so crazy, I'm seeing you later anyway!'

She looked dissatisfied.

It wasn't her right to be annoyed, anyway. Charlotte was my friend, and more to the point, I could do whatever I liked because I was the one in control here. Me. Her too-long black hair swayed in the wind as she walked away to her bus, simply leaving me to wait here.

People around me were too happy. It was too bright. I had too much homework. I shouldn't have ANY homework, teachers can't tell me what to do. Everything was too noisy and too loud and things started to twist out of shape, before my arms got goosebumps and suddenly it was dark, like night.

It was finally dark, like night.

I couldn't tell one person apart from another, their black shadows moulded into one moving, unintelligible mass. This world was far better, it was my world. I ruled here and nothing could disrupt it.

Or so I thought.

Suddenly, to my left, a light appeared. A blinding light. Why was it filling my dark? I didn't like it. Turning around, I saw Charlotte walking towards me, illuminated by the light next to her. Then, as Charlotte said something about introducing her, I saw. The source.

I had not seen a girl like this before. She was different. Her hair was brown and red and ginger and blonde and dark brown. Her eyes were a shining, painted blue. Her limbs were perfectly proportioned, as if manufactured that way. Her skin was porcelain white. Her heart shaped face captured me and I knew.

She was a china doll.

I had to have her.

I wanted her to be mine.

My China Doll. 

The End

5 comments about this story Feed