No One Else Around



Lovely girl of six
with hair of gold
and face of innocence.

I felt a bump
in my blanket –
a lump unmoving
and steadfast.

It was her doll –
face contorted,
clothes in pieces,
limbs dismembered.

I would find it in my room
for the next three nights.
No matter if I hid it.
No matter if I tied it down.
It would appear in my bed.
Was it messing with my head?

I took it to a priest.
Bless it, father, if you please.
He looked with horror at its face –
eyes erased,
stab marks deep,
hair burnt
and yanked in places.
List of injuries

I cannot fathom
who would do this to a doll.
The problem herein lies
with your girl
and not this toy.

After dinner,
I asked her, why?
Why did you do
those things to the doll?

She shook her head,
pigtails swaying –
a smile of pity
on her lips.
You’re crazy.
Don’t you see it?

Grabbing a knife,
she cut her arm.
I screamed for her to stop.
You’ll hurt yourself!
Enough, enough!

No one else around,
she laughed.

I looked down.
The blood was pouring
from my arm.

No one else around.


Poem & Photograph


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*This poem was originally posted on Poet Rummager’s blog in July 2015.


Published by Dead Donovan

SlasherMonster Magazine

25 thoughts on “No One Else Around

  1. she’s one of those genius with a temper types, but she always wanted me to buy her fireworks AND Barnoex for 4th of July. She Lap shit a monarch nuttefly with a super soaker.


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