I use to have this doll, her name was Carol.
She sat on the top shelf of my bedroom, next to my school bag and the ball.
But there was something wrong with her, everytime I went to bed she seemed to be staring at my soul.
Once somehow Carol got into my school bag,
I found out after I played tag.
I wanted to get rid of her but I couldn't, I was about to throw her in the bin when my grandmother opened the kitchen door and came in.
At the end I decided not to get rid of Carol because it was my grandma who made the doll.
The reason why I didn't tell my grandmother about how the doll was scaring me was because she wouldn't believe it of course, adults never do.
Today I still have that doll and I promise to myself when my grandmother dies I'm not giving it to my children, I'm putting it right in the bin where it belongs.