• It is said up on Runtting hill that when you walk by the house after midnight you will hear voices of the three who lived there once upon a time--yelling, screaming, crying, and shouting. On occasions you might even hear crashing, and stuff being thrown around. And if you listen closely, you can hear the two little girls playing, and laughing. But one thing that’s common is that no matter what time of day or night, you will always hear things going on in the attic. Like footsteps running, or walking, clapping or, stomping, things being moved around.

    Now let’s rewind a bit to the past before the Carlsons died. The two little girls, Claire and May loved playing with their precious dolls. They had a whole collection of them--a bride and groom, a farmer, a couple of clowns, an astronaut, etc. The two girls would play with them every day for hours and hours on end. When they had to stop, the girl liked to put them away in a specific order. Farmer with the country girl, both clowns together, the housewife and the workman, etc. The next day when they would go up to play with them again; the dolls would be in a different order. Since they were young, they never seemed to notice. That or they did not care.

    Through the weeks, at night, the girl’s mother could hear noises coming from the attic. At first she thought that the girls were playing up there. Every time she went up to tell them to go to bed, the room would be dark. No one was there, except the dolls with the eyes that seem to fallow you. The mother would look into the darkness, peering out to see if her troublemakers where there. They weren’t. So she quickly left the attic and went to check the children’s room. She silently opened the dark wooden door and poked her head through the opening. There she saw the two little girls sleeping.

    These events had happen for a year now--driving the poor mother insane. In present time if you ask the family’s friends, they will tell you that the mother had gone crazy and killed May and Claire, suffocating them with a pillow. Then she shot herself in the head. I can assure you that’s not what happened. I’ll tell you about the night of their deaths.

    As the years went by, the girls have slowly began to grow away from the dolls. Instead of playing with them every day, they just played with them once or twice a week, then a couple of times a month, and finally not even going up to the attic. Eventually, the dolls started to form a thin layer of dust that soon turned in to a thicker layer. Now, you might say, ‘what significance does this have?’ a great one. You see, everything has feelings--living or dead--breathing or non-breathing--with motion or without. So you can only image how the dolls felt--lonely, rejected, unloved.

    A week later the girls soon began to hear noises coming from the attic. Thinking it was nothing, they did not bother to go and check, they just ignored it. That night the attic door creaked open. In the hallway, their shadows could be seen as they walked on through the night.

    Now, some people say that your shadow reflects what you really are. Like what you truly look like, or perhaps how menacing and monstrous you can be. That’s the most suitable way to describe these dolls. They always have the same mask on each and every day. Now the eyes are different thing, it is said eyes look into your soul and show your anger and passion towards things and such. Clare and May never did pay much attention to their crystal eyes.

    Their shadows looked misshapen and malformed--shaped and pointed edges. No smooth lines visible except for the outline of their clothes. For some reason they were an extra shade darker that night. And the doll’s eyes where extremely bright in anger for the neglect, and happiness and excitement for the revenge they were about to have.

    Their footsteps couldn’t be heard as they walked through the halls. They were so light that it was nearly impossible to hear a sound from them. They wandered through the halls first heading towards the mother’s dark oak door--opening it slowly with a low creak. 7 of them went in. The others closed the door quietly and slowly, making a soft click noise from the knob. The others made their way quietly and steadily towards May & Claire’s room. As they went, they could hear things breaking and thrashing. Lastly they heard a little shriek. Then everything went quite behind the dark oak door.

    The others by now where right in front of the little girls’ door. It was their turn to take out their pain and anger towards them. They followed the same procedure going into the room as the ones before them did. Similar noises where heard behind Claire & May’s bedroom door. The only difference was, there were more screaming and crying. The screams were of two different pitches--one for each of the girls.

    Once the dolls were finished, they quietly closed the door and headed back up to the attic. They were interested to see what would happen next.

    No one had seen or heard from the Carlsons for ages--not May, Claire or their mother. Finally someone got the police to go to their house. In there, they found the corpses of the three Carlsons. The mother was first one that they found. She was sitting in a rocking chair in her room.--her skin pale matching her white nightgown. One of her arms where hanging off one of the chair arms. Her fingers pointed towards the floor. Her hand in general looked like she dropped something. Directly under her hand was a pistol. The police then made their way in front of her. Her once bright blue eyes where now a dull pale blue, staring off into the nothingness. Her other hand was neatly at her side unlike the other. There was a bullet hole that stood out above all in her current state. The thick crimson liquid, oozing out

    of the hole in her temple stood out brightly against her very pale skin. Next they moved towards May and Claire’s room.

    When they opened the door, they easily spotted the 2 bodies of Clair & May lying on their beds. They looked somewhat peaceful and at ease. Kind of like they would wake up at any moment and say something like ‘hello’, ‘good morning’. But sadly no, they lied there motionless in a forever sleep.

    The police quickly cleaned up the place. Soon after, they started to look for their killer, but found none. Some of the police believe the suicide theory, but there was not enough proof. As a result the case went cold.

    Now here’s the question that most of you want to know ‘how the hell do I know all this?’ Pretty simple really--I’m one of the many dolls. The reason for my telling this is to teach you an important lesson. If you have something you love, hold it close to you, treat it well and cherish it. Most importantly, never neglect it.