Young Writers Society

*This is the origin of a character from my “The doll” stories. Gacha Club character designs are on my wall. Enjoy!*

In the 1860s, there was the Davidson family. Samantha Davidson, Anthony Davidson, and their eight year old daughter, Molly Davidson.

They were having a sweet afternoon to themselves. Anthony played the piano for Samantha, a smooth, tranquil melody. Samantha could hear Molly upstairs, eagerly playing with her dolls, as if they were all grand friends.

There was a knock at the front door, loud and clear.

“I’ll get it!” Anthony said with a smile, pushing back the seat.

Samantha twirled her blond hair, watching him walk up to the door. It might have been just a visitor, but still, it could have been a stranger.

She never liked it when people knocked, it filled her with a strange horror. Samantha preferred when loved ones said what days they were going to visit at celebrations, so Samantha would know in advance. She made it clear that everyone had to do this.

But she didn’t know who was knocking on the front door.

"Rhian! It's good to see you, brother! You don't come up here often." Anthony said, opening the door wide.

Rhian walked into the house, with a queer glaze upon his hands. In one of his hands, he held a rusted ax.

Why did he have an ax?

"Rhian?" Anthony asked. They hadn’t seen him in years, Anthony missed him deeply. He would have had Rhian stay and explain himself, believing that there was good in him.

But Samantha knew better.

“Get out of this house, now! Or I’ll kill you, Rhian. I’ll kill you.” Samantha seethed.

She wasn’t joking. She would throw a glass vase at him and use the shards to slash his throat.

Rhian had the eyes of a murderer, a monster. Why else would he have the ax and just come unannounced to their home?

“Samantha, what are you-“

Rhian cut Anthony off mid sentence, slicing his head off with the ax blade.

His head rolled to Samantha, eyes filled with shock and betrayal.

Samantha turned around to grab the glass vase on the piano. There was no way she would let Rhian walk out the door alive, not after he killed his own brother, chopping Anthony’s head off as if he were nothing.

She held the vase in her hands, staring at Rhian coldly. He was walking up to her, still holding the ax, as if it were his prized possession.

They were eye to eye, facing each other down. Samantha raised the vase, the flowers falling to the ground. Rhian raised the ax.

He sliced her chest, blood seeping down as a vile, hellish waterfall. Samantha dropped the vase, the glass shards breaking into a million pieces.

She staggered backwards, to the piano, and slipped on…on…on Anthony’s head.

Samantha screamed as she fell into the piano, the lid closing shut on her.

The last thing that came upon her mind was:

Would Molly run?