Ghost of the Doll: A Selection of Western "Ghost" Stories

Author: Ren Rongrong
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-09-01
Features: Excerpt from the book: A terrible incident occurred at the luxurious Cranston Duke's Mansion, as if the sky had collapsed, causing chaos in the entire neighboring estate. The butler was in his room trying to rest comfortably when he quickly stepped out. Two maids rushed towards him from two directions simultaneously. Several maids stood motionlessly on the grand staircase. Mrs. Pringle, the head housekeeper, stood tall at the top of the stairs. As for the senior nanny, the junior nanny, and the maid in the children's room, their anxiety was beyond description. The senior nanny placed one hand on the polished marble railing, gazing blankly ahead; the junior nanny leaned against the polished marble wall, pale and unable to move; the children's room maid fell onto the marble step next to the velvet carpet on the staircase, crying openly. Miss Gweneth Lancaster Douglas-Skrap, the ninth daughter of the youngest son of the ninth Duke of Cranston, aged six and three months, sat alone on the third step from the bottom of the grand staircase at Cranston Mansion. "Oh!" the butler exclaimed first, then vanished. "Ah!" the two maids shouted in turn, also disappearing. "Just because of a doll." Mrs. Pringle said clearly, with complete indifference. The junior nanny heard her say this. Then, the senior nanny, the junior nanny, and the children's room maid gathered around Miss Gweneth, gently patting her and taking unsanitary things from their pockets to give to her, coaxing her, and then hurriedly dragging her out of Cranston Duke's Mansion to prevent the masters upstairs from discovering that they had allowed the delicate Miss Gweneth Lancaster-Douglas-Skrap to be her doll down the grand staircase. Since the doll was broken badly, the children's room maid wrapped it in Miss Gweneth's small cape, putting all the broken pieces inside. Cranston Duke's Mansion was not far from Hyde Park. There, they found a quiet spot and carefully examined Miss Gweneth, thankfully finding no bruise. Fortunately, the thick, soft carpet on the staircase, with a thick cloth padding underneath, made it extra soft. Miss Gweneth Lancaster Douglas-Skrap had always screamed but never cried. She had just been screaming, and the nanny had no choice but to let her come downstairs. She insisted on walking alone, holding Nina, her doll, in one hand and gripping the polished marble railing with the other, walking along the edge of the marble steps on the carpet, which was polished to a shine. As a result, she slipped and fell, causing Nina to suffer greatly. When the senior nanny and the others were convinced that Miss Gweneth was safe, they finally opened the cape wrapped around the doll to see how it was. This doll was large and beautiful, with real golden hair and eyelids that blinked. Not only that, but as long as you raised and lowered its right arm, it would say "Dad," and as long as you raised and lowered its left arm, it would say "Mom," clearly. "It only called out 'Dad' once when it fell," the junior nanny, who heard everything, said. "But it should have called 'Dad.'" "That's because it only raised its arm when it landed on the step," the senior nanny said. "Look, if I put this arm back down, it will say the rest of 'Dad.'" "Dad." When the right arm of Nina was put down, her broken face actually made that sound. The face was cracked exactly from the center of her forehead, through her nose, to the wide, light green collar of her long coat at the neck, and the crack was perfectly centered, with two triangular pieces of glass falling out. "It's simply unbelievable that it could still make a sound after breaking so badly," the junior nanny said. "You need to take it to Mr. Parker," the senior nanny instructed her. "It's not far, you can go right now." Miss Gweneth was busy digging a hole in the mud with a small shovel, completely ignoring what the maids were saying. "What are you doing?" the children's room maid asked her. "Nina is dead, I'm burying her," Miss Gweneth replied. "Oh, Nina will come back to life." the children's room maid said. The junior nanny wrapped Nina back up and was about to leave. Fortunately, a kind, tall soldier wearing a small hat happened to be there. Since he was idle anyway, he volunteered to take the junior nanny safely to Mr. Parker and then take her home. Mr. Parker and his young daughter lived in a small house in a lane that led to a quiet, small road not far from Belgravia Square. Mr. Parker was a skilled doll doctor, famous in the aristocratic circles for his ability to repair dolls of all sizes, ages, and types—boy dolls and girl dolls, dressed-in-robe baby dolls and fashionable adult dolls, talking dolls and non-talking dolls, dolls that closed their eyes when they lay down, and dolls that required pulling a invisible wire to close their eyes. His daughter, Elsie, was only twelve years old but already skilled at sewing doll clothes and making doll hair. Although the doll sat still while her hair was being made, no matter how you arranged it, this job was much harder than you might think.