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, who was trying to rest comfortably in his room, quickly stepped out. Two male servants rushed towards him from two directions simultaneously. Several female servants stood motionless on the grand staircase. The housekeeper, Mrs. Pringle, stood tall at the top of the stairs. As for the head nurse, the junior nurse, and the nursery maid, their anxiety was beyond description. The head nurse placed one hand on the polished marble railing, staring blankly ahead; the junior nurse leaned against the polished marble wall, pale and unable to move; the nursery maid sat on the marble step next to the velvet carpet on the staircase, crying openly. Miss Gwendolen Lancaster Douglas-Skrap, the ninth daughter of the youngest son of the Duke of Cranston, aged six years 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 disappeared. "Ah!" the two male servants shouted in turn, also disappearing. "Just because of a doll." Mrs. Pringle said clearly, with an utterly indifferent tone. The junior nurse heard her say this. Then the head nurse, the junior nurse, and the nursery maid gathered around Miss Gwendolen, 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 Gwendolen Lancaster-Douglas-Skrap to be her doll down the grand staircase. Since the doll was broken badly, the nursery maid wrapped it in Miss Gwendolen's small cloak, putting all the broken pieces inside. Cranston Duke's Mansion was not far from Hyde Park. There, they found a quiet spot and thoroughly checked Miss Gwendolen. Fortunately, there were no bruises. Because the carpet on the stairs was very thick, soft, and loose, and there was a thick cloth underneath to make it even softer. Miss Gwendolen Lancaster Douglas-Skrap had always screamed but never cried. She had just been screaming, and the nurse had no choice but to let her come downstairs. She insisted on walking alone, holding Nina (the doll) in one arm and gripping the marble railing with the other, walking along the polished marble steps on the edge of the carpet. As a result, she slipped and fell, causing Nina to suffer greatly. When the head nurse and the others were convinced that Miss Gwendolen was safe, they finally opened the cloak wrapped around the doll to see how it was. The doll was large and beautiful, with real golden hair and eyelids that blinked. Not only that, but when its right arm was raised and lowered, it would say "Dad," and when its left arm was raised and lowered, it would say "Mom," clearly. "It only called out 'Dad' once when it fell," the junior nurse, 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 head nurse said. "Look, if I put this arm back down, it will say the rest of 'Dad.'" "Dad." The doll's right arm was lowered, and its broken face actually made that sound. The face was cracked exactly from the center of the forehead through the nose to the wide, light green collar of the long coat at the neck, with two triangular pieces of glass falling off. "It's simply unbelievable that it could still make a sound after breaking so badly," the junior nurse said. "You need to take it to Mr. Parker," the head nurse instructed her. "It's not far, you can go right now." Miss Gwendolen was busy digging a hole in the mud with a small shovel, completely ignoring what the nurses were saying. "What are you doing?" the nursery maid asked her. "Nina is dead, I'm burying her," Miss Gwendolen replied. "Oh, Nina will come back to life." the nursery maid said. The junior nurse wrapped Nina again and was about to leave. Fortunately, a kind, tall soldier wearing a small hat happened to be there. Since he had nothing else to do, he volunteered to take the junior nurse safely to Mr. Parker and then bring 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 who was famous in the aristocratic circles. He repaired dolls of all sizes and ages, male and female, infants in robes and adults in fashionable clothes, talking and non-talking, and those that closed their eyes when lying down and those that needed to be pulled by an invisible wire to close their eyes. His daughter Elsie was only twelve years old but was already good 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.