Halloween Special The Doll

The contents here may be disturbing to some readers. Please accept my apologies if you are.

I knew soon after that I should not have defaced the doll face. I drew a wider outline on its lip and wrote on the dress the word, ‘twat’. Grandma called the mother that every time we visit her. I took fancy to that word. I had asked Grandma how do I spell it.

“T. T…Tw…Twat…” Grandma uttered to me. The older lady was bedridden with needles and tubes from her body. Mother told me it was keeping Grandma alive.

“I had wished they pull the plug on her.” Mother disliked Grandma because they were no true relations but adopted by choice.

Grandma died some weeks ago and not before she handed me a doll. It was a simple hand-sewn ragged-looking item to be named a doll but it had the anatomy of humans; head, torso, and limbs. It was covered with the makeshift wrap that resembled a dress. The head had two small buttons sewn on it and there was the strip of cloth to resembled its mouth but no nose. It was soon after, I drew the lips and added the words.

“Twat…. twat…twat….” I used to chant the words when I took the doll to play. I will run around the room withy the doll held in my hands above my head.

“I can see in your dress.” I will add it to my chants. I am a young lady and modesty was taught to us when we first learned to sit. “I can see your…twat.”

That last word had to be tone down. If Mother hears me say that, she will reprimand me. I was scared of my mother when she was in her angry mood. The doll was with me from young towards my pubes. Soon, I forgot about the doll. I was with the boys most times, and fooling around. We will do ‘can I see?’ or ‘can I touch?’ and soon the kissing. I was a good girl though.

I was no ‘twat’.

“Yes, you are.” Mother will scream at me when I reached home late or missed my classes. She knew I was out with some boys although it was not true. I was by myself at the library or by the pond reading the books. I disliked her and soon I did everything to stay away from her. I did not tell her anything about me.

I did not tell her of my menstrual cramps.

But I told myself it will be over.

And the nightmares came.

Twat…. twat…. twat.

The sight of my doll will appear. It was life-sized. And its lip will move as it talking to me but it was not the lips. It was more like the labia that was on my vagina.

Twat… twat…twat.

The tongue will appear from there. It snaked out and rolled towards the navel. It was long and glistening with secretion. It will snake up over the robe and then lingered at my belly hole. There the belly hole will soon widen and swallowed the tongue.

I would have screamed by then.

The tongue will appear from the vagina like a phallus leveled towards me.

I screamed even louder clutching my groin. The pain was intense.

It happened every cycle.

I had no one to talk with. I will not touch the doll. I believed it was bewitched.

I was afraid for some years.

My mother died soon after, and upon clearing her room, I found her diary. She was no longer with me, and I read her writings. I learned of her relationship with my Grandma.

“I was adopted by my mother. She was a good mother until I grew into my teens. She became obsessed with my physical beauty although I was plain. She accused me of seducing my foster father who had died a few years back. My foster mother accused me of being a witch and soon she ignored. She called me names and found faults in my life. I ran away but I kept on returning. I did not know why until after she was sick. It was in her mumblings that she told me what she did.”

“My foster mother had cursed me with her own dabbling into the witchery. She had cursed me to live my life as a twat. I was upset at her for doing that. I was no twat; yes, I had a few failed relationships but I was attracted to the older men. I found my solace in their comfort as if they were my father. I needed love but men have other needs. I found myself alone most times, and soon with my daughter. I was sickened by my mother’s woes but I repaid her kindness till her death.”

“I was soon to know that the curse was onto my daughter. She may be a twat. I have to stop her. I tried but I have failed. I am so sorry, my daughter. We are all destined to be twats.”

It was then I burnt everything my grandma handed to us including the silverwares which were melted. Finally, I held the doll in my hand. I was reluctant to toss it but the word ‘twat’ on it stared into my soul. I took the strength to toss it in the fire bin. I watched it burn and the sounds of the flames burning the doll sounded like words

Twat… twat…twat.

I felt the cramp in my groin. It was not the time of the cycle. I went down on my knees to pray for forgiveness.

Twat… twat…twat.

The pain was intense and I had to curl up on like a frightened kitten. I cried out my pain with tears and voice. I substituted the word for bitch.

“Bitch!” I called out. “I am no twat.”

I recalled nothing after that. I left the place where I grew up and found my life elsewhere. I was well again and no more pains during menstrual. I got married and have my own kids with a loving husband. Every morning, soon after I wake up, I say this to myself.

“Bitch! I am no twat.” I believed I have lifted the curse.

“Morning, bitch.” That was my husband's morning greeting.

“Better than yours, prick.” I will reply while preparing breakfast. My boys will join me later and they are no ‘liddle Puddy’ twats with no dolls in the house. Only GI Joe’s.