I suppose you've read my story, in journal format. If not, you don't have to. If you have, then you might know what I'm talking about and you'll guess correctly on what will happen next. That's what always happens when people read my story on some social websites like Facebook. Let me introduce myself: My real name is Elizabeth Lightman, but people call me Liz..
Or at least the people who will at least talk to me or look at me.
No one liked me. My past was horrifying, if not depressing. It makes me want to just be unloved even more, then it'll make me wish I had friends in the world. I was born on April 5th of 1995. I was acting like a good child should. Doing what I was told, not being rude, blah blah and all that crap. It was like pure heaven for the first 5 years of my life, until the fateful day that changed me forever.
The day that my dear parents who loved me, were killed, in that bloody, gory, and most gruesome accident.
I was only 5 then, and I didn't know that my parents, my own presidents, were swept away off the earth by the broom of death into the garbage can of agony and grief as their bodies became one with the bloody road, guts splattered everywhere. I thought they'd got a cut on their arm or something and they needed a band-aid. Their cuts were WAY deeper than that. Anyway, I was transferred to my very first pair of foster parents: Deb and Paul. They gave me a notebook/journal originally from my parents.
They then told me that my mother and father went "above the stars" and "I wasn't going to be able to see them again" and they were all sympathetic and that crap. I didn't understand the stars part, but the only thing I did understand was that I could never see my own parents again. I took the notebook, and ran to what they called my room. I read the note my parents left saying how much they loved me. I wrote on the next page saying how much I had missed them since their permanent absence. Then I went to sleep.
The next day, I woke up, I saw Deb and Paul, but it wasn't Deb and Paul. It was their heads. And another ax. Now I knew what they meant by "above the stars". I screamed and the neighbor next door ran in, seeing the bloody mess. I pointed to a bloody ax left at the scene, assuming correctly that it was the weapon.
With tears streaming down my eyes, I ran to my room and sobbed in the pillow until I fell asleep. I woke up in a different home. The home of Lily and Evan. They were a lovely couple and I had them for about 6 years. Then their limbs were chopped off, and they were similarly beheaded. All the while they were alive, I was bullied at the school they sent me to. I was then shipped off to the orphanage for about 4 years, where the bullying continued.They kept making fun of me, and I was crying myself to sleep every night, hoping the torture would end.
From there I was sent to Sarah and Isaac, it was well there. Now that I think about it, when I was there, it felt like my parents were back. But they were killed in a week, ax slits in their backs, the lifeless corpses laying in a pool of their own blood. Then Heather and Xavier adopted me. They were a good couple, still alive today, still being my good adoptive parents. I'm still being bullied in this time of my life.
On the first day of school, everyone seemed so nice, except for this jerk named Jason who threatened to kill me with an ax. Coincidentally, I made a doll that was VERY creepy the night before, and I slipped it into his bag. Right before this incident, I saw a man at the end of my last class. He looked very disturbing, with his white/bloody hoodie and his messed up face, and I thought if he was the killer of my parents, and the ruiner of my life. The bell rang. I snuck my doll into Jason's bag. I waited for nightfall, and it turned out to be a year of waiting.
While I was waiting for my popcorn to finish in the microwave, I heard a thought in my head. It was a little thought. And the thought, surprisingly, came from the doll. I named the doll Timber, and asked it to kill the fiend it calls itself a human. I wanted that tool-bag to be beautiful, like my precious friend Timber. So Timber happily stitched buttons into the teenager's eyes, sewn his mouth into a pretty smile, and stabbed him in the heart, letting him slowly die of blood loss. I was happy that day. I was VERY happy that I can express my anger towards someone.
Timber still makes his "creations" like I instruct him to. And his creations are beautiful. I still look for that man I saw, but had no luck.
One evening, I saw another man, not the one I saw before. He was dressed in black. I was fed up with the people stalking me, so I went outside, in my backyard, furious, and demanded what was going on. He said that he was Johnny, and he knew what I was up to. He said that me trying to find the killer that ruined my life was "fun" and he suggested that I get some sleep. He gave me a note, I went inside, and I slept with Timber at my side. I woke up, feeling that I was being watched. I remembered the note. I quickly opened it, and it said as follows:
I know you saw me, that school day. I remember when I went to school, but that doesn't matter now. I know you're new to killing, and I just wanted to say. Be careful you don't get caught.
Now you can wake up"
I knew it was the man from school. I immediately went back to sleep and tried not to dream about that man. There's my story, I'm making more dolls, so my search for the ax murderer, bullies, Johnny, and that other man can be quicker. If any of the people that I mentioned are reading this, I'm coming for you. And I will let Timber make you into his creation. You're sewn up into a problem now. Unless you're identity is Johnny or the other man from school..
Truly and Forever yours,
Elizabeth the DollMaker