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Array
(
[sid] => 77398
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Killer Doll
[time] => 2004-12-27 17:24:37
[hometext] => Enjoy.
[bodytext] =>    Signatures By The Tired Lion I feel a little nervous when I climb into bed at night, something in the dark is lurking it fills me with such fright. I look under my bed to find nothing there, a doll sits in the corner on a rocking chair. She my favorite dolly I talk to her every day, she is always there when my life is in total disarray. I get out of my bed and creep across the floor, to hug my dolly tight suddenly, I heard the slamming of the door. I run across the room and jump back into bed, I pull the covers tightly up over my head. I slowly peep from under the covers looking for the light, then I saw my dolly there holding a kitchen knife. Her eyes glowed the deepest crimson red, I fall on the floor my dolly stabbed me, now I am dead. Copyright Cynthia Jones Nov.25/2004 [comments] => 5 [counter] => 183 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Cynthia [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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