"Oh my god, this is probably the ugliest thing on earth!" A random kid claimed, picking up this new toy recently donated to our orphanage. Not that I really cared, but she was right. That doll is ugly. It looked a lot like one of those Good Guy dolls back in 1988, though its face was just a forest of scars with all these stitches and staples. Its empty ice blue eyes stared at that other kid whose name I don't know with such coldness. That fiery red hair was attached to make the thing look like it was balding. And those clothes, they were all torn and bloody. That thing truly was one of the ugliest sights ever.
"The card doesn't have a name on it" I looked at said card, searching for initials or a signature. Really anything would've done the trick. "Wonder who it's from" I commented in my thick and rather cute Russian accent. "Well whoever that person is, I wouldn't blame them for wanting to get rid of this thing. But donating it to an orphanage is like a friggin crime!" That other kid told me, tossing the ugly Good Guy doll to the side. "Agreed. If that person wanted to get rid of the doll they could've just burnt it" I commented. We both giggled at my so called joke, continuing our days in the orphanage as usual; barely noticing the doll say the words: hi I'm Chucky. Wanna play?
Late at night I snuck down, ready for my nightly routine. I entered the poorly locked art room, black light in hand. Plugging it in, I took a look at my true art. The animals are having their eyes bleed out and their heads decapitated. Flowers have become sexier and are now holding knifes; a few stabbing each other. This was my true art. The real masterpiece. Using the black light, I used the invisible paints over today's painting. That strict nun looks very nice with a slit throat and knife through her head. I smiled wickedly.
"Esther, you are not supposed to be here. Go to bed" said nun appeared to bug me. Damn her. Of all the times she could've chose to bother me it was now. "What is with all these pictures?" She wondered in shock of the real art underneath the black light. "Esther, I am very ashamed of you" she said, starting to act like a total bitch. I then did something a nine year old should never do. Turning around from her portrait, I raised a small fist and flicked up the middle finger. "Fuck off" I told her. Getting pissed off at me, she was trying to hold in her own curses as she approached me with a bar of soap in hand. She then fell over in pain.
I looked at her situation to see a pocket knife in her ankle. Where'd that come from? And you think that's shocking, wait till you see who put the knife in. Before that bitchy nun herself could see it, or him for that matter, the murderer snuck up behind her with the same knife by the throat. That doll from earlier today was holding the knife to the nun's throat, sneering in an evil laughter. Yes, this doll was living and breathing and killing in this case as that rubbery hand slid the knife across her throat.
"Impressive little doll. Do you happen to have an extra knife?" I asked. He gave me a questioning look, and I don't blame him. It's not exactly normal for a nine year old girl to be asking for a murder weapon. But I'm not nine. He then fished out a larger kitchen knife that was hidden in his torn up overalls. He then tossed me the knife, and I enjoyed stabbing it through the bitches head. She then dropped dead. I dragged her over to my latest picture. "Do you like my painting? It looks just like you" I joked. I then put her back down, smiling rather maliciously.
I then turned to the doll, putting on my angel act. "Thank you for helping me get rid of her. Nobody likes that nun" I told him. "Anyways, my name is Esther" I introduced like I was meeting my new parents for the first time. "Charles Lee Ray. Call me Chucky" the not so good guy doll shook my hand.
"So what's a nine year old doing with murderous pictures and a kitchen knife?" Chucky asked me. "Do you like my drawings? I made them myself" i smiled, acting like that cute little girl; in a twisted psycho kinda way. I then bent down to his level. "You know, I remember back in Estonia when I saw dolls like you at the toy store. I think the year was 1988. How old was I? 13?" I told him. I could tell he was shocked at first, but the guy picked up the hint. "You're no child, are you?" He realized. "It's a blessing and a curse" I added. He just agreed with me. Wouldn't blame him after being trapped in a doll body for god knows how long.
"So what's your story?" I then asked. "Glad ya asked err, kid" he said, trying not to offend me for this lame excuse for an adult body. "1988, I'm just another killer creep running from the cops. Im shot and dying in a toy store and i have no choice but to transfer my soul into this with voodoo magic" he explained. "And now you're like this" I commented. "Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures" he added. Point taken.
"Anyways, how am i gonna hide this?" Chucky pointed to the dead body. "You know, i think its always best to burn the evidence" i suggested. "Besides, I don't want anyone else to discover these" i tossed my paintings into a pile by the body. "Then why make them?" Chucky questioned. "Can't a serial killer have a second hobby?" I countered. I just got a dolly shoulder shrug.
"Here, you'll need these for later" I handed Chucky his knifes. We both grabbed some matches and oil paints. "Once we light the fire, do you think you can leave the orphanage?" I asked him. "Why! You want all the kills for yourself!?" Chucky snapped. "Don't be reckless. I started being careful with my kills somewhere around number seven; then i lost count" i told him. "If rumors spread about a large amount of killings happening at this orphanage, there would be no parents for me to trick into adopting me and less orphans will be sent here for you to kill" i explained to him. "I guess your right. And who loses count after seven kills?" Chucky asked me. "Oh like you find it necessary to keep count" i pointed out. "Point taken" he concluded our conversation.
I dropped the lit match, the flames lighting up the place in a rather violent matter. "Now go and never come back! I do not intend to work with you anyways" I pointed to the windows. "See ya later lil bitch!" Chucky said his goodbyes. Depending on the situation, next time i see Chucky ill might be killing the dang doll.
I turned to the situation at hand, purposefully inhaling the smoke and smog to make it look like I barely escaped. Tossing some oil paints around to support this, I ran upstairs. "There's a fire in the art room! There's a fire in the art room!" I shouted helplessly, waking everyone i could. I supposedly sounded frightened, seemingly threatened by all the flames. Just about everyone was evacuated, one or two other kids dying in the flames. Of course no one ever suspected sweet little Esther to have committed murder and set the house on fire. And no one suspected me to have ever interacted with the missing Chucky doll. The orphanage was moved to a new building while the old one was being repaired and rebuilt, and everything went back to normal