Free write story

                                          LITTLE HORRORS
                             By the No:1 bestselling author Cooper G

The Waistcoat

It all began with the shop.  Terry and his friend Rebecca were walking on hard gravel, taking a shortcut back to their houses, next too each over.  Terry enjoyed annoying Rebecca. She  was serious but Terry... he was practical joker.  On the 12th of may 2017,  Terry tripped Rebecca up. She landed flat on her face. Terry was quite good looking, with a dimple, greasy hair and small freckles and cuts plastered on his small face. Terry was small for 12, about 4 foot. Rebecca was the absolute opposite. She was tall, 5 foot. She had short  cropped hair , moon spectacles  and  her voice was deep. She always wore baggy jeans and a T- Shirt that was always a size too big for her. Terry may have been a joker, but she was daring, always ready to take a bet.

Terry always wore silk, beautiful clothes.  However, he always wanted a waistcoat. He could imagine it, a perfect fit. As Rebecca landed on the footpath, the gravel crunching. Terry helped her up.  When he looked up he gasped. A small antique shop called The Waistcoat. Fancy things for someone special.  The name was corny, but that waistcoat... It was beautiful. It was a dark blue, the buttons were bright red. Just as he had imagined. The size was perfect! Below it had:

                                                                     Special cost:  $25

He felt in his pocket and gasped. He had $35, he could buy it. Next to him, Rebecca was drooling. A brass pocket watch was on a display case for $5. Just what she had always wanted. She happened to have $15.  But then Terry realised 3 things. The letters  saying The Waistcoat were faded. There was dust all over the windows. And the store was abandoned. But there was a feeling of fear in the air.  Terry pulled Rebecca away, but they both  couldn’t stop thinking about the strange old store. The next day, Terry and Rebecca hatched a plan.

“Listen, Terry” Rebecca said, “That pocket watch is rusting away, did you see the window? A bird poo could break it. All we need to do is throw a gravel stone and break the window, then take the watch and waistcoat.” Terry shook his head. He couldn’t do it. Rebecca frowned. She had to do everything herself. The next day it snowed, nee height. School was cancelled and Rebecca set off to do the deed. She came back later, dangling the watch and giggling. “It was sooo easy. The watch is just as I imagined. The door was unlocked, anyway.” The next day, he had a cold and Rebecca went off by herself. Later that evening he was still waiting. Then came the phone call.
“ Terry, dear, can you ask Reb too come home?” asked the voice of Suzanne, Rebecca's mother. Rebecca was not at his house. She was gone.

Terry thought he knew where she had gone and he set of to the antique shop after the police had finished questioning him the next morning. The gravel crunched. He felt the shop door. Locked. He picked up a large grimy and slimy stone and was about to throw it when he saw the door open. He carefully tip-toed in. He was about to go for the waistcoat when he saw a small doll. It reminded him of someone. He was studying it and dropped it on the lino ground. But the doll didn’t break it bounced. Then he screamed. The doll was a perfect replica of Rebecca and in her hand was a small pocket watch. He ran for the doors as the doors as the dolls eyes began to move. They were ALL CHILDREN. And looking at them he saw children that went to his school, had taken the same route as him and Rebecca and had mysteriously disappeared. They had taken Rebecca by letting her take the pocket watch. She was china now. And so will he if he didn’t move. The doors were locked. He banged and screamed against the window glass, but no one heard him. Then there was a flash of light. He was a boy no more. He was a doll. A china doll with a scarf and its mouth open in a scream.

5 months later,  little Arrieta walked through her special shortcut. She fell over and looked up at a bucket of playdough, in a shop window. The shop was called The Waistcoat.  The door swung open and she trotted in, smiling.