Miss Bonnie and I do everything together. Miss Bonnie is more than a doll. She's my best friend. Mommy thinks it's weird when Miss Bonnie moves by herself.
My mommy thinks we need to take Miss Bonnie back to the store. I ask her why, and she says because she finds Miss Bonnie with a knife in her hand next to my bed in the morning. I tell mommy Miss Bonnie is going to just get me a slice of cake.
But one day, I was dead seventeen years ago at the age of five. All because of my best friend Miss Bonnie. Oh well. I guess it's that plastic bitch's turn to die. Or melt.
YOU ARE READING
scare | ✓
Horrorcreepy texts and stories that you're probably going to have to go to your birthgiver and cry about these stories -profanity -highest rank #20 -originally known as "Creepy Texts and Stories"
