The Window’s Song.
Mr. Glim moved into a big house. It was old. It was very quiet. Mr. Glim liked quiet. He liked the big, quiet rooms. He liked the old wooden floor.
One day, Mr. Glim heard a sound. It was a soft sound. Like music. Like a small music box playing a tune. He did not know this tune. The sound came from upstairs. It came from a window. An empty room was there. He went upstairs. He walked slowly. The sound was clear now. *Tinkle-tinkle-tinkle*.
He opened the door to the empty room. He looked around. The room was empty. No music box. No small toy. The window was closed. He saw nothing strange. The sound stopped. Mr. Glim felt a little strange. He felt cold air. He closed the door.
Later that night, Mr. Glim heard the sound again. *Tinkle-tinkle-tinkle*. It was louder now. It came from the same window. In the empty room. He went to the window. He looked up. He saw it.
A small doll sat on the window sill. Inside the glass. Its dress was old and white. Its hair was dark. Its eyes were big and black. Its face was like old paper. Mr. Glim did not put it there. He did not see it before. He stood still. The sound played. It came from the doll.
He went to the room again. He opened the door. The doll was not there. The window was still closed. No doll. No sound. Mr. Glim felt his heart beat fast. He felt a big fear. He quickly left the room.
Days passed. The sound came often. Always from the window. Always the same little song. Sometimes it was soft. Sometimes it was loud. Mr. Glim knew it was the doll. He knew it was in the window. But when he went to check, it was never there. He stopped checking. He was very scared. He stayed in his room. He kept his door shut.
One very dark night, the sound was very, very loud. It was not a soft tune now. It was fast. *Tinkle-tinkle-TINKLE!*. It sounded angry. Mr. Glim could not stay in his bed. He felt he must go. He walked slowly to the room. The sound filled the house.
He stood at the door. He looked into the room. The doll was there. It sat on the window sill. Its old white dress was torn. Its dark hair was messy. Its big, black eyes looked at Mr. Glim. Its small mouth was open. Like it wanted to speak. The sound was very loud. But it did not come from the doll’s mouth. It came from the window itself. The window was closed.
Mr. Glim could not move. He just looked at the doll. The doll looked back. Its eyes were like deep, black holes. The sound played and played. He felt very, very cold. He felt a great dread. He knew he was not alone. The house was not quiet anymore.
He stayed there. Looking. The sound played. Always.
The End
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