THE CURSE OF THE BURIED DOLL

It was November. My friend Clara and I lived in the same town, and that afternoon we had arranged to collect soil samples for a job that we had to do in Biology class. We entertained ourselves for a long time talking and playing without realizing that night was beginning to fall over the lonely fields of Montejícar, Granada (Spain).

Hurrying, we dug through different places to collect dirt. In an unexpected moment my friend screamed: look what is here! and indeed, there was something. It was a doll. It was terrifying, it must be said: red hair, almost disjointed eyes, and the most shocking thing was her deep seriousness, something strange in dolls for girls. There she was half buried and dressed in white, but we decided to leave her there.

As she started home again, Clara began to feel bad. I took her by the hand and we went into town until we reached her house. It was the last time I saw her alive. That same night, an hour or so later, her mother called me crying saying that Clara was dying in a hospital. However, I would learn of a horrible misfortune the next day.

Sure enough, Clara had died that night, without the slightest warning of poor health in her previous days. "A 9-year-old girl dies in Montejícar for no apparent reason," the press said the day after the event. The entire town came to say goodbye to him. 4 or 5 years after that event I read something that made my blood run cold. It was chilling and actually had me 8 months under psychological treatment.

I read that the person who has an end-stage disease and has no cure will bury a doll dressed in white, and the moment another person finds the doll, the evil will pass over to the doll and they will suffer the disease from where the person who buries the wrist, which will be healthy and fully healed.

So, I think: if instead of going to collect the land that night, we had gone the next day, it would have had no effect, and Clara would not have died, because the sick person who buried her, would have died at the same time as Clear.

Many years have passed since then.

In memory of Clara (1984-1994).