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The Doll — Josh Webster
PLAYMATES
From the china-blue eyes and silky blonde hair to their clear piping voices, Gretchen and Mary were identical in every respect. If it weren't for the doll that Gretchen started carrying around with her, no one would have been able to tell them apart. And oddly enough, the doll was a miniature replica of the twins…
DEATHMATES
Gretchen knew from the moment she opened the gift-wrapped box that the doll was special. Its round eyes stared back at her. Its soft-sculptured face glowed with a life of its own. And when Gretchen cradled it in her arms, it told her things -- secret, evil things that Mary could never know about. For it hated Mary just like she did. And it knew how to get back at Mary…forever.
From the china-blue eyes and silky blonde hair to their clear piping voices, Gretchen and Mary were identical in every respect. If it weren't for the doll that Gretchen started carrying around with her, no one would have been able to tell them apart. And oddly enough, the doll was a miniature replica of the twins…
DEATHMATES
Gretchen knew from the moment she opened the gift-wrapped box that the doll was special. Its round eyes stared back at her. Its soft-sculptured face glowed with a life of its own. And when Gretchen cradled it in her arms, it told her things -- secret, evil things that Mary could never know about. For it hated Mary just like she did. And it knew how to get back at Mary…forever.
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