October 30th, 2011 by Kidsmomo
Today, we’re posting the third installment of “The Stuffing In The Bathtub” by 12-year-old author Naomi Wolfrey. If you’ve already read the beginning of the story and you’re here to see what happens next, well, we salute you. You are one brave soul.
And after you’ve read Part 3, below, you can put yourself in a happier mental state by entering our sweeps for a chance to win a copy of Dancing With The Pen, a collection of youth writing where “The Stuffing In The Bathtub” was first published!
But now it’s time for Part 3 of “The Stuffing In The Bathtub,” written by Naomi Wolfrey, with photos added by us:
Finally, Erin came running in. I guess she was getting fed up with my screaming. “Steph, what happened?” she shrieked.
I said, “Look at Mr. Ted– I mean, my bear.”
“Yeah, so what?” she said, shrugging.
“So what? So what! He’s decapitated, that’s what!”
“So? Throw it out,” Erin said, disinterested.
“WHAT?” I exclaimed. “Never! He’s my best fri– I mean, my earliest memory!”
“You’re making way too big a deal out of this.”
“No I’m not!” I insisted. “And I think Clarice did it!”
“Who?” Erin asked.
“The doll!” I said.
Erin gave me her doubting look. And that’s where this whole story began.
So, Erin leaves, and I am alone again. Well, not completely alone. She — Clarice — is there, too.
I run out of my room, screaming and clutching the wounded Mr. Teddy.
“Mom!” I shout. I run into her in the hallway. “Help me, please! Mr. Teddy’s dying, do something!!”
She looks shocked and says, “Call nine-one-one! Where is he?”
“Um, right here!” I show her Mr. Teddy. I may have forgotten to mention that our next door neighbor’s last name is Teddy, too.
Mom gets this somewhat annoyed look on her face and says, “Stephanie, it’s a toy.”
I frown. “Just help me, please!”
“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll get my sewing kit.”
“Yippee!” I give her a hug, then skip to my room. Guess where Clarice is? I have no idea, either! I flip out. I start looking around my room. When I open my dresser drawers, I shout, “Holy cabbage! Where are all my socks?”
I turn around and there is Clarice, napping on a pile of socks. I scream. (My voice is going to be very worn out soon.)
I gently lift her up and her eyes flash open. I guess she’s one of those dolls that open and close their eyes. I set her little body down on the doll bed, and back up slowly. Her eyes close. Then flash open. Then close. Um, must be a glitch.
How will it end? Check out the final chapter of “The Stuffing In The Bathtub.”
(And a giant thank you to Naomi Wolfrey for granting us permission to re-publish this stunningly spooky tale. Plus thank you to Dallas Woodburn from Write On! For Literacy for giving us the prizing for our sweeps!)