The Plush Dog

When I was ten years old, I loved stuffed animals. I loved them so much I had more than thirty of them. But I will never get another stuffed animal again. Why? Here's the story. 
One day, me and my dad were at the store. I got honor roll on my report card, so he told me he'd let me pick out a stuffed animal to add to my collection as a prize. So, while I was looking on the shelves of assorted stuffed animals, a certain one caught my eye. It was sitting in a corner, away from all the other stuffed animals. When I went up closer, I noticed it was a beautiful, hand-knitted golden retriever plush. It had silky fur and was very huggable, but the only thing that kind of creeped me out about it was its button eyes. Those soulless eyes, staring up at me.
But, I noticed a cardboard sign next to it said "One Dollar". I picked up the plush and showed it to dad. "I want this one, dad!" I said. "It's only one dollar!" My dad smirked. "One dollar is fine with me," he said. So, he let me have the plush. I named her Goldie. Goldie was my favorite stuffed animal. I played with her every day and slept with her every night. Until I realized, something was wrong with that stuffed animal.
It followed me. Goldie always appeared in random places, mostly she appeared wherever I was. When I'd walk into the living room, she'd appear on the couch or by the TV. When I would walk into my bedroom, she'd be on my bed. Even when I went to the bathroom she would be sitting on my toilet with a closed lid or in the sink. One day, she appeared in my locker at school, but when I closed it and opened it again, she disappeared.
"Weird," I said. Those were only the first few weeks I had Goldie. Oh, she got worse, way worse. One evening I was playing with my stuffed cat, Jenna. Goldie was sitting on my bed. While I was playing I got up to use the bathroom, then I went to go have a snack. I forgot about Jenna and Goldie. When I returned to my room, I almost had a heart attack. Jenna's belly was ripped open, and two of her legs and her tail was torn off. Her stuffing was spread around the floor of my room. Goldie was on the floor next to the remains of my stuffed cat with flecks of stuffing in her fur.
My stuffed animals were like children to me. I cried nonstop the moment after I realized what happened to Jenna. I sat in my bed and hugged Goldie; but Goldie seemed to be smiling. We buried Jenna's remains in my backyard. I then got a new stuffed cat similar to Jenna and named it Jenny. The next day I played with my two stuffed rabbits, Maya and Cody. When I left the room and came back, the same thing happened to them, only their heads were torn off and their stuffing was cluttered on the floor. Goldie sat next to their remains with larger clumps of stuffing in her fur. She seemed to be smiling bigger.
I buried the two stuffed rabbits in my backyard but didn't bother to get two more rabbits similar to them, since they didn't make rabbits like them anymore. The third day when I played with my stuffed bear, Waldo, the same thing happened, with Goldie sitting next to his remains with that sick smile on her face. Only this time, her teeth seemed to be showing a bit. My mom was tired of this 'nonsense' so she just threw Waldo's remains in the garbage instead of burying him. The same things happened over and over with my stuffed animals whenever I played with different ones other than Goldie.
The next three weeks were the most horrible weeks of my life. I got a new puppy the first week, and I named him Crash. He was a cute little beagle puppy who loved to play. He slept on my bed every night. The week I got Crash I started to forget about Goldie more and more. That second week, Goldie seemed to become.......Evil. I soon discovered it was her who was tearing up my stuffed animals all along. Then I started to hate her. I put her in a cardboard box and taped it ten times in a row. I put the box in the corner of my room where I would soon forget about Goldie. The second week I started to worry more and more. I then started to use the cardboard box in the corner of my room as a small table. I put my blanket on it and put many things on it such as picture frames, a candle, and some nail polish bottles. I knew then I would definitely be safe. The third week, it then happened. We went on a two day vacation to Florida. We left Crash at home with a hired pet-sitter. After we went on our vacation and I returned home, I had the biggest shock in all of my life.
Crash was laying in the middle of the floor with his belly cut open and his insides spread all over the floor. Goldie sat next to him, covered in his blood. We saw bloody car tire marks on our driveway. Our pet-sitter must have driven away while Crash was getting killed, or......did the pet-sitter kill him? No, she would never do such a thing. I ran into my room. I noticed the cardboard box I've been using as a table had been opened. All my nail polish bottles were on the floor. Most of them were cracked, but some were broken with pools of nail polish beside them. The picture frames were on the floor with shards of glass surrounding them. The candle was laying sideways on the floor. I also noticed the box was cut open with ease.
I cried heavily about losing my dog. My mom hugged me. My dad hugged me. But that still didn't make me feel any better. Then, when I walked into the kitchen, I noticed something. One of the knives we had in the drawer was covered in blood. Crash's blood. We eventually sold that knife at a yard sale since Crash was killed with it, but that's a different story. With tears in my eyes, I looked down at Goldie. She giving me that innocent look. "You," I said to her. "It was You." I started getting very angry and upset, my heart at top speed.
"IT WAS YOU!" I screamed, and with all my might, I grabbed the bloody stuffed animal and ripped its head off. I tore out its stuffing and threw it in the garbage. I threw what remained of Goldie in the fireplace and burned the remains. It was soon 7:00 PM, and I was crying ever since we got home from our vacation. Not only because Crash died, but because I never knew why Goldie was away from all the other stuffed animals at the store, why she was only worth a dollar, why she was being so suspicious teleporting around the house and tearing up my stuffed animals. I never knew how dangerous that stuffed animal really was.
I soon cried myself to sleep. While I slept I had a dream. In my dream, a flesh and blood golden retriever appeared. She had long, silky fur and button eyes just like Goldie's. Tears seemed to be falling from those buttons. As I walked up to her, she started talking to me. "All I wanted was for you to love me...." she said. I then realized the retriever resembled Goldie. "Why did you have to kill me?" there was real sadness in her voice. Then her voice became more innocent. "I followed you because I loved you. I attacked those other stuffed animals and your dog just because I wanted to be with you," she said, her lips curling into a snarl.
"You monster," I said, my voice cold. "It's fine if you have more than one friend. You can't kill my other friends just because I can play with them sometimes instead of you. You're a mean, selfish little dog, and I should have known all along." then, I started to run away from Goldie as fast as I could. "Wait!" Goldie yelled. "I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME! COME BACK!" I kept running and running in my dream, until I woke up, covered in sweat and breathing heavily, as if I were really running.
I looked at the digital clock next to my bed. The time was 1:26 AM. Since then that night I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about the dream I just had, trying hard to remember it, since most dreams are hard to remember. But, I eventually fell asleep somewhere around 3:00 AM. The next morning, I hardly ate any of my breakfast because I kept on thinking about what happened to me. After a few trips to the store short walk around the neighborhood, my dad came home from his job. He was holding a large box in his hands with holes in it. "I got a surprise for you!" he said, I finally perked up and went over to see what he bought me. In the box was a small Golden Retriever puppy. She looked up at me with large brown eyes and stood on her hind legs. She seemed to like me. "What will you name her?" my dad asked.
"Goldie," I said. "Her name will be Goldie."
And I've had that dog ever since I remembered. I have a powerful bond with her. I still believe the spirit of the stuffed dog lurks around the house I live in, seeking revenge.....
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Living Objects
Category:Pointless Violence
Category:DIALOGUE!
Category:Dreams
Category:Stupid is as the main character does
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Crappy ms paint drawings
Category:Animulz