Author’s Note: For all of you horror fans I know are out there in Weedsport, here is something to feed your need for horror. The is my first attempt at writing a ‘creepypasta’ and I’ll be posting a new one every week until Halloween, so stay tuned! ~Ann

Ezra Bear

I grew up taking this little white bear with me everywhere. I named him Ezra. He was gifted to me after my mother found him at a garage sale while out of town two weeks before my 1st birthday. He was in pretty good condition, assuming that you forget that one of his button eyes was missing and some of the stitching on his arm would come undone occasionally. I used to take time every single day to straighten out his little bowtie. It was blue, and had tiny white dots all over.

Ezra and I would talk everyday. We would talk about how he didn’t like his name. He wanted to be called James. I would tell him no, I named you Ezra because you are my teddy bear, and teddy bear’s absolutely cannot name themselves. But we would still argue on occasion.

Sometimes I would take him on walks in my little play grocery cart and use it as his little car. He enjoyed going fast around the corners, especially the one near my street sign, every time I rounded that corner one of my feet always stepped in the road. One day, we were on one of our normal speed races. Together we sped down the street making sharp turns this way and that way. “We’re in the home stretch Ezra!” I shouted as a full six year old now. “We’re gonna win Ezra! We are going in for the kill!” Ezra just sat there grinning back at me with his forever smile. “It’s the last turn Ezra! Hold on tight!” I made the turn but lost my footing on the curb. I tripped and fell smashing my chin into the curb and breaking my jaw with a loud crunch. I cried out in pain my hands immediately flying towards my chin only to be met with pain and lots and lots of blood.

Ezra was sitting a few feet away from me, watching me in agony. Then, suddenly, he moved. Just a little inch, but he moved. He stood up, cracking his neck and the stitching from his arm coming more and more undone as he started to move towards me. “Ezra? Go get help Ezra! Ezra?” Ezra stopped inches before my face, which was now mixed with blood,tears and confusion. He knelt down, looking at my face with his one good eye. Then tapped my head twice with his hand. Then, standing back up fully, he turned around and started to walk away from me. All I could see was darkness after that.

———–

“Mr.Raoul. Mr.Raoul!” I look up at that jerk of a doctor. An Indian man, clutching a notepad and a firm expression planted across his face. “Yes?” I say giving the man a stare right back at him that causes him to shift uneasily. “Ezra, was he really a bear?” This question, again. “Of course. I mean, that one time where I broke my jaw. It definitely hurt, but he made it better, he walked to me.” My doctor rolls his eyes, then stands up mutters a goodbye and leaves the room.

Once outside of the room my doctor, Mr. Jones meet with a policeman. I overheard the brief conversation from afar.

———–

“Any luck?” The policeman asked. “Not really, it’s better for his health if we keep him in a sanatorium.” “Why is that?” “Well, if you know this guys as well as I do, you know that yes, Mr. Raoul did have a bear named Ezra. In the exact description he gives us. Hell, we have the bear. But, he still doesn’t admit to what he did the day he broke his jaw. That day, he put his poor brother in the toy grocery cart instead of his bear, Ezra. And, when he broke his jaw, his infant brother, James, was shot out of the cart and instantly killed when he was hit by a speeding motorcycle. They still haven’t found the culprit…”

The policeman stared in awe. The policeman eyes flash, he remembers flying down the street, his daughter was about to be born. He races down the street and then suddenly hits a bump, but without noticing what it was, speeds on. It takes him a moment to figure out what his mind was telling him. Then it clicked.

“Dear God.” He thought to himself.

I killed him.