(( A/N: Another creative writing assignment. For this one, we were supposed to write a story based off a picture. We could choose between four pictures, and I chose one that was an old woman holding a baby doll.
Unfortunately I didn't finish it, which is a shame cause I liked where I was going with this. Maybe I'll go back and continue it one day, who knows.
But here's what I managed to get down. ))

"There's a strange lady in room 562," They always tell me. "It's best to stay away from her."
I was always told that when I volunteered at the nursing home when I was younger. The "Strange Lady" has a name, Ms. Ally Morrins, and she was rather strange. She always carried a baby doll around with her everywhere she went. If it was taken away or she lost it, she would freak out and possibly have a tantrum. People thought she had dementia, but it wasn't on her records. Every test she took proved negative, she was still sane as far as they were concerned. She was just a weird woman who sat by herself all the time, holding that old doll. I avoided her when I was younger, but now that I'm working full time, I must be near her.
I was nervous at first. That fear still gripped me. I had no choice, however. Ms. Ally Morrins needed care, she couldn't be alone all the time. I came into her room at 6 AM, seeing she was already awake. Awake, sitting by the window, holding her doll close.
"Ms. Morrins?" I called softly.
She looked back at me, calmly. It was very unsettling, really, seeing both her and the doll staring back.
"Ally." She said.
"Hm?" I said back.
"Just call me Ally." She said.
"Oh... Alright..." I said.
"You seem nervous," She said. "You believe those rumors too, I suppose?"
I jolted up. "You know?"
"I may be old, but I'm not deaf...yet."
I frowned, feeling somewhat guilty now. "Why do you hold that doll though?" I mustered up the courage to ask. "You talk to nobody, and care about that doll like it's a really baby, why?"
For the first time, I saw Ally smile. "I guess, in some ways...she is real."
I couldn't help but sink back into my previous mindset at that, and she knew it too. She frowned after that.
"This was my daughter's doll,"