With Strings Attached

by A. A. Vacco

  That vow was short-lived. Later that evening, safe in Elle’s decidedly un-haunted house, Elle badgered and eventually convinced Kat to return to the Doll House during the day to show her it wasn't as terrifying as her initial encounter. Kat wondered how any sane person could find comfort in the building, regardless of lighting. Still, she reluctantly agreed.

  "You'll see," coaxed Elle. "The night time always makes things spookier. Especially in bumpkin-nowhere, Illinois."

  Kat started to protest, but then remembered that everyone else in the town found nothing fearful about the mansion. Half-determined to understand this collective mindset, Kat answered with, "I'll give it another shot, but if it's just as awful, never again. I don't want to hear a word about it, any suggestions toward a third visit, nothing!"

  "Fine, fine, all that and a bag of chips."

  "Good. When do you want to revisit this nonsense?"

  Elle grinned. "Well it isn't like we are doing much this weekend. Mandatory Sunday service, and then nothing but grey skies and the crisp autumn air to contend with. Why don't we go then?"

  "Consider it a date," said Kat, and before Elle could say anything further, she added, "And Alex isn't invited. You two probably teamed up on me and made it even worse. You're flying solo this go-round. Aside from being with me."

  "The dynamic duo it is," Elle concurred with a nod.

  The two shook on it. They’d been sitting on Elle’s living room floor in sweatpants and hoodies, debating whether a jump start on their English assignments would be worth the time save. Since neither felt overly motivated to dive into Austen’s world of wit, they wound up sprawled over the couch with a box of Oreos between the two of them. They didn’t move until Kat’s mom dropped by to walk her daughter home.

  “Until tomorrow, Charlotte Mack.”

  Kat rolled her eyes. She also despised her full name, and regretted ever telling Elle there was more to it than just “Kat." The name Charlotte Marquette was far too formal and outdated for her liking. Kat felt a shortened version summed her up much better.

  “Later, Eleanor."

  Unable to suppress a smile, Elle responded with, “Get out.”

  They hugged and parted ways for the night.

  5

  New York City, NY: 1888

  Frank stood motionless, staring at the macabre scene of his wife’s insides strewn before him. Numbness entombed him as he slowly moved to call the police. His initial reaction was to lunge forward and stop the bleeding. The more he stared, though, the more he realized the bleeding was actually the entire left side of his wife's face, marred and disfigured. There wasn't a place to stop the bleeding unless he were to smother her entire head. But maybe? No, the logical side of his brain kicked in briefly enough to tell him there wasn't more he could do. Instead, with the police on the way, he gathered the doll and started to clean it. "Lucy," he whispered.

  This was the name Myra gave the life-like porcelain figure. With great care, he took a damp cloth from their kitchen and started to wipe the blood from the pale face. The dark eyes seemed clean, but he wiped them anyways, as if to erase the vision of their recently witnessed horror. He filled a basin with water and carried it back into the living room. He removed the hand-sewn dress and stockings from the doll and placed them into the cold water. Myra always said blood stains came out with cold water and a day's worth of patience. He hoped she was right, because there was a lot of it. A ruby swirl tainted the water's clarity, and as he squeezed the fabric, more crimson flourishes painted the basin. Frank was so mesmerized by the sight that he jumped when the police banged on the door. His trance-like state continued, as a swarm of officers, then medics, and finally, a health inspector came in and out. In the end, no one found anything more than a distraught, irrational woman unable to cope with her circumstances, and they all left Frank with their sincerest condolences. He was told he could stop by the morgue in the morning if he wished to view her remains. He did not. He just sat for a moment in the silence from the cold shoulder of the remaining night.

  Returning to the basin, Frank decided to replace the cherry-colored liquid with fresh water. He found it hard to believe that cold water by itself would remove the stains, but even without his wife there to argue the point, he didn’t feel like altering his course of action. The naked doll sat with a vacant stare in Frank’s direction. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, causing an icy churn in his gut, but at least the doll survived. It was, in fact, dropped face down once Myra passed.

  Returning with the basin once again, Frank began the process of scrubbing the blood splatter off the surrounding walls and surfaces. This time he added bleach to the water. He scrubbed until the sun blazed through the picture window in the east corner of the room. He realized he had been working since eleven o’clock the night prior, once all of the commotion settled. He also realized that he had scrubbed over areas that were already clean, but he kept seeing the splatter, seeing the brains of his wife falling in bloody clumps from her gaping skull, seeing red--

  Clah-clunk-CLASH!

  The noise interrupted Frank’s thoughts. He spun around to survey the room. Nothing looked out of place. Silence resumed, apart from his heart thundering in his chest. He saw no source of the cacophonous clatter. Just as he started to calm himself, with the reassurance of “just the house settling” or “probably a cat digging around some trash outside," he heard a faint clink, so soft he almost missed it. If it were any other time, he would’ve ignored it completely, but at that moment, a cold bead of sweat trickled down his shoulder blade. The hair on the back of his neck prickled like spines on a cactus. Wide eyed, he stood up and turned to face Lucy.

  The doll, previously seated against wooden chair that Myra occupied moments before ending her life, looked to have toppled over and rolled almost a foot from where Frank left her. No obvious chips or cracks were visible on her delicate face or body, which Frank anticipated to find. The clink, to Frank’s dismay, replicated when he witnessed the doll blink.

  “Oh no, no I did not sign up for this," muttered Frank. His lack of panic surprised him, but he attributed it to the shock of his evening. He sat the doll upright again and waited. Sure enough, within moments, the naked porcelain figure tipped to its side, rolled over twice, and blinked its black eyes in Frank’s direction. This time, Frank panicked.

  He sprinted into the kitchen and slammed the door behind him. He started to phone the police, but then realized how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. What would the police be able to do about a self-moving doll? They would assume he’d gone mad. Delusions brought on by stress, no doubt. He had been awake for over twenty-four hours, how could he explain that and the story of what he just saw? And how could he explain the feeling that Myra was in the house?

  “No," whispered Frank, “It’s not her.” He remembered a story an old neighbor had once told him, a tale Frank had previously laughed off as a ghost story meant to scare children. “It’s some demon taking over the doll,” he muttered “A curse; she took her life and it wasn’t hers to take. Maybe whatever was meant to take it later in her life showed up to reclaim her. She wasn’t available, so it took the next closest thing.” In his sleep-deprived state, this was the best rationale he could muster. He was not convinced of it entirely but it sounded good enough to wrap his mind around for the time being.

  He lost track of how long he stayed in the kitchen before he fell asleep. The doll, the suicide, the blood all swirled in his mind, creating a hypnotic effect. In his spinning state, he laid on the floor to peer under the kitchen door. This way, he could keep an eye on the doll, but would have a barrier should the thing somehow become mobile and come for him. Within moments, his weighted eyelids closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

  Frank found himself in what looked like one of his family’s wheat fields back in Kansas. He stood far enough away to where he could only see grains of wheat bowing in the wind. The late afternoon sun created an orange and gold glow as Frank surveyed the horizon. He spotted th
e wooden table owned by Myra’s family. He recognized it immediately because growing up, Myra’s father often told the story of how his father’s father built it as a teenager, and it still held up, even to this day. Frank approached the family table and sat in a chair provided with it. As he did this, another chair appeared across from him, and in it sat Lucy. The doll’s size increased to where she was almost... Life-sized, realized Frank.

  She sat with her hands clasped, but her face remained expressionless. The two stared at one another for what felt to Frank like hours. Finally, Lucy in a soft but clear tone, said, “I just wanted to go home.”

  The familiar phrase pierced through him like a bolt of electricity. Frank woke up drenched in sweat. I just want to go home, echoed in his mind. He peeled off his shirt and tossed it in a ball onto the floor. The late afternoon sun fell through the slats of the kitchen window, and it took Frank a moment to recall why he was on his kitchen floor. He wondered what else Lucy would have said if he hadn’t awoken so suddenly. Then, all of the memories from the past day and a half flooded his thoughts. He slowly sat up and started to sob.

  Afterwards, Frank pulled himself up onto shaky legs using the table for support. He rubbed his eyes, and cautiously opened the kitchen door. To his relief, the doll sat in its original place where he had set it when he first started to scour the walls and furnishings. Still, naked, and lifeless, the doll did not even blink. Frank stared at it for several minutes, and finally chalked up the prior instance as a result of combined shock and sleep deprivation. He picked up the doll and examined it from head to toe. With clarity, he recalled of how Myra acquired the doll.

  It was May of 1885, and they had been married for about a year. Together, they decided to make the move to New York City. It was a big change for both of them, but Frank knew it would be harder for Myra since she had a close bond with her two sisters. Myra’s family was a tight-knit group. Whenever she spent time with them, she always seemed to be at her best. She laughed more, lit the room with smiles, and never ran out of things to talk about. But she had told him it would be good for both of them to branch out. She needed more than just her hometown to hang her hat on, and he couldn’t agree more. Did he pressure her? He didn’t think that he had. At the time, it felt like a mutual decision.

  They packed as many of their belongings as they could fit into a few suitcases. The day they planned to take the train east, Myra’s younger sister Rosalyn, or “Rosie," gave her the doll. It was a toy they shared as children, and one that they both admired. They fought over it growing up, and when they reached the age where they liked each other more than their toys, they took turns dressing the doll and trading off who got to keep it in her room. The doll was more than a toy to the girls. It was a bridge they built between them. It kept them connected and giving the doll to Myra was Rosie’s way of extending the bridge over the distance the two would soon face.

  Frank remembered watching Myra caress the doll’s hair on the train ride to New York. Tears fell from her eyes and splashed onto Lucy’s face. It took Myra almost a full year to even change Lucy’s clothes because the ones originally worn were sewn by Rosie. The doll was more than a piece of decoration, or a sentimental childhood toy. It was the connection between Myra and her family, and Myra’s only piece of home in New York.

  6

  Millerton, IL: 1984

  Sunday arrived sooner than Kat hoped. She sat through a Sunday service that dragged on for two hours. Kat initially sat by Elle, but soon realized why none of her other friends did. Elle had this uncanny knack of making everyone else within earshot laugh while she maintained a straight face. Her family probably caught on, figured Kat, but found it worthwhile to ignore her rather than bring it to light. Elle also had a way of amplifying her antics once she knew it either bothered people or gained her an audience. Kat settled for a seat behind Elle. That way Elle couldn’t lean forward and whisper anything, attach anything to Kat’s back (oh yes, this was done more than once), or subtly move her hair, just enough to cause Kat to whip her head around.

  The two met in the back foyer after the service and outlined their afternoon. As the congregation exited the chapel, Elle snagged Mrs. Valor’s sleeve to ask something about the mansion. Kat assumed this, but missed the conversation when Alex pulled her aside to inquire about a movie later that night. The two shared the enjoyment of action flicks. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom just released on VHS, and Alex was the proud owner of a brand new copy.

  “Yea, yea, I’d love to come by later!” exclaimed Kat.

  She felt like she had waited forever for the stupid film to come out on video. Of course, she could have shelled out a few bucks to see it in the theater, but the drive to Uptown just seemed like an added inconvenience. Fortunately, Alex shared these sentiments.

  “Come over around six. We are going to eat a late lunch, sort of a family Sunday thing. But that usually ends around four. We can order a pizza and allow Harrison Ford to mesmerize us.”

  “You had me at pizza. Make sure it’s pepperoni. I’ll be there.”

  “Sure, sure. Hey uh," Alex shifted his weight, “let’s keep it just us, ok? Elle isn’t that big on action flicks anyways.”

  Kat started to protest, but then realized their potential situation, so she nodded in agreement. It was rare for the two of them to be alone, and Kat was curious to see how that would pan out. Besides, Elle wasn’t big on action flicks. Alex smiled, and moved to join his family who was on their way out. Kat found Elle, and the two girls made their way to their bikes where they had left them outside the church. They hopped on and headed to the Valor house.

  As they passed the Marionette Mansion, Kat noticed that with some sunlight and a little more insight to the place, the structure was almost appealing. Instead of following the gravel one-way drive toward the worn front porch, Elle veered right and the pair followed a well-paved, winding road toward the Valor residence. The Valor home, in contrast, was updated and allegedly free of any paranormal antics. Elle pounded on the dark oak door and Mrs. Valor answered with a smile.

  "Elle, Darling, good to see you. And Kathy is it?"

  "It's Kat," Kat answered, put off by the error.

  Mrs. Valor continued to smile, "Sorry, Kat. Of course. Come in, you two, what can I help you with? Here, give me your jackets and kick off your shoes over there."

  She pointed to a vacant area in the left corner of the entryway. The girls slid their shoes off and made their way into the main foyer. The Valor home stood as one of the largest homes in the area. The downstairs started as a small entryway, where the girls came in, and opened up into a foyer that served as the convergence point for three hallways. There was a short hall to the right that led to the living room and adjacent formal parlor. A longer hallway in the middle connected to a kitchen and additional dining room. There was also a staircase that stood between the middle hallway and the one on the left. The stairs were made of finished wood and at the top of them, a solid white door guarded a loft and spare bedroom. The short hallway on the left led to the master and two smaller bedrooms.

  Mrs. Valor led them through the foyer and turned right toward the living room. A sweet scent of cinnamon and flowers came from a jar of potpourri on a nearby end table. Elle heard classical music playing from one of the adjacent hallways, fading as they walked down the short hall. They stopped in the living room, and Kat and Elle took a seat on the dark leather sofa. Mrs. Valor sat across from them on a peach colored recliner.

  "We are wondering if you need any help taking care of the mansion this winter," began Elle.

  Mrs. Valor considered this. "We usually hire help to maintain the grounds and clean the interior. Great that you girls came by when you did, since the help we usually have won’t be returning this season. We need someone to take care of the usual pick up; vacuuming, dusting, all that fun stuff. You two wouldn't be responsible for any hefty repairs or yard maintenance, but some raking, weeding, and of course, taking out the garbage would help."


  Kat nodded. She appeared amenable to the offer. Elle wasn't huge on the outdoor care part, especially in the winter months. She then considered how everything would be decayed and she too nodded affirmatively.

  "Pay would be sufficient for your efforts. The mansion is open to the public and since people run out of things to do indoors, winter is one of our busier times. You two also have the option to man the front desk. You’ll take tickets, give directions, tell stories, keep visitors entertained. This would be weekends. The cleanup can be after hours, either during the week or once we close up for the night on weekends."

  Kat and Elle glanced at each other and shrugged. It would keep them busy. They both had a break from sports. Plus, they'd be making money, which was the selling point to both of them.

  "Now Kit," Mrs. Valor continued.

  "Kat."

  "Yes, yes, Kat. You are aware of the, err, unexplained occurrences that take place in the mansion, right?"

  Kat shot Elle a glare. "Yes, Ma'am, Elle introduced me to its phenomena just recently."

  "Good, good. Nothing dangerous ever takes place, so we have no reason to fear for the safety of our employees. With that said, you both will need to sign some paperwork and fill out a few forms. Just typical hire-on stuff to make it official. Let's see here," Mrs. Valor paused and bit the bottom of her lip, "pay is going to be $7.00 an hour. You'll have time cards to fill out when you come and go. We used to keep those in our main foyer here to monitor people closer, but that proved to be more of a nuisance than anything. So, you'll find the time cards in the top right drawer of the counter at the main entrance."

  "Thank you for the offer, Mrs. Valor. We’ll discuss it with our parents tonight. When can we give you an answer by?" asked the ever-so-calculated Elle, even though she knew they'd both end up taking the job.