by A. A. Vacco
A wave of defeat washed over him. He watched the raging orange beast burst through the kitchen door and devour the table and cabinets. Frank saw the fierce glow dimming as his eyes grew heavier and heavier. Soon, he slipped unconscious, and the final curtain closed on his world. Outside, a gust of wind scattered the ash pile in the fire pit. Propped against the metal basin facing the yard, out of view from the kitchen, sat a slightly singed, but perfectly intact porcelain figure with a crimson painted smirk across its pale face.
Then, darkness.
10
Millerton, IL, 1984
Kat pulled up to Alex's house later that evening. The sky was almost dark, and she felt the temperature drop noticeably. She laid her bike against the side of the garage and pushed her way through the screen door that Alex had left unlocked for her. Alex's mom greeted her with a warm hug and a table full of food. Kat was trying to figure out how to politely decline when Alex popped in from the other room. Laughing, he said, "Mom, let her breathe! C'mon in Kat. We can decide food later. But as far as soda goes...,"
"Coke, please."
Alex nodded, opened the fridge, and produced two glass bottles. He slid one across the counter toward Kat.
His mother smiled. "So glad you're here, Kat! It's been a little while. How're you? How's your family? We need to get your parents in on another Euchre night soon!"
A return smile lit Kat’s face. She loved that the Kingmans and her family were close. It made starting over again much easier. She agreed to helping set up a game night and thanked Mrs. Kingman for having her over. Alex's mom gave Kat another squeeze and started to clean a stack of dishes. Alex and Kat headed toward the TV room in the back of the house. It was perfect for movies. A tan, worn out couch stretched across the back wall, opposite the TV set. The room stayed dark for optimal viewing, and there were always plenty of blankets and floor space for when the couch became crowded. The room also had a faded maroon recliner in the corner, often reserved for Alex's father. Sometimes, when he wasn't using it, Kat claimed it as her throne and Alex usually fought her for the spot. Between the couch and the recliner stood a short metal coffee table. Alex set out two coasters and they put their bottles down. Kat wrapped herself in one of the blankets and sat on the floor with her back against the couch.
"Behold," professed Alex, as he held a Wal-Mart bag out with one arm, "The reason we are gathered here tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you," he reached in and produced an unopened copy of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, "Harrison Ford in his latest performance!"
Kat laughed and applauded. Continuing with his presentation, Alex spun dramatically toward the TV set and unveiled the tape by powerfully pulling open the case. The snap made Kat jump and Alex shook his head with a snicker. He put the tape into the VCR and plopped down next to her.
As Alex and Kat embarked on a vicarious journey to find a stolen artifact with Harrison Ford, Elle sat down to dinner with her family a few houses away. Elle's younger brother Scott sat facing her. Age five and full of energy, Elle wondered if anything slowed the kid down. She loved the randomness he brought to the family and didn't mind watching him when their parents were out. This evening, Scott took it upon himself to redecorate the table with the vegetables. He placed the string beans end to end, circling his plate. He then placed a pea every few inches around the beans, and between those spaces, a carrot slice. Elle knew she should probably intervene, but for a five-year-old, it was a fairly advanced pattern, so she left it alone. Elle's mom stood with her back to them, focusing on the stove top while her dad rummaged through the fridge, attempting to locate a beer. "Make it two," Elle heard her mom call to him, and, "You got it, Babe," from her dad.
Judy and Garrett Carter lived in Millerton for the last twenty years. They moved from the suburbs of Chicago after high school, got married, started their family and never looked back. The community knew the couple well, along with Elle and Scott. Garrett worked as a fireman and Judy started out teaching at the local school, but embraced being a full-time mom once Elle came along. They shared a fun, playful dynamic and provided a warm environment to anyone who came through their front door.
“Oh, Scottie, sweetie, what—,”
“—an interesting collage you created!” Judy interrupted Garrett. “Tell me what you made!”
Scott grinned. “I put a green circle ‘round the plate. Cause we can’t draw on the table, but this isn’t drawings. This is food! And food goes on tables!”
Elle giggled into her hands. The kid had a point. Garrett, now smiling too, pressed further with, “Well, that’s great, Buddy! And you added some carrots for colors too?”
“Yea. Plust I don’t like them.” Scott scrunched up his nose as he said this.
“Fair enough, but you got to give us three bites before we will let you donate the rest to your table art," Garrett answered, bringing his and Judy’s beers over and setting them down at the table.
Judy followed, pork chops in one hand and gravy in the other. “So Ellbea, tell us what you were up to all day," she said, as she set the rest of dinner down.
Elle reached for a pork chop. “Oh, nothing crazy.”
Garrett took a sip of his beer. “Well, there had to be something, E, we didn’t see you after church. You and Kat vanished on us.”
“Oh right, um, I got a job for the winter,” said Elle. Dousing her plate with gravy, she glanced at her parents, who seemed surprised.
“What? Why the raised eyebrows?”
Judy smiled, “No, Honey, that’s wonderful. We just thought you’d take the winter off. But fantastic! Who hired you?”
“Mrs. Valor. Said she needed some help at the mansion. Kat’s doing it too.”
Judy and Garrett exchanged a quick glance. “Uh huh, and tell me, Elle, you don’t think that mansion is better left, well, alone and kept far away from?” Judy’s voice quickened as she said this.
“No? Oh c’mon, you guys are scared of the place too, aren’t you? You let Scott go there for cripes sake! The whole town knows the house has a beat of its own. This isn’t a new thing.”
Judy nodded. “No, no it isn’t new, but there’s a difference between walking through for a half hour versus spending all your free time there. You’ll be spending a lot of time on the property. I just don’t want things to, you know, escalate.”
Elle chewed her food a moment, then said, “Well, I’m confused. Nothing worse happens than the stupid dolls’ heads and eyes moving. Sure, occasional footsteps, doors opening and closing, but it isn’t anything that we don’t know about or haven’t seen.”
“Elle, don’t get upset, I’m not saying you’re wrong. I just, I don’t know, it seems—,”
“Cursed," cut in Garrett with an affirming nod toward his wife.
Judy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Garrett, we all know it’s cursed. What I mean is, it’s out of anyone’s control. No one can promise it won’t get worse, no one can make it go away. It’s its own entity. And, to be frank, it’s creepy.”
Elle smiled. “Yea, it is. I guess I just expect it since it really hasn’t changed. What about this: if things get worse, or I feel like Kat and I are in danger, we’ll stop going?”
With another sip of his beer, Garrett looked to Judy, who took a gulp of hers and paused. Elle was independent and stubborn. If they said no and banned her, she’d probably sneak off and work there anyways. She always had odd forms of rebelling. Judy sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Ok, Ellbea, ok. But, promise me, if it gets weirder than it already is, or if you start having nightmares or stuff seems like it’s happening and you’re not at the mansion, or if we start experiencing weird stuff here, it’s over.”
“Mom, the dolls like that place too much to follow me home. I think you’d have to steal one to get it to take over your own house.”
“Ok, so for the sake of all sanity, don’t do that either," added Garrett.
“Yea, no, I won’t. I promise. I’ll keep work at work.” Elle glanced at Scott, wh
o was attempting to saw his pork chop in half with a butter knife.
“Oops, right, guess that’s my cue," laughed Garrett as he reached over to help.
Elle finished dinner and went to her room to do her homework. While they cleaned up the kitchen, Judy and Garrett discussed Elle’s new employment in more detail. In the end, they concluded that it was out of their hands; both the activities of the house and Elle’s decision to work there.
“Think she’d notice if we stuck a cross, salt, and a candle in her purse in case she needs to ward anything off?” asked Judy.
“Pretty sure. Let’s give it a week and she how she does. If something seems off, we’ll know. And we can press it further, ok?”
Garrett kissed Judy on the forehead and made his way into the living room where Scott was already stationed and playing with his toys. Judy heard the TV flick on and the evening news mumbling in the background. She finished off the rest of her beer and went to join them.
11
New York City, NY, 1887
Myra and Frank walked hand in hand toward the yellow and red canopy tops that covered the county fairgrounds. The loose dirt created a low cloud of dust that trailed behind them as they stepped. Myra’s head rested against Frank’s arm, while keeping their hands firmly clasped. In her bag, she carried Lucy among the rest of the contents.
“What do you want to see first, Love? The man-eating tiger? The bearded lady? Food?” Frank asked her with a smile.
Myra glanced up at him. “Hm, that’s a tricky one. Maybe a trip to the chocolate stand, and then I’d love to see the tiger! Though I find it hard to believe he eats people.”
Frank chuckled. “No, of course he doesn’t. They just have to say that to get people to want to see him! Or, her.”
Myra nodded and they made their way toward a chocolatier, trying his hand at different candy designs. The pair spent the entire afternoon trying new foods, seeing strange sights from allegedly all over the world, and by the end of it, Frank purchased a beautiful sapphire necklace and gently clasped it around Myra’s neck. “You’re beautiful and you deserve beautiful things," he told her, as he often did.
Myra smiled and pressed her hand over the deep oceanic-colored gem, admiring its striking appearance. She now had a collection of sparkling jewelry from Frank, along with dresses, coats, and of course, shoes. It was his way of making up for his frequent absences due to work. When home, she spent most of her time alone. His constant additions to her wardrobe seemed to be his way of acknowledging this.
Before they left, Myra noticed a booth where a young woman stood, selling porcelain dolls. Knowing how much she appreciated Lucy, Myra was curious to see if there was another worth purchasing. Frank was busy eyeing the conjoined twins and their juggling act. Not wanting to break his focus, Myra took a few steps back and made her way to the doll booth.
“Come, Child," came a sweet, accented voice.
Myra looked up and saw the young woman motioning at her. The woman was small, thin, and adorned in vividly colored shrouds of material draped into a dress. She had large silver earrings and wore many gemstone rings, at least one per finger. She had on purple eyeshadow and ruby red lipstick. Myra walked over and started to introduce herself. “Hello, my name is Myra. Your dolls are lovely.”
“Hm, not just dolls, my Dear. No, these each carry their own tune.”
“Oh yes! I can see that no two are the same.”
“That is for certain," the woman’s dark eyes stared at Myra’s pale countenance.
“I have one of my own...well not entirely like yours, but a doll that I take great care of. I might possibly get another one, you know, a matching set!” said Myra.
“Ah, yes. These dolls do well with others. I made each one myself, I would know. You want to see how it’s done?”
Myra nodded and as an excited smile overtook her face. The woman walked toward the back of the tent, and lifted the corner, taking them behind the scenes of the carnival. Myra stared at all the people moving carts and boxes. She hadn’t considered the amount of work behind one of these events. Directly behind the woman’s tent were three chairs. An older woman that could easily be related to the one who summoned Myra occupied one already. She had a large, woven basket beside her on the ground. Dressed similarly to the younger woman, but with a much heavier figure, the older woman glanced at Myra and smiled. “I’m Panella, Dear. Have a seat.”
Myra gingerly sat across from Panella, who seemed all too comfortable with whatever was about to take place, like she’s anticipating something, thought Myra.
The other woman, fastening the ties to the tent where they entered, turned around and stood over Myra’s shoulder. She bent down and put her lips close to Myra’s ear and whispered, “And I’m Renni. Pleasure is ours, Child.”
A queasy sensation started to work its way through Myra’s stomach. Her heart rate picked up, and she began to look around for a way to escape. But of course she could get away. They hadn’t held her hostage, tied her down, even threatened her, for that matter. So why was she nervous? She took Lucy from her bag and sat the doll on her lap, hugging it close to her.
Renni broke her train of thought. “You seemed so captivated by the dolls, Dear. We thought it best you learn more about them.”
Myra cocked her head, puzzled. “Well, I mean, yes, I do appreciate the work you’ve done on them. Anyone can see how personalized you’ve made each one. But, you don’t need to show me how to make them from the start. I get the general idea--,”
Panella reached into the basket and produced two more dolls. Each mirrored the image of her and Renni. “These are the originals, Dear. We started with this, and then created more...marketable styles for others to purchase.”
Panella placed both dolls in a seated position on the vacant chair between her and Myra. Both dolls had mocha colored skin, dark eyes, and maroon painted lips. The detail on each was exquisite. Myra hadn’t seen anything quite like it. The eyelids were even moveable. When Panella tilted one back, the eyes closed, and opened again once Panella sat it upright. The hairstyles matched the women’s. The clothes were hand-sewn, brightly colored layers of fabric that formed dresses. The shoulders rotated the upper limbs, knees bent and extended, and the heads could turn whichever way the women chose to position them.
“They’re just lovely!” exclaimed Myra. “Goodness, how much time did you take to get them to look so lifelike?”
With weighted smiles and an exchange of serious expressions, Renni placed her hand on Myra’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “We do more than construct the dolls," she said.
“We give them life. We bring them to life," continued Panella.
The uneasiness returned. “Bring them to life? You don’t mean literally, do you? You can’t do that. L-life, the soul, that c-comes from God!” Myra paused to consider this statement and added, “or whomever you believe in.”
Renni let out a soft laugh. “Well, God sometimes needs a hand bringing life into the world.”
Panella started mumbling a chant in a language unfamiliar to Myra. She knew Latin, French, and German, but it wasn’t similar to any of those.
“S-stop, what are you doing?” Myra felt Renni’s grip tighten.
“Shh, you’ll see, you’ll see, Child," whispered Renni. Myra could feel the warmth of her breath as she said this.
Panella paused, opened her eyes, and stared at Myra and Renni. “Look. Here they are.”
Myra’s eyes widened. She didn’t believe what she saw. This was a dream, it had to be a dream! But as her mind screamed for her to wake up, her eyes watched as the two dolls turned their heads toward her, blinked several times, and grinned. Their small chests even moved up and down, as if they were actually breathing. The one closest to Panella spoke first, in a way. It would turn to Panella, and then back to Myra, the lips moved, but Myra heard nothing.
“No, no, no, no!” whimpered Myra. She couldn’t stand up. Renni now placed her other hand on the remaining shoulder and held her
down. She continued whispering in her enchanting, soft tone. “Yes. Wait. Watch, Dear.”
The dolls came to life. That was the only way Myra could describe the situation to herself. They were no longer porcelain dolls. Well, the skin stayed porcelain. Everything stayed the same material, but it was like someone placed a person inside these dolls and that person could now make them move, talk, and see.
The dolls moved their heads, glancing at Renni and Panella as if for permission to do anything further. The two women just smiled as Myra struggled to free herself from Renni’s grip.
“You said no one can create a new soul," said Renni. “But we do not create new souls. No, we share our own with what we treasure, and they in turn, become our extension.”
“I don’t know what you mean," grunted Myra, continuing to thrust her shoulders side to side, still unable to break Renni’s hold on her.
The two women only grinned at her. “The dolls speak their own language, and only the one they belong to can hear what they say," said Renni.
“Why would you curse such beautiful dolls?” mumbled Myra.
“Curse? We do not curse things. Magic is not evil unless it produces evil or is intended for evil. We use the energy to create amusement. We don’t believe in curses," answered Panella.