The Doll Maker

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a little bit about the owner of 'The Pale Beauties' store.

Submitted: May 28, 2016

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Submitted: May 28, 2016

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"Crick, crack, it's cracking. They stare at me with those button eyes. Crick, crack, it's cracking. Their unfeeling faces seem to always change. Crick, crack, it's cracking. Their frozen hands and legs seem to always move." I sang. My eyes darted around the room and my lips formed those words.

"Found you!" I reached my hand and took a needle out of the closet.

Briskly walking back to my desk I ignored the stares directed at me.

I knew, no matter what I did, the stares wouldn't disappear. They would always follow my every movement. To be honest, I've grown accustomed to them.

They may not have souls, but they do have a mind. Whenever I'm in the room they seem to be alive, but, when I'm gone, they seem to die. 

Their porcelain bodies start to gain life and their eyes follow my gestures.

It's only around me. They wake up only with me around, and only I know about it. To others, they're just dolls standing on shelves, tables and laying on floors and beds. However, I know, that they're alive. They're just too shy to show it.

For some reason they like me, and I like them. They smile at me, and I smile at them. We laugh and talk. Sometimes they give me presents.

However, they drive me insane. They only look, no, stare, at me. They only talk to me, only laugh with me. It's always only me. They're obsessed with me.

Last week someone insulted me. He went missing. 

The door opened. "Jack, stop working on those ugly dolls! They're stupid anyways!" said my little sister. 

Crimson red. It's on the floors, on my hands.

"Oops, I thought I could take her eyes, they would fit for my new dolly! I guess I need to make new parts for Lily as well!" 

Thoughts ran through my head. Realizations of what I just did, what I just said. 

Is this me? Or is it the dolls?

"Whatever, my life was boring anyway!" I said.

I gave into the dolls. I don't care anymore. 

After hours of work I made a pretty doll.

"Now I just need to wash off the blood from your face, Lily!" 

A part of me, feels terrible. I mean, my own sister insulted my children.

"Well, time to go to sleep!" I said and climbed under my sheets. 

Closing my eyes I thought, maybe I should open a shop for my children. They need somewhere to play as well as some new toys. 

The blood sank deep into my clothes and left stains on my soul. I realized I wasn't only crazy, but I was in love with it. 

I want to play with these dolls. I want to play this cruel game, which I enjoy so much.

"Crick, crack, it cracked. They stare at me with those button eyes. Crick, crack, it cracked. Their unfeeling faces seem to always change. Crick, crack, it cracked. Their frozen hands and legs seem to always move." I murmured and fell into deep slumber.


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