The January Selected Story is by Erika Lindsen
Please feel free to email Erika at: garduno519@yahoo.com
NIGHT OF THE DOLLS
by Erika Lindsen
I have always hated my owner's older brother. So much so that I wish I could kill him. Unfortunately I cannot move. I am a paralyzed mummy on this earth just waiting to be released. Bee laughs. I can hear her ever-growing adorable chuckles underneath my head, which is lying on her chest. My noggin bounces as the roars rip through her torso, down to her stomach, and ultimately her toes. Beatrice, or Bee as her family calls her, has the kind of giggle the makes everyone want to smile with her. Except her brother, who snarls every time she does anything that doesn't center on him. My name is Anne, and I am a beloved toy, a porcelain doll.
“Anne your hair needs brushed,” Bee says, sitting in the car on the way to some kind of festival. Actually, I think it is the state fair.
She pulls out my pink, plastic brush with some popular cartoon character on it and pulls the tangles out of the side of my hair. She can't comb the back; all of my hair has fallen out over the years. I have been with Bee for four years now, since she was three.
I feel the car stop and Bee unbuckle her seatbelt. I am tossed around as the small child tries to crawl out of the back of her parent's SUV. I stare straight ahead, all that I can do, as flashes of other kids, balloons, and candy cross in front of my eyes. With my hair nicely fixed I am ready for another eventful day at a fair, listening to my owner's sibling.
I know he will complain about wanting more; more candy, more ice cream, more games. He will sit and complain until he gets everything he wants while Bee sits back and enjoys life. I wish I could do something more for her. I wish I could somehow end her family's suffering, give her redemption for years of suffering with a horrid brother. I couldn't care less to even learn his name. To me, he is just Bee's self-absorbed elder. I wish more than anything that he would leave her alone, give her some happiness.
“Look! There's a clown!” Bee points out as we enter the fair.
“I hate the clowns,” her brother says.
“I love talking to them, David!”
“Only babies like clowns. Grow up.”
“Guys, stop fighting,” their parents cut in.
“Mom, can we go see the clowns?” Bee holds on to her mother's hand. I'm in her other hand.
“David wants to go play the basketball game. We will after he wins a prize,” she says as she hugs Bee. My owner worships her mother, listens to every word she has to say. I have sat back and watched her follow mom from room to room, just to be near her.
I watch as kids run past me, some collide with me, even once knocking me to the ground. I am picked up and snuggled in those warm arms I love more than anything in this world. I see some games I know Bee would like; balloon popping, frog picking, apple bobbing, duck pond. I hope she gets a chance to play some of those games. I like the balloon popping game the best. Bee will get to throw a dart and try to pop balloons. If she pops three she wins a big prize. She is pretty good at that game; usually hits two or three, so the prize she wins is good.
I wait patiently while Bee's brother gets to play every game he wants, and ride every ride he desires. His laughs are not as enjoyable as Bee's. His are more like nails on a chalk board to my sensitive ears. I don't wish I could laugh with him. I wish he would stop. I wish I could make him stop. I wish I could rip his tongue out of his head so he could never laugh again.
As the day draws to a close poor Bee hasn't had much fun. She has watched her sibling run all around the fair having his own fun. She has contently watched him and agreed to wait until after he is done. As we start to leave the fair, Bee sees a gypsy booth near the back of the park.
“Mommy can we have her tell us our fortunes?”
“Sure, Bee. You've been patient all day. We'll see what is in store for you.”
“Can I do it too?” Bee's brother asks.
“We'll see. She gets to have a chance at doing something she wants to do.”
We walk over to the gypsy and Bee stands in front of her, putting me to her chest. I stare at a woman wearing a white shirt with a red vest over it. Decorated on the red vest is gold and purple jewelry dangling. The woman has black hair and with the same color eye make-up. She is wearing a gold headband in her hair, like a tiara. Her plum colored lips open to speak to us, “My dear, sit down. You will have fun!”
As Bee gets comfortable in her chair, she says “Hi.”
“What brings you to Madam Clarice today?”
“I want to get my fortune told.”
“Come on young one, you will have great fortune. Let me pull out my trusty tarots and have you pick a card.” She mixes up the card then lays them on the table, spanning the width. Bee stares at the cards and picks one, towards the left near the end.
“Ah, let me see now,” the gypsy says as she stares at the card for a minute. “Oh young lady, you have chosen The Sun.”
“What does that mean?” Bee asks, totally involved in what is being said.
“You will have great satisfaction and accomplishment. Is there something, maybe in school, that is important to you?”
“I am in a tumbling class, and we have a show coming up.”
“Then that must be it. You will do lovely in the show.”
“Does the card mean anything else?” Bee asks, eagerly.
“You will have plenty of joy and love in your life. Those around you will make you happy and fill your heart with love.”
“Can I be next?” Bee's sibling asks. Without waiting for an answer he picks up a card and hands it to the gypsy.
“David, it's not your turn,” Bee's mom says to him.
“It's okay, Ma'am. I'll see what this young lad has in his future.” She turns the card around, and if rehearsed her eyes widen in horror.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing young man, pick another card.”
“No, I want to know what that one said.”
“It was The Devil.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you are going to have an unexpected failure or disaster. Nothing good comes from The Devil.”
“Shut up old lady, you're full of it,” he snarls at the gypsy.
“David!” his mother yells as she grabs his shoulder. “It's time to go home, and you are going straight to bed!”
Bee starts to get up before the gypsy says “Sit back down, young one. I want to give you a present.”
“What?”
“What is the most important thing you have?”
“I-I'm not sure.”
“What about this doll of yours?”
“Anne? She's my favorite toy. I take her everywhere.”
“Let me see her for a minute.”
Bee hands me over to the gypsy. I feel her rough digits against my stony head and arms. She wraps her palms around my body and starts mumbling some words I have never heard before. I start to shake as the words intensify. Suddenly she drops me to the table. “There, young one.” She hands me back.
“What did you do?”
“I gave you a present, through her.”
Bee looks into my eyes, not seeing a change. I stare back into hers, not noticing a difference. Then I start to feel heat through my body. My stuffing is being electrified, like energy is passing through me. I am snuggled against my owner's face, as we head to the front of the fair to the car. Once in the car Bee drops me in the seat next to hers, and I look at the all too familiar ceiling. My body is still radiating the energy, but it feels…alive. I feel like something new, different, real, is happening to me.
Once we get home it is Bee's bed time. She takes her bath and into her pajamas she goes. I lay on her bed, waiting for the night to begin. It was nice to see the smile on her face with the gypsy lady. I'm glad she had at least one great moment today.
As she curls up in bed I lay there, tucked in for the night. Suddenly my arm starts to move. It's not Bee moving…it's me. I can feel my arm moving, and all at my own will. I start to think about what it would be like for my arm to move toward my face. As I think it, it happens. My arm is in front of my mug, my palm on my nose. I stand up and start jumping for joy, not believing I am even moving. That gypsy gave me the power to animate, and be real. I feel like Bee. I feel like the happiest doll on this planet.
What can I do first? I hop down off of the bed and look around for something to do.
“The old lady had it coming!” Bee's brother yells from the hall. I move to the door to stare at him, talking back to his parents like usual. My hatred for him boils through my body, like burning lava it seers every fiber and thread I am made of. He walks into his bedroom and closes the door all but an inch.
I wiggle over to the door and push it open. He is lying in bed, breathing like he is frustrated. Now is my chance.
I walk over to the bed and pick up the pillow he has lying on the floor. I start to hear his snores, so I climb up on top of the bed and stare at his sleeping body. He has caused Bee so much trouble, so much hurt over the years. He has been a disaster to his parents and has caused misery to everyone he comes in contact with. I must end is reign of horror before he can wake another day and continue.
As I start to put the pillow overtop his face I see a mirror on his nightstand. I walk over and push it off of the table, crashing it into a million pieces on the floor. He shakes and stirs, but doesn't wake. I get down and grab the biggest, sharpest piece I can find. Climbing back onto his chest I mentally think It is over before plunging the glass into his eye. A gasp comes out of his throat as the life leaves his body. All of my hatred for him overpowers so I repeatedly push the glass into his face, as blood sprays across mine. Each stab is for Bee. She will never have to deal with the torture of having a big brother again. Never will she be embarrassed or sad because of something he did. I end his life so she can start hers.
When I finish I climb back down and sneak into Bee's room. I wipe my bloody hands on my apron and lay back down next to my beloved. I have done the ultimate love for my owner, and her happiness.
Wait, her parents have caused her just as much hurt by letting him get away with as much as he has over the years. It's their fault he was the way he was. I roll into the hollow of my being's arm, dreaming about taking more revenge in the name of the one I love more than life itself.
Erika Lindsen was born in "small town Ohio" in June 1987. In 2005 she received her cosmetology degree in high school, and quickly went to work. From a young age, all things scary and eerie turned Erika on to the world of horror. If it's Halloween, she is a happy girl. As an aspiring novelist, Erika is actively seeking representation for her work, which spans all genres. "Night of the Doll" is the first short story for Erika, who has been working on an urban fantasy novel titled Legends Among Us.
Erika loves taking beloved themes and turning them upside down. When not writing, she spends time with her husband and three pets, plus takes care of her nieces and nephew.
You can visit Erika at: erikalindsen.wordpress.com