What a Doll

"Do you like it?" Gran asked, leaning forward slightly in her rocker. She smelled of Bengay and stale cigarettes, her white hair pulled tightly back from her wrinkled face.
"I found her at an antique store down in Arlington."

"It's—she's—" Fay stammered, staring down into the glass blue eyes of the porcelain doll that Gran had sitting on her lap. "Thank you Gran," She said finally.

Fay took the doll cautiously, it's moth eaten dress rough beneath her fingers.

"You know I had a doll almost exactly like that one when I was a girl," Gran said as she lifted her knitting, her arthritic hands moving with surprising speed as she worked the needles.

"She smells funny," Fay grumbled, attempting to hold the doll further away.

"It's just from age and sitting in the back of a musty antique store," Gran explained without glancing up from her knitting. "Maybe if you're good today we can go and buy some fabric and make her a pretty new dress."

"Okay!" Fay said happily, though her smile faded when she met the cold blue eyes of the doll.

"What will you call her?" Gran asked, reaching for the glass of iced tea that was sweating on her T.V. tray.

"I don't know," Fay murmured, mesmerized by the stark eyes which contrasted oddly with the cherubic features of the doll's face.

"How about Lucy?" Gran said with a smile, as if recalling some long ago memory. "That's what I named the very first doll that my mother bought me."

"Lucy," Fay said to the doll, its eyes holding a strange glow in the muted light of the den.

Gran smiled widely, revealing the crows feet that slanted harshly at her temples. "Run along and play with Lucy now, Fay," she said after switching on the old television set which sat in the corner. "My stories are on."

Fay walked down the hall to her bedroom, that odd smell which reminded her of bug spray and wet dog growing stronger by the second. She sat the doll—Lucy, carefully in the far corner with her stuffed animals and other dolls, careful not to let Lucy touch any of them for fear of transferring that sickeningly sweet smell onto one of her beloved toys.

Fay stared down at the porcelain doll whose head hung at an odd right angle where the stitching at its neck had begun to tear away.

Fay had to admit that the doll was pretty, with angelic features and tumbling blonde curls which framed its pale face. The light green dress that it wore was moth eaten and faded, and its little patent leather shoes were cracked beyond repair. Fay imagined that she could grow to love the doll, but its eyes were so unsettling that she didn't even want it in her room. The eyes were cold emotionless pits of blue, which followed her every move.

Deciding that she was being silly, Fay went to her small pink desk to put the finishing touches on a fairy picture that she had been working on for Gran. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore the doll which she could see out of the corner of her eye, seeming to move its tiny hands back and forth at its sides.

Fay squeezed her eyes shut, trying to reign in her imagination.

"Don't be such a baby," Fay scolded aloud. "It's just a stupid old doll."

"Ma-ma," the doll said loudly.

Fay jumped up from her desk and threw her back against the wall, staring over at the doll which as far as she could tell, hadn't moved.

"Ma-ma," it said again.

Fay let out a shaky breath when she realized that the doll probably had some kind of voice box like several of her other dolls.

"You scared me Lucy!" Fay said, hoping that they could be friends. After all, Fay was her mama now.

"Ma-ma," the doll said slowly, sounding like one of granny's old records when it slows way down.

Fay frowned, inching closer to the doll. She approached it slowly, the way she would tiptoe up on a sparrow that she spotted on the back porch, hoping to get as close as possible before it could spring to life. The image of the doll launching itself at her face popped into Fay's head without warning and she hesitated at the unexpected thought before continuing the few steps towards the doll.

"I think you're broken Lucy," Fay said, lifting the doll and examining it's back in search of a Velcro opening where she could put batteries, similar to the one's in her other talking dolls. From what she could tell, the doll was stitched up tight. She squeezed the dolls torso, down its little stuffed legs and all the way up to where its tiny porcelain hands where sewn on, but she didn't find anything.

"Ma-ma," The doll said in that slow voice again.  Fay cried out, throwing the doll away from herself. Its eyes seemed to widen as it sailed through the air, its tiny arms outstretched as it hit the ground on its back. Fay watched in horror as it skittered across the hardwood floor and under her bed.

Fay stood stock still for several minutes, so petrified that she began to hear the strange mama even in her imagination. She was in real trouble, because she had to go to the bathroom, and the only way to do that was to walk past her bed to get to the door, which meant getting near where the doll lay sprawled under her bed, waiting for the opportunity to grab one of her ankles.

After several minutes of staring down at the dark gap beneath her bed, Fay couldn't stop herself from bouncing side to side in what Gran had dubbed "Fay's potty dance." Her fear and pounding heart only added to her increasing need to go to the bathroom, and she grabbed herself in a way that Gran would have called unladylike. What if she tried to run past her bed but wasn't quite fast enough, and tiny porcelain hands dragged her away into the darkness? Fay would rather stand there and wet herself than be dragged into the world of goblins and ghouls that she was certain existed beneath her bed.

"What do you want for lunch baby?" Gran called from the living room. Somehow the sound of her voice brought Fay back down to reality, and the horrors she was beginning to imagine were pushed aside, giving her the courage to sprint past her bed and into the hallway.

With a final glance over her shoulder to make sure that the doll wasn't crawling out from its hiding place, Fay bounded down the hallway and into the bathroom.

"Peanut butter and jelly please!" Fay called as she fumbled with the button on the front of her jean shorts.

Once the toilet was flushed and her hands washed, Fay skipped down the hallway to the kitchen, all concern about the doll lying under her bed fading when she saw her Gran leaning over a plate of bread slathered generously with peanut butter.

~~~

With a full tummy, Fay walked down the hall humming a song she had learned on the school playground the week before. It wasn't until she reached her bedroom door that she remembered the doll. Her heart sank, and she considered running and asking Gran to get the doll for her. She didn't want to hurt Gran's feelings by telling her that she didn't like that old doll, but she was also afraid that she might get in trouble and have to go to bed with no television if granny got the doll for her and it was broken or messed up from being thrown.

Taking a deep breath Fay got down on her hands and knees, carefully lifting the edge of the floral bed skirt. The light from her room slanted across the contents beneath her bed--several board games, a few boxes, but no doll.

She frowned into the dark space, even braved stretching her tiny arm into the space to move things around. But there was no sign of the doll. She let the skirt drop and climbed up onto her knees. She let out a small cry when she saw that the doll was sitting in the center of her bed. It was facing straight ahead, but those horrible eyes stared right at Fay.

"Ma-ma, why you hurt me?" It said in that monotone voice.

Fay let loose with a scream so loud it hurt her ears.

"What on earth is the matter!" Gran panted when she came around the corner into Fay's room. She was still holding her knitting, her hand resting on the doorjamb as she caught her breath.

"It's the doll Gran!" Fay sobbed, throwing her arms around Granny's waist. "She was talking to me and her eyes are scary! She's a bad doll Gran, I don't want her!"

Fay cried harder against Gran's apron, peeking out only once to find that the doll was still sitting on her bed.

Gran stroked Fay's head gently, shushing her and rocking back and forth.

"Alright baby, alright," Gran said as she patted the back of Fay's head. "I'll put her somewhere else. You just calm down now. It was just your imagination running wild."

Gran reached out for the doll and Fay cringed, half expecting it to open its mouth to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth, biting her poor granny on the arm. But it didn't, it just glared down at Fay with those horrible eyes as granny held it in one arm and left the room.

Fay sat down on the bed and sighed, relief washing through her. Maybe she had been imagining the whole thing. Ms. Summers, her teacher, always said that she had the most vivid imagination of any student she had ever had. Fay thought it was a good thing, until granny was called to the school because of the tall tales that Fay was telling her classmates on the playground.

"Oh dear God!" Gran cried from the kitchen. Fay jumped up off the bed and looked out into the hallway.

"Gran?" Fay called hesitantly. She waited a few moments but heard no response. "Gran are you okay?"

The sound of the pots and pans which hung over the kitchen stove crashing to the linoleum floor made Fay jump, and was followed by a louder thud. Then there was only silence.

"Gran?" Fay cried.

Silence.

"Gran, what happened?" Fay called, her voice shaking.

The hallway which led from the back of the house towards the kitchen was always dark, so Fay could only make out the small area which was illuminated by her bedroom light. The hall light switch was directly across from her bedroom door, but Fay couldn't seem to make herself move. She didn't want some creature in the dark to grab her arm and pull her into the blackness.

Do you wanna get killed by the doll or eaten by a creature in the darkness? Those are the choices, so quit being such a whinny pants.

Fay decided to take her chances with the creature in the dark, so she leaned into the shadows and flicked the switch, the hallway instantly illuminated in yellowish light.

Fay let out a shaky breath when she saw that the hallway was empty, but felt panic seep through her once again when she realized that granny could be really hurt.

"Gran?" Fay said softly, inching her way along the wall to her right. "Gra—"

"Ma-ma, why you hurt me?" The doll growled just as its head peeked around the corner.

Fay stopped in her tracks, and carefully began to inch her way back towards her bedroom.

Tears sprang into her eyes as she watched the doll's tiny frame step around the corner, looking particularly horrifying in her blurred vision.

"Ma-ma, why you do that? Why you hurt me?" The doll took a few steps forward with every step that Fay took backwards. Fay shook her head back and forth, her mouth opening and closing to try and find words.

The dolls little shoes made a soft tapping on the hardwood floor, its little arms outstretched towards Fay, its mouth still frozen in a sweet smile framed with dimples.
Only the eyes were different—pure black which glowed from within.

The doll stopped just a few feet away from Fay so that it had to stare up at her to meet her eyes. Its outstretched arms lowered slowly to its sides, its left arm disappearing behind its back.

"Ma-ma, why you no love me? I love you ma-ma," the doll said, its voice sounding musical and sweet. "Don't you love me too?"

Tears streamed down Fay's cheeks as she stared down at the little doll, those soulless black eyes staring up at her pleadingly.

"I'm scared of you," Fay sobbed.

The doll looked down at the floor, shaking its head slowly back and forth. Its left arm reappeared from behind its back, its porcelain fingers wrapped around a razorblade.

"Poor ma-ma," It growled. Its head shot up quickly, its porcelain face cracked and bloody, its grin pulled wide to reveal blackened teeth. "That was the wrong answer."