(My first attempt of writing a horror novel!) Dolls are meant to be play-things for girls (maybe boys), but they're never considered human imitations... right?
A woman stared at the doll with her uncertain green eyes. It was a tough decision… She ran a thin slender hand through her long black hair and kept glancing towards the psychiatrist, to the eerie looking doll. She looked back up at the mental doctor and muttered, “I don’t know… This costs so much, can it possibly cure my daughter from her antisocial charisma? Is it really okay for her to befriend this… doll? An inanimate object?”
The psychiatrist looked at her through his rectangular spectacles and then backs at the doll. His hair was a like a mix of pepper and salt, and his trimmed beard was as silver as the moon that shone in the lake. He nodded vigorously, “Yes, I will guarantee you that she will be surrounded by other children in no time. Mrs. Furude, dolls and toys are what bring children together. They are a fragment needed to be in their small memory for the rest of their lives, remembering the good times, and possibly the bad.” He continued. “Dolls are brought up to give children, girls most likely, company, a friend, and to store their emotions in.”
Mrs. Furude stared harder at the psychiatrist, “Dr. Clark, I’m not so sure…” she didn’t even want to look at the doll. “It is so…” she shook her head, but Dr. Clark urged her to continue. “Can you give me the history upon this toy?” She was a very spiritual and a strong believer of the paranormal.
Dr. Clark nodded stiffly, “But of course… This doll has come down from my family for many generations, even back farther during the pandemic Bubonic plague. It was made in Italy by a famous craftsman named Marcus Facinelli and was imported to England where it was first given to a family by the surname of Francis. The family had given to their first daughter, then passed it down to the next child, then next, until they were accused as witches and was sent for trial at the Salem Witch Trial. They were hung, and the doll was put up for auction and imported once again to America. My great, great, great grandfather bought it as a gift for his daughter, and so it was passed down to each and every child. It was passed down to my sister who never got married, and so she gave it to me to give to my daughter who is now soon to be wed. They have a son and so my ancestor’s trail is complete I only believe that this doll will cause good instead of harm, Mrs. Furude.” He finished.
Mrs. Furude gulped before answering, “Alright… I’ll buy it.” She was an easy target when it comes to ancient items, especially from the Renaissance where intellect was first born. She was doing it for her five-year-old daughter’s sake. “How much is it?” she asked.
“Fifty dollars exactly.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, “That’s so cheap! There must be a catch… Something this old must be worth millions.” she narrowed her dark green eyes at the doctor.
Dr. Clark chuckled and waved his hands left to right while shaking his head innocently, “Well… You see, this doll is so old, I’m afraid it might break. Though, judging from your daughter’s shy personality, she’ll do just fine with it.”
The woman sighed and paid, taking the doll, and bid farewell to the psychiatrist. She looked down at the doll and shivered. It was beautiful, yes, but so irresistibly old it looked haunting. She could easily tell it was made from porcelain and the eyes closed whenever it was laid down on its back. The dress however, was simply white, a few gray stains showed, and the baby blue lace hid most of the stain. The hair was neat with dark brown curls that look like ringlets that fell to the doll’s back and framed its pale face. Strangely enough, the doll’s face structure wasn’t so chubby like most porcelain dolls; it was pretty thin like a real girl’s face. She bent one of the doll’s arms and noticed that it was stiff; it wouldn’t move or even budge. “Some doll…” she pursed her lips in disappointment as she finally walked out into the parking lot and towards her silver Corvette.