Kragon
Wandering Fiend
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![[*]](./images/darkicon/default_icon.gif) posted on 2-13-2008 at 17:24 |
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Dolls (short story)
I wrote this story about ten years ago. It was posted on my wife's website for a while until she closed the site down. It was also stolen off that
sight. I found it posted on some 14 year old's Myspace. But what can you do? I never had it copy written so, my lost. But I still like it. It's a
good little story. I came across it today going through some of my old files. So I'm placing it here. Do what you want with it. Have fun, and I hope
you enjoy it!
Dolls
That was when I hit the fucker. I hit him hard and square on the bridge of the nose; with a hammer, and watched in delight as his funny, laughing
face caved in and gushed red-black blood.
I smiled, knowing that I had finally killed him.
And that was when he started laughing at me, his wicked pink plastic face melding back together from that blow that I’d dealt him. Giggling, I let out
a deep sigh and reached for the hacksaw amidst the pile of torture implements scattered on the table.
I bought him for my daughters fourth birthday.
I remember walking into the toy section of Wal-Mart, sweating under those phosphorescent lights as I turned a corner and faced a thousand “My Pal”
dolls smiling sickly from the windows of there bright pink boxes. Out of the corners of my eyes I even saw them turn their tiny heads and grin at me
through little pairs of fangs as I walked past them.
Fuck I hate them!
Ever since I was a kid, I was all too aware of the truth behind dolls.
I was five and my parents had let me stay up late to watch “Fantasy Island” on T.V. You know, the one with the midget named “Tattoo”? And in that
episode I was made aware that dolls came to life at midnight and ran amok.
I took the hacksaw in my hand and pondered over the little guy bound in the tiny red plastic chair where he had been drinking tea next to the teddy
bear before my wife and daughter went to church.
Fucking dolls!
Forget what you think you know about dolls.
Never mind that bear, he’s ok in my book and he doesn’t say much; but dolls… They sleep during the day and wake up when everyone is asleep. Plastic
ones, porcelain (those are the worst!), cloth, wood or whatever, the whole lot of them come to life at night like the little vampires they really
are.
Forget the hacksaw!
They walk around houses and streets at night doing god knows what! I think they even have their own social system.
I plug in the skill-saw, open the throttle full bore and taunt the blade at Pal’s face as I grin over him.
“Now you’re gonna get it!” I cackle.
I swear it! Remember when you were a little kid and you used to talk to your toys? They’d answered you back, wouldn’t they? Don’t tell me that they
didn’t because you and I both know that they did!
I put the saw up to Pal’s neck and he starts to scream as the blade rips through his chin and bright red, blood mingled, pink plastic sawdust sprays
the room and I grin as Pal’s head falls off the bloody pink stump of his neck onto the floor. I give his head a strong kick for good measure and watch
it streak across the playroom and bounce off the wall.
“Take that, pal!” I laugh, and downstairs I go to grab a cold one after a hard day’s work. I slump in my chair and click on the tube to watch a NASCAR
re-run race from last week that I missed, but quickly changed it to “In Search Of…” hosted by “Spock” from Star Trek when a “Zoloft” commercial comes
on.
I must have drifted off to sleep from the boredom.
It was dark outside when I awoke and saw the car keys on the table and could hear my wife snoring in bed. I check my watch.
It was 12:02 a.m.
I crept up the stairs quietly pushed on the half open door of my daughter’s room.
My daughter was sleeping quietly and there clutched in her tiny arms was none other then Pal. He slowly turned his head, grinned at me with a mouth
full of sharp teeth and gave me a short, knowing wave with his tiny arm.
I let out a deep sigh, felt a knot grow in my stomach and slowly closed the door.
Tonight I won’t sleep, and maybe tomorrow I’ll have to try the garbage disposal.
End.
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udgang99
Restless Damned
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Location: Hjørring - Denmark
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| posted on 2-13-2008 at 17:58 |
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Cool - I love it. I would put the sucker in wet cement, and let it sleep with the fishes ... lets see him get out of that one!
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Kragon
Wandering Fiend
Posts: 54
Registered: 12-25-2007
Location: Fortress of Solitude
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| posted on 2-13-2008 at 20:41 |
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Yeah, there were a long list of ways I could of killed the thing but I wanted to tone it down. It would of been way too repetitive for this short
story. But i like it. I go back and reread it and it still gives me the creeps...I hate dolls. *shudders*
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darkicon
Administrator
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Mood: I wasn't born with enough middle fingers.
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| posted on 2-13-2008 at 20:46 |
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Excellent story.
I am not a Character.
I am Real.
And I know where you Dream. |
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Kragon
Wandering Fiend
Posts: 54
Registered: 12-25-2007
Location: Fortress of Solitude
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| posted on 2-13-2008 at 21:10 |
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Thank You!
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eduardo
Howling Freak
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Registered: 8-16-2002
Location: São Mateus - ES - Brasil
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Mood: Calmer
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| posted on 2-16-2008 at 12:19 |
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Very good history.
I would add religious symbols to the exterior of the wet cement to be sure, including Salomon´s seal.
This could become something like "The Black Cat" from Poe, but with a doll.
"An egg is a world, to be born you must break a world."
Herman Hesse in the Wolf from the Hills
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Caber
Restless Damned
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Registered: 4-23-2008
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| posted on 4-23-2008 at 12:27 |
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I love stories about killer dolls.
Way back when I was knee high to a grasshopper, my grandmother used to own a house in the country. In the guest bedroom where I would sleep, she had
this really old porcelain doll perched on a rocking chair in a shadowy corner of the room. I refused to sleep until that hideous doll was locked away
in a closet. I was convinced it was alive and was just waiting for the opportunity to kill me. Damn that thing still gives me nightmares all these
years later.
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Kragon
Wandering Fiend
Posts: 54
Registered: 12-25-2007
Location: Fortress of Solitude
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| posted on 4-23-2008 at 18:38 |
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Well, that's why I wrote this story, I hate dolls. Glass, wood, porcelain. I hate them all, they just creep the hell out of me. My wife has a whole
collection of them, they line the walls of our spare bedroom. Needless to say I don't go in there too often. lol.
But yeah, I do like horror movies about them. They are just plain out creepy and make for good horror stories. But just keep them the hell away from
me. lol
"Evil is not one large entity, but a collection of countless, small depravities brought up from the muck by petty men." - Richard Rahl,
Sword of Truth.
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Linne
Lost Soul
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Registered: 12-22-2009
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| posted on 12-22-2009 at 03:55 |
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Love the discussion..This is great..Very good History..Cheers
Rachat de credit surendettement
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