Papa should’ve listened to the man.
“These five are a set, Mister,” the antiquarian warned him. His tone as rigid as his posture.
But Papa would not be persuaded.
“I’m not shelling out half a C-note for five ancient dolls,” he argued. “Especially when only one of them looks decent. Don’t you agree, Nicky?”
I did. But only about that last part. I still hoped to get all five.
“But, Papa, the man says—”
“We’ll take the pretty one.” And that was that.
This was three days ago.
That night, before bed, I set Fresa, my new dolly, in my rocking chair, next to the window. When I awoke, one of the dolls we left behind was sitting beside Fresa. Puzzled, I figured Papa had gone back to the store later that evening and gotten it for me.
I ran outside and found him working on his Mustang, like I knew I would. I hugged him so hard I got grease on the tip of my nose.
“Hey, what’s this about?”
Papa played dumb often, so I giggled and went back inside to ready myself for the day.
When I returned from school I found both dollies on the chair, where I had left them, and I played with them all afternoon.
The following morning surprised me with yet another dolly sitting in my rocking chair. All six glass eyes were goggling at me.
I didn’t go looking for Papa that time. I didn’t have to.
“What’s this now?” He asked as he entered my room. My alarm hadn’t gone off.
“But… I thought you knew?”
“How would I? You better come up with some answers now, Nicole.”
Papa calling me by my full name was a regular first warning, though this time I could tell he was as confused as I was.
“But, Papa… Didn’t you get the second dolly for me? That’s why I gave you that big hug yesterday morning. And now this third one showed up too, so I thought you—”
“Well, I didn’t. And just so you know I’m taking all of them back later.”
But when I got back from school, the three dollies were still there.
“I went by the store, but it was closed. For good, it seems. Place was emptied out.”
“So, I can keep them?”
“You gotta tell me how they got here, Nicky.”
“I swear I don’t know, Papa! Honest!”
He studied me for a second, then looked away and shook his head.
“I know I didn’t raise no thief, so…” He stroked his chin. “You should go thank your lucky stars now.”
I thanked him instead and, pensively, took the dollies to my room. I wasn’t sure my lucky stars had anything to do with what had happened. Or what is happening, rather, because today there was a fourth doll neatly placed next to the others.
I was terrified.
Papa grabbed the dolls and we went back to the store and I looked through its display window, but found it empty, as he’d said.
“You can leave them anyway, if you want,” Papa said. “Maybe someone will take them.”
I thought hard about it. Like really, really hard.
“Can I keep Fresa and leave the other three?”
“Sure can.”
On our way home, we concluded that the fifth and final doll wouldn’t appear inside my room, since we had gotten rid of the three we hadn’t paid for. Even so, I didn’t want to sleep alone. Besides, there was a big storm brewing. The hard winds and lightning had declared it so.
“Want me to keep you company for a while? Just to make sure this madness is all done with.”
I agreed. A while was better than nothing.
Still, Fresa was consigned to the living room couch.
§
It felt like forever until night came. And even longer till I fell asleep.
I stirred throughout the night, relieved each time I saw Papa dozing in my rocking chair. Until the last time I awoke.
Panicking, I sat up.
“Papa?”
“I’m on my way, Nicky! I’ve seen it!”
Seen what?
He sounded far away.
A creaking sound made me notice that my window slowly opened from the outside. Someone was climbing in.
I tried yelling out for Papa, but couldn’t. I was petrified.
A sudden flash of lightning exposed a two-legged monster painstakingly entering my room. Its upper body was made of the dolls I’d discarded.
Pulling a blanket over my mouth, I started hyperventilating while the doll-monster advanced in complete silence toward the rocking chair.
I could hear myself crying inside my head but, apart from my rapid breathing, nothing was coming out.
Papa, where are you?
The monster’s back was to me. His posture seemed eerily familiar.
Hurry! Before it sees me!
I wanted to get completely under the covers, but couldn’t look away.
With great care, the monster sat one of the dolls on the chair, and I realized that its body wasn’t comprised of them. It carried them in its arms.
Papa, I know who the monster is!
An earsplitting bang exploded inside the room, making me jump.
A second blast muffled my ensuing shrieks.
“You alright, Nicky?”
I nodded to Papa, who stood at the foot of the bed, shotgun in hand. I searched the dark for what he’d shot at. There were bits and pieces of doll sprawled all over the floor.
I turned my nightstand lamp on.
“Lord! Look away, Nicky. I got him… Got him good.”
There, among his smashed prized dolls, lay the antiquarian, stiff as a board.
“But, Papa… How come there’s no blood?”
Papa stared, grunted, and pushed the antiquarian’s shirt tatters aside with the muzzle of his shotgun.
Alarmed, Papa gasped and rushed to the window.
“What kind of sick joke is this?”
I crept out of bed for a closer look, but tumbled back in horror as I caught a glimpse of the antiquarian’s glass eyes, and of his porcelain torso shattered to smithereens.
Arnoldo Millán Zubia is a Mexican writer of dark fiction. He’s had a couple of his stories published in Mexican Ezines and in the Flame Tree Press anthology: First Peoples, Shared Stories. This is his second English-language sale.
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