The Bloggess

I get a lot of weird mail at Nowhere Bookshop so the team always opens it when it arrives because you never know if something is going to spoil, expire or explode before I come in and with this most recent box they got as far as uncovering possibly human hair before screaming lightly, resealing the box and telling me come get what they hoped was a doll as soon as possible before the curse escaped the box.

I opened the box and pulled out the doll and she made a creaky, sighing noise that made everyone shudder lightly. The team was divided between “She should live at the bar and hand out horror books” and “Take her away immediately before she eats our soft tissue.” Then I was like, “Oh, look…she has teeth” and they pushed me out the door.

I put the box in the back but buckled the doll into the passenger seat because I’ve seen enough movies to know the murderer is always lurking in the backseat, and it was sort of nice to have the company except that she made a disconcerting noise every time I braked too hard and when I stopped at the drive-thru the cashier was like, “Oh, what a sweet…um…oh” and then she left quickly, probably because her shift ended and not because the dolls eyes had rolled back in her head with a strange clicking noise.

When I got home my car’s dash blinked with a warning light telling me to “CHECK THE BACKSEAT” and I was like, “Yeah, nice try but I put the haunted doll in the front seat because I’m not an idiot.” But turns out I am an idiot because, reader, THE BOX WAS NOT EMPTY.

It was filled with all sorts of surprises, including this baby doll who stared at me in exactly the same way I was staring at her.

It was at this point that I realized that both dolls were way denser than they should be and I suspected it was because they were all filled up with children’s souls but turns out that both of them have antique voice boxes in their bellies. “THEY CAN TALK” I whispered to Victor who backed out of the room just as quickly as he had entered while making the sign of the cross. I couldn’t get them to talk because I guess they want to take their terrible secrets to the grave or are waiting until nighttime to start screaming. I also pulled bits of broken glass from the box that was presumably once a porcelain creamer but which I can only assume the dolls were using as make-shift weapons. Also included was a doll made of wooden balls, and an old candle which Victor suggested (from the other room) using to set the whole box on fire, which seemed a little over-the-top.

At the bottom of the box was a lovely letter from a woman who assured me she was not some kind of unabomber (exactly what a unabomber would say) and that these were the dolls of her great-grandmother who was born in 1894 and that “The dolls are absolutely not creepy and there’s NO EVIDENCE WHATSOEVER that they’re plotting anything nefarious” (exactly what a unabomber possessed by a bunch of haunted dolls would say).

But then I looked at them with kinder eyes and did a little makeover on the biggest doll (who is marked with an “M” – probably for massacre) and felt she looked much nicer.

Victor disagreed and insisted that he could not sleep until they were all gone. So now (with the permission of my fantastic friend who is absolutely not a unabomber) I need to find a good home for these lovelies. Preferably someone with connections to a doll hospital, or an old priest with a fountain of holy water.

In lieu of comments please feel free to submit bids or otherwise convince me that you would make a good mother to these antique wayward dolls. I would put them on ebay but (true story) they have a rule against selling haunted stuff so these dolls have been banned. In the event anyone is willing to risk their eternal soul, all profits will go to donating (less likely to come alive at night) toys to children this holiday season.

Happy early Christmas, y’all.