A cracked, wooden face surrounded by blonde curls gazed up at her from a bed of black velvet.
Cool…a doll!
Sarah shone the light over her newest find. It was a pretty thing, with golden hair and a pink satin dress, and much larger than most of the dolls she owned—about the size of a two-year-old child. It looks really old, she thought, reaching in to prop the toy up. She repositioned the flashlight and studied the wooden face. Cracked and flaking shellac marred the doll’s features, giving it an almost diseased look. The retractable eyelids appeared glued in a half-lidded state, adding to the toy’s sickly appearance. Twin lines ran from the corners of the Cupid’s bow mouth, curving to meet underneath the chin.
Maybe the mouth opens and closes, she thought, brushing a renegade curl from the doll’s face. Like those dummies the ventriloquist guys use. Sarah pressed a finger against the doll’s lower lip, but the lacquered teeth remained firmly clenched. She reached around to the back, feeling for some kind of lever or button that might operate the jaw.
The doll’s eyes clicked open.
Sarah jerked her hand away and giggled, silently chiding herself for being such a scaredy-cat. She shone the flashlight at the doll’s face, taking in its glassy, green eyes. “Cool,” Sarah said, leaning in for a closer look. The eyes were intricately detailed—from the golden flecks in its glass irises to the delicate lashes on the lids.
They almost look real…
“Sarah? Where are you, hon?”
Sarah flinched and craned her head over her shoulder. “Coming, Momma,” she said, scrambling to stand up. A chill washed over her as she considered what Momma would say when she learned of Sarah’s whereabouts. Technically, she was not allowed to play in the attic (not until Daddy could inspect it for spiders, rusty nails and anything else he felt little girls should not be exposed to), but Daddy wouldn’t be joining them until the end of the week, and Momma had made it clear Sarah was to stay out of the way while she unpacked…
“Sarah?”
Sarah sighed and cupped her hands around her mouth. “In a minute,” she yelled.
She stooped to retrieve her flashlight when a dull clack snapped in the darkness. Sarah whirled around and aimed the flashlight at the leather box, thinking the doll might have fallen to the floor; but there it sat, propped against the velvet interior just as she had left it. She eyed the toy, a combination of curiosity and unease tickling her mind.
Something’s different, she thought, taking a step towards the box.
Sarah shone the light over the wooden face and frowned. The doll’s mouth hung slack, the glazed teeth glinting white against the dark, rectangular opening. She took a step towards the box and froze, a definite chill creeping down her back.
The doll’s eyes flashed yellow.
“Sarah!”
Sarah jumped, nearly dropping the flashlight. She fumbled for a moment before steadying her hand to cast a beam of light onto the doll’s face. The eyes glittered green. A burst of nervous laughter exploded from her mouth. It’s just your imagination, stupid, she thought, tucking the flashlight into her back pocket.
Still chuckling, she lifted the doll from the box and made her way to the attic door.
Getting the toy down to the main level took a lot longer than Sarah thought it would. The doll’s large size and unbending limbs made navigating the stairs difficult. Sarah reached the landing between the second and first floors, hitched the doll to her hip, and cautiously made her way down the remaining flight of stairs.
“Sarah? Where is that child…”
Her momma’s diminutive figure appeared in the kitchen door just as Sarah rounded the balustrade, her foot tapping a short-tempered rhythm on the hardwood floor. Behind her, Sarah’s little sister Laurie squirmed in her highchair, chunky fingers gripping a two-handled sippy cup. The baby banged the cup against the tray a few times, then tossed it onto the floor.
“Where have you been, girl?” Momma said, a taut scowl darkening her normally cheerful face.
Sarah had seen that expression a lot since the move.
“Huntin’ treasure,” she said, turning the doll about and holding it up for inspection. “I found a doll. Cool, huh?”
Momma gave the proffered toy a cursory glance and turned to retrieve Laurie’s sippy cup from the floor. “Looks kind of like that old Suzie Sez doll I had as a kid,” she said, placing the cup on the child’s tray. “Only mine was made of plastic, not wood. Where’d you find it?”
“In the attic,” Sarah said, returning the doll to her hip.
Momma crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “What were you doing in the attic?”
Sarah shrugged and looked at the floor, her toe tracing an invisible pattern on the polished oak planks. “Staying out of the way?”
Momma closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with a thumb and forefinger. “Look, hon, I’m too tired to argue with you right now, so I’m gonna let it slide this time,”—she shot Sarah an I’m-not-messing-around look—“but you can’t go back up there until Daddy does his ‘safety inspection.’ You know how he is about stuff like that.”
Sarah nodded. “Okay.”
“Good. Now go put that doll in your room and wash up. I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches for dinner.”
Sarah’s stomach grumbled at the mention of food. “Can I have peanut butter and jelly?”
“Sure. Grape jelly okay?”
“Yeah.”
Sarah shifted the doll to the other hip and mounted the steps. She reached the landing at the top of the staircase and turned left, heading for her room. The doll’s wooden cheek rested against her shoulder, its glassy gaze seeming to bore into the side of her neck. Sarah’s scalp began to prickle, as if she really was being watched…
A sharp, stinging pain flared in her shoulder. Sarah grimaced and slapped at her arm, but the doll’s head seemed to be resting on the very spot that hurt most. She pushed at the toy, trying to move it away from the tender spot, and the pain intensified. Sarah twisted her head to the side and gasped.
The doll’s teeth were embedded in the sleeve of her shirt, pinching the skin of her shoulder between its gradually tightening jaws.
Sarah grabbed the doll’s hair and yanked, whimpering as the lacquered teeth scraped across her flesh. Her arm freed, she released the handful of hair and let the doll drop. It hit the floor with a clatter, a faint, yellow gleam shimmering in its eyes, and the mouth snapped shut with an audible click.
Sarah’s legs buckled. Leaning against the wall for support, she peeled back the sleeve of her shirt and prodded the abraded shoulder with the tips of her fingers. The skin hadn’t been broken, but she could see the indention of the doll’s teeth outlining the beginnings of what was sure to be a spectacular bruise come morning-time.
She turned her attention to the doll, eyeing it with a mixture of curiosity and dread. She nudged the doll’s arm with the tip of her sneaker and quickly drew her foot back, half expecting the wooden hand to reach out and grab her. The doll rocked slightly, its eyelids fluttering with the motion. With a shuddering sigh, Sarah picked the doll up and—keeping it at arm’s length—made her way to the bedroom at the end of the hall.