The Dolls

The Dolls ..

Mitch Bensel

He woke the same way he did everyday, in a pool of his own sweat. Time had mocked his existence with a curse from his ancestors. The house was cold on this morning, the day of the full moon and it caused him to shiver.  He sat up on the edge of his bed and said the same prayer he had said since he first moved into the house. It was vague and random with, help me not die tonight.

The full moon would shine its light and he tried to ready himself for the terror that always visited. He dressed quietly as the morning sun barely made its way through the windows. They were shuttered you see, to protect them.
He robotically walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth. His eyes always told the story to himself, no need for anyone else to know, they wouldn’t believe him.

The old house he inherited smelled of mold and was in disrepair. He didn’t care to fix any of it. He despised it. How can one despise a house? He laughed at his thought while he brushed his teeth. A slow laugh pushed against his left side, lightly. He stopped, looked at the door.
They loved scaring him, they loved taunting him with growls into his nightmares.

He finished getting dressed and walked past the door of hell. He called it that, it was just a door into the room where the dolls lived. Yes, they lived and owned his soul. How? You ask? He sat at the kitchen table. His eyes empty, his soul left long ago into a place away from him. If only he could escape. He shook suddenly realizing what his escape would be. It was the path of his life and he could not change it.

Time went by too quickly and the sun had set. The full moon shined through the window onto his motionless body. His coffee cold, his stare into nothingness fresh.

He walked slowly to the door, the one that held them. They existed in the bodies of dolls made by man. Oh, but they were not dolls.  The moon’s light pushed through almost orgasmically into the house, through the rooms and against the door.

He stood motionless while they walked past him. Their cold skin caught the light of the moon. They smiled then growled at him. “It is time.” They said in unison. Terror became his inhale as his blood ran cold then stilled. He leaned back, arched in mid air. They circled him.  His skin became a shine to match the moon’s light. Screams of agony caused only pleasure to the dolls of evil incarnate. He slowly, painfully, became one of them.

“I love this old house.” The newly married woman said with such happiness. They waited for her, whispers become screams when they hunger for your soul. She walked into the cold dolls room on a night of a full moon.