OPHELIA

    The doll was beautiful. This I must confess.  Kyra and Mika made her to star in one of their films, and I must admit.  I never look forward to watching them. They are extremely upsetting to me.  They are nightmare visions that never seem to resolve any kind of plot, if there is any in their films.  The boys are quite talented.

 

I met the twins at art school eons ago. They’ve always been a little odd, but Mika and Kyra never worried about popular vote when it came to them. They are both dark haired, ponytailed, odd angular faces. The only way to tell the boys apart was a mole on Mika’s left cheek.

 

Every time they complete a new short film, the boys invite me for a sneak preview. Judging by my cringing or how many times I look away, they are pleased with their efforts.

 

“Derek,” Mika said.

“Old friend,” Kyra shook my hand.

“We are so glad you could make it,” They both finished.

 

“Well, you know I wouldn’t miss one of your films,” I told them as I came in through the front door of their studio.

 

 

 

“Come now,” Mika grinned.

“We use you as a guinea pig,” Kyra laughed. They showed me to my usual chair by the window overlooking the city below.

“Am I the only one here? Where’s Saul, you guy’s producer?”

At that moment, Ophelia appeared.

Now let me go on record….I always thought the boys were gay. I didn’t even know they had an interest in women. Even if they were gay, it wouldn’t have changed our relationships.  Even in art school they didn’t show interest when the random girl showed interest…and that was not often. Everyone, even their parents, thought the boys were just a little creepy.

 

Ophelia was tall, leggy blond. She had large pouty, red lips. She seemed to wisp, not walk. That night

she wore a white dress…she smelled like raspberries.

Yes, I had a thing for her. Well, more than a thing. I fell hard for her. I wanted Ophelia bad.

“Hi,” She said. “I’m actually their new producer. Saul….we don’t exactly know what happened…..but, he’s no longer in the picture.”

I didn’t know what to say.  Saul had given the boys money since their last year at art school. Even helped they buy the studio they live and work in. And being so sudden, I was in shock. I rather enjoyed conversations with the old coot. He was a producer for the BBC. Then he became independent.

“What about Channel four?” I asked.

Simultaneously, they said, “What about Channel Four?”

I blinked, smiled. They looked at each other.

“We still have our commitments,” Kyra said.

 

 

 

 

 

“But,” Mika took Ophelia by the hand and brought her into the circle. “Ophelia has gotten us a three picture deal with Channel Four backing. Something Saul could never achieve.”

“Well, let’s get the film going,” I took a seat. “I have an early morning.”

 

The light went down. The film started.  It was their usual blend of fantastic animation, live action, wonderful eastern bloc composer, whom I’m not sure, wrote the music. The film, of course, was quite upsetting to me.

The female doll was blond, no facial expression, as a matter of fact, her face was blank. She was controlled by a hand moving her about like a marionette. She would rise from her bed, open the door of her bedroom, and walk into a white void. Suddenly find her back in bed. This would repeat several times. Later she noticed a hole in the wall of her bedroom. She went to it, looked inside. She saw a large rat making a meal of a man. The camera would move in and reveal the doll’s face a striking resemblance to Saul, their old producer. At the end the camera pulled away to show a faceless man stab the female doll repeatedly as she slept, in the same scene pencils danced around them.

 

I was not handling the film well. When the lights came up, I was in tears. I stood, rushed to the front door. “Thank you, boys,” I barely managed to call out as I ran out.

Out in the streets, I watched the traffic race by. A light drizzle dampened my face to cover my tears. I hailed a taxi and told the turban man to take me to my apartment on the west side. He must have thought I was mad. I wept the entire trip.

 

 

 

 

 

 

All night my sleep was undeniably rampant with horrible images. Bloodied hands opening me up and sowing me back up with needle and thread. I kept hearing voices. That strange violin riff danced through my head the entire distraught slumber.  Spiritual pencils sang their praises to the wrong Lord, intestine crucifixes.

I awoke with a pounding headache.

I received a phone call from Ophelia. I rolled out of bed to answer my phone that was under my clothes. I felt like I’d had a night out on the town. Truth better to tell I had not drunk at all in six months and I am reluctant recovered alcoholic. I had lost my business, a small one I had built for five years working in the commercial advertising industry. I even lost the wife of two years.  Very dire situations.

“Hello,” My voice cracked when I spoke into the phone.

“Derek,” Ophelia said. She sounded hurried.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Ophelia, of course. Who else could it be?”

“Maybe a client? A job for me? What do you want?”

“You.” She said, cleared her voice. “I must see you.”

“I really need to get out there, hit the pavement as they say, and find employment.” I told her.

“I need you,” Ophelia nearly burst into tears.

“For what?”

“Oh my God,” She said. “Do I really have to spell it for you?”

“Well….” I thought a second. “Yes,” I laughed. “You should.”

 

“This is pathetic! Fine. Come over at once! Sex! I want sex!” And she hung up.

 

 

 

 

I had no choice, you understand.

She needed me. The boys were not giving her all she wanted. Of course. I ran ten blocks.  I was almost there, dodging traffic as I crossed streets. I noticed a homeless man walking in circles behind a dumpster in front of a coffee shop.

“Saul!” I screamed. “Saul!” I avoided a collision with a dry cleaners van. The driver cursed me as he swerved, almost hitting a man walking his dog. An argument ensued.

“Saul!” I called out to him again.

He didn’t hear me, or was just ignoring me. I really couldn’t tell. So went over to him, grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Saul? Hey, it’s me. Derek.”

He just looked at me…or rather right through me. His eyes….there were nothing behind them. No life at all.  Two dark holes in his face.

I let go of him. He continued his journey, walking in circles. It was sad. I walked away from him, shaking my head. It was only two weeks ago I saw the man, all was well.

I walked past the driver and the man with the dog having a fist fight. As they were trading blows, the dog, a Rottweiler had bitten the owner on the leg and wouldn’t let go. This was very humorous. But I couldn’t stay to watch.

One more street corner and I would be at Mika and Kyra’s studio. I would have Ophelia to myself….at least this one time.

 

Ophelia met me at the door. She took hold of my tie and pulled me in. she slammed the door shut. We stared at each other for a half second before she pulled my face closer to hers for a passionate kiss. We broke for away for a few. She took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom she shared with the twins.

My head was swirling. She undressed me, laid me on the bed. I looked around, saw all the dolls the twins used in there movies. They were sitting on several shelves across the bedroom.  Some dolls missing certain limbs, some with parts that don’t match, some with blank faces, some with animal parts. Some with faces painted like clowns.  

I felt her lips softly move down from my chest towards my midsection, and her hands were wandering…searching.

I felt strange. I felt short of breath.

The dolls were moving. Laughing, waving, heads spinning around.  They slid down the shelves and began to crawl across the carpeted floor, hissing, laughing, and crying out. It was shear chaos.

I became short of breath. My vision was blurred.

I felt Ophelia straddle me.  She was riding me hard and I could feel myself slip away into the void. The dolls by now had joined us in the bed. A doll with rubber arms stretched out and had wrapped them around Ophelia’s breasts, caressing the n*****s.

I came. Then everything went black.

There were voices. Voices overlapping each other, and talking very fast.

I felt hands on my limp body. A knife split me open from chest to abdomen. Fingers were inside me, filling me with liquid. Suddenly, I was stiff.

“Oh, he is going to be beautiful,” I heard Ophelia say.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in a miniature bedroom decorated with a canopy bed and a vanity. I stood there, holding a bloody knife in my hands and a doll with a blank face lying on the bed in a pool of blood…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Joe Morris]

A very dark and creepy piece mark! You do well to make the reader feel uncomfortable and this re-emphasies the dark horror quality of the piece. All that is needed is a final proof read and then thats it, I have no more suggestions for improvement. Can't wait to read the rest of this tale, truly intriguing! :)

[mark slade]

thanks for the comments

[Raven Starhawk]

I can think of a million things to say but I think I can generally sum it up with one word: genius. The craft of this story feasts on some great fears. Some dolls are very old and very creepy indeed. And for the life of me I don't understand why they have that effect. I think the answer is our imaginations invent crazy things...and I am rambling so I better wrap this up. In short this was a definite great read.

[mark slade]

thanks for reading.