Don't Go to the Doll Shop

Don't Go to the Doll Shop

A Story by Lazor

Sit down and let me share with you a tragic tale that happened over thirty years ago. 

                Before we start, let me inquire that demons do exist. Even though they are not what you may think of with the horns or deep voices, they are out there and ready kill. These demons look normal; they could be your best friend or your worst enemy however they are all the same inside their psychopathic minds.

                It all started with a young girl, Hannah Reloax. She wasn’t the most liked girl and even though no one knew why that was, her classmates disliked her anyways. Hannah was quiet, shy, reserved; most children her age found that strange and thought that she was a social outcast. No one wanted to be seen with her, that’s why when she didn’t show up for school for days, weeks, months, nobody cared. Her parents would go to the school every Friday at 2:30 just before R.J. High School let out. They would ask anyone and everyone if they had seen or heard from her but they would walk on by worrying about their little problems. The parents would go home and cry.

                A year went by and still not a word from Hannah.

                Still, no one cared; actually they seemed to have forgotten about the girl. Her parents had stopped coming to the school. They were imprisoned at their little home, swinging back and forth on the noose that was wrapped around their necks. Mr. and Mrs. Reloax had given up all hope, they had stopped eating and eventually they became tired with their torment of waiting for their daughter.

                However, this is not where the story ends. It gets far worse.

                On the other side of town, in a small doll shop that was painted red with gold trimmings, lived an older woman. She was stout and fair haired; often she was seen humming about her shop. Beautiful dolls lined the shelves of all colors, races, heights, shaped, and genders. Many were put into fantasy type clothing while the others were put into Victorian style dresses and suits. These dolls were very lovely and had calm faces with bright wide eyes. Their complexion was flawless, at least that’s what I thought when I first saw them. Now, when I face them they look horrid and awful, disgusting. Only because of what happened after I walked into Ms. Rellik’s Doll Shop.

                It was a Tuesday; many of the girls at my school were going shopping or heading out with their boyfriends. I was always left alone so I would often wander around to clear my head.

                I had my head down while I walked and how I wished I would have kept my head to the sky.

                I saw something in my line of vision, something that looked like a doll arm, so I picked it up. I thought, ‘Where would a doll arm come from?’ I looked to my left and then my right which is when I saw the beautiful, nauseating, red and gold shop. I entered the small, wooden door that looked so worn out compared to the rest of the place. A bell chimed as the door opened and there stood a plump woman. She was short and round, her smile was sweet while her eyes were a bright hazel that was surrounded by square glasses. She looked sweet. However this is where my theory of demons comes in because what lies behind that overly sweet-like-cupcakes mask is the face of evil.

                When she turned toward me she smiled. “Well, hello there. What can I do for you, miss?”

                “Ah, um, yes. I found this, um, doll arm outside your shop. I was wondering if this was yours.”

                The old woman’s steps echoed as she walked over to inspect the arm that was laid out in my hand. Her dainty hand lightly grabbed the arm and after turning it over and over again she claimed it was hers.

                “Thank you, dear. And, because you helped me out, would you like to look around my shop for a bit?”

                I should have said no. I should have turned away and went back to my house, but that wouldn’t make for a tragic tale, now would it? I stayed.

                The woman, Ms. Rellik, showed me around. She showed me all the dolls from her least favorites to her favorites. I had a funny feeling in my stomach that grew with each doll she had pulled off those walls. The ones she had at first looked like normal dolls however as she continued they became taller and more human like. I remember they smelt like perfume and old cafeteria food but I didn’t want to be rude.

                This went on for a few hours until things started to get spine-chilling.

                “This one is my most favorite though. I keep him in a special box so that way he won’t get dirty; you are one of the few people I have shown him to.” She lifted up the box cover. There lay a boy, about the age of seven or so. He looked like he was in pain while also his glazed green eyes were sad. He had a fair complexion except for a long dark scar that ran the length of his face. His hands were at his side and dried blood was coming from his neck, legs, and head. I gasped but Ms. Rellik only turned and smiled at me.

                “You have such a pretty face, my dear.” She grabbed my hand firmly, I screamed but she hit me on the head and I passed out.

                When I awoke again, I was tied down to a table. I tried to look around but no matter how hard I tried, I could not move my head. I struggled against my restraints; in my head, I knew there was no escape for me. A door clicked open and closed, footsteps sauntered toward my location.

                “Now, I shall make you part of my collection. I can’t let a pretty face like yours go; it would be such a waist. I noticed by your uniform that you go to R.J. High School, such a protégés school. You shall be a part of my special collection. Don’t worry though; your friends won’t miss you for too long. In a year’s time, I shall take you back to where you came from.”

                I laid there for what seemed like days, however it could have just been a few hours. The pain I felt was awful. I could feel the blood pouring out of me, my organs being rearranged and removed. The sewing needle that pierced through my skin that was being sewn up after having what looked like cotton and wood replace my bones and muscle. I laid there…screaming.

                After awhile, my body went limp. I’m guessing it was from the extreme pain or massive blood loss. When she was done sewing up the last two openings, she laughed and put a protective casing over my glazed eyes.

                “All set. Now to wash and dry your body. Then off to the fitting room to get your outfit.” She set me down in the corner of the room and walked off. She came back with what looked like a large tin bowl, it was full of water. It was neither hot nor cold but then again I couldn’t feel it. Ms. Rellik was gentle while bathing my bloodied body.

                She fitted me for Victorian and fantasy clothing for a few hours before she took my uniform and put it on me.

                “I think this suits your face more than the outfits I have.”

                I sat in a box for days, months even until Ms. Rellik opened the box. The light coming from the window was bright and welcoming but I could only focus on what was in front of me. She lifted me up and carried me down many streets until we walked up to a building that has long been forgotten. It was big and unwelcoming to me but she kept walking to the front of the building. She sat me down and walked away, waving behind her.

                The bell of the school rang, releasing the kids from their classrooms. Many of them ran down the steps, ignoring me like they usually would but the only difference was that I was dead. Some of the students looked over to me but kept walking. Someone tripped over me, I fell and there was a loud crack. The students that heard it stopped running and looked over to the cracked doll; they walked over to me.

                “Hey, wasn’t this the girl that went missing?” One of them said as they formed a circle around me.

                “No, it couldn’t be her. She went missing and she wasn’t a doll last time I checked.”

                “Yeah, but still…It looks a lot like her.”

                One of the teens, picked up my damaged face and gasped. My mouth moved slightly, “Don’t. Go. To. The. Doll. Shop.” I whispered to them. They gasped but I smiled at them. They will never understand what happened. They will forget about it all in time.

                These teens, my former classmates, buried me in the back of the school thinking if they didn’t mention it then I wouldn’t come back.

I’m still here, at R.J. High School and every now and again I see people like me. Sometimes they come back a year later, whether in Victorian, fantasy, or school uniforms, as a doll.

Don’t. Go. To. The. Doll. Shop.

© 2013 Lazor


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Reviews

This was terrific. Very good!

Posted 5 Years Ago



Seriously freaky, so I really enjoyed it.
I never liked dolls, always thought they were watching me.
NOW I KNOW WHY!!!
Lol.
Awsome read.

Tammy.


Posted 7 Years Ago



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Added on April 1, 2013
Last Updated on April 1, 2013
Tags: Doll, Shop, Don't, Go, Murder, Psychopath, Demon, Horror, Crazy, Ghost, Ignored

Author

Lazor
Lazor

Atlantica, MA



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