Saturday 21 July 2007

Short Story - 'Strange Magic' House Of Dolls







STRANGE MAGIC
House of Dolls

Ever since the age of two, my daughter Louise always had a bedroom full of cuddly toys and dolls and throughout the years, she had never really grown out of some kind of collection. I've dusted and vacuumed around Pet monsters, my little ponies; Barbies' and all her pink accessories, every imaginable cute stuffed toy and every Christmas or birthday that come along, most presents consisted of a new toy for Louise to cuddle. Unfortunately, there were just too many toys in the end and as Louise got older, we washed and parted with them and gave most of them to the local charity shop.

Even when Louise left home, her passion for dolls or cuddly toys was still apparent. She had already owned a number Furbies who chattered away to one another often scaring me a little when I was left alone with them! Their heads used to turn in my direction as I walked passed them and their dark midnight black piercing eyes seemed to bore into my very soul. I didn't understand how they worked, but reasoned that they must have had some special language of their own or it seemed that way. But since the day she started collecting Blythe dolls there seemed to be many unexplainable occurrences. Nobody knew the origin of these dolls, not even Louise, as most were purchased over the Internet as a private sale and the packages did not contain any forward addresses, they were delivered in dark boxes with large brightly ink addressed and inscribed in old English writing to the buyer. Louise even started to look like a Blythe doll, dyeing her long hair blond, her disconnected fringe and dark heavy make up emphasising her big green saucer eyes. I even thought a times, she wore the same beautiful sultry expression as those dolls.

Louise found a lovely flat in North London and settled down quickly, although I would argue that it was becoming a shrine to her collection of these unusual dolls and after a short time after taking the dolls out of their boxes, strange and unexplainable things begun to happen, subtle at first. With her rent overdue, Louise useless with money and desperate for cash, out of the blue, she received a rebate from an overpayment of council tax, only an overpayment was never made, but the council insisted that she did. It didn't matter how much she checked her bank statements, it made no difference. The council confirmed this error by letter. Nothing unusual you might think, but then really odd things happened, like she thought that she had run out of washing powder, but when she looked again, the box was just over a quarter full. When the fridge badly needed defrosting and she didn't have time to do it, when she got home from work one day, it had been defrosted and come home to find water from the ice over the floor. She found a £20.00 note underneath her DVD player when dusting - again, when she was short of cash and a tin of wholesome Minestrone soup appeared mysteriously in her cupboard when she thought she didn't have any food in her flat.

A few weeks later, without warning, or invitation, one of Louise's 'friends' - a bit of a drama queen, turned up on her doorstep carrying a bottle of red wine. Louise was clearly tired, but her friend was so happy to see her, Louise did her best to make her feel welcome. As Louise went into the kitchen to get a cork screw opener, her friend suddenly got up and decided to leave with no excuse. She just simply changed her mind and gave no valid reason! She remained a little cagey with Louise over a period of weeks and didn't make any further contact after this.

I often stayed overnight and heard those furbies chatting to one another; a nonsensical conversation with monotone voices and eerie laughter. I also heard some excited whispering and giggling near the witching hour and was never sure if it was a crowd walking home nearby or those dolls exchanging secret messages with each other.

One morning I swear those Blythe dolls had changed places with one another and I'm sure they swapped clothes, handbags, shoes and make up. I even thought one had a bit of a smile on her face after cleaning Louise's flat one day while she was at work.

In time, Louise met a new boyfriend, Michael and most people seemed to dislike him except, of course, Louise. her friends and I all had a gut feeling that he would make her unhappy, but she tried to make a go of the relationship, simply because she thought a lot of him. Michael's father was very strict and a control freak from what we could gather and his mother was frightened of him and left Michael's father in the end. This all seemed to rub off on Michael, who turned into a bit of an attention seeker, a bit like his father on the controlling side and manipulative towards Louise, but her easy going nature tolerated his behaviour. It was very difficult to stand by and grit my teeth and her friends and I felt so helpless.

Over the weeks I knew that Michael grew uneasy sleeping over at Louise's flat and kept having to keep looking over his shoulder, although even he could never understand why. Louise didn't understand why he felt this way, as she felt so safe and secure where she lived.

One evening, after a night out from her local pub, Louise and Michael got into an argument about some young man who Michael thought was supposedly talking to Louise and when they got home, Michael threatened to hit her and as she cowered into the corner of the living room, he picked up her favourite Blythe doll, knowing how much she loved her dolls, opened the front door and hurled it down the concrete stairs until she hit the hard cold floor below with a sickening thud. Louise, by now was quite frightened and threatened to call the police if he didn't leave. After more arguing, he finally left and kicked and jumped on the Blythe doll on his way out, as if she were to blame. Louise now clearly traumatised and crying so much, between her stifled sobs, called me to stay over. She was so frightened to go downstairs to pick up her doll in case she was too damaged.

During the time I was driving over, Michael had telephoned Louise to say that he had a slow puncture and would kill the person who caused this. He could do no more than to wait for the rescue service in the freezing cold dense fog as uncannily; the spare tyre in the boot was also flat. As I drove along the road on the way to North London, I expected to see Michael, but the visibility was very poor.

Still feeling very low a few weeks later, it wasn't long before Louise brushed herself down, perked up and went for a drink in the same pub that she and Michael went to on the night of the argument. With some help from her friends had a really nice evening and later that night, bumped into the same young man who Michael thought was talking to her. This time he did chat her up and ended up going out on a number dates..........

As for Michael, well nobody ever saw or heard from him ever again after that night. He is now officially a missing person.

The Blythe doll that was kicked and hurled down the stairs came to no harm at all, other than her dress getting ripped but she looked very pretty in the new Kimono Louise bought her.

Copyright Linda Lawrence
17th November 2005

1 comment:

Ray said...

I think this is the favourite story she wrote out of all of them because it contained some childhood memories of Gemma.

It's a good story with good flow. Think this could be elaborated on.