The Doll Collector

The room was dark, cold and dank. The long shelves ran, at elbow height on both sides, right from the door to the end of the long room; at least thirty five feet distant. There was no sound in the room, except the occasional shuffle and uncomfortable noise of small movements. Nothing could be seen, there was absolutely no light, so if one were to stand in the aisle in between the two lines of shelves on either side, one would have to grope at the wood in order to find the way out; to the door at the end of the room.

Normally, there was no way of telling if it was night or day, summer or winter. There were no windows in the room and the stifling air didn’t let any clues slip as to what was going on in the outside world. Only the heavy footsteps to the door at the end would bring any hint as to the exterior. They could be heard now, the heavy thud. thud. thud. marking out the trademark army boots of the wearer. A little more shuffling was heard from within the room as the jangle of keys penetrated the stuffy silence, followed by the sliding of several bolts.

The door opened and the dull light of the corridor leading shone into the normally dark room. There was synchronised movement from the occupants, involving a turn of the neck, and no movement from the other part of the body. In that second, a hundred pairs of unblinking eyes fixed on the figure who had opened the door; an overweight, balding man, probably in his middle fifties. He cracked a grin as he stood there looking in, taking a moment to observe all the occupants, before stepping inside.

“Who shall I take today?” he wheezed happily as he made his way into the room. As he passed those upon the shelves, their heads turned upon stiff necks to watch him walk further up the middle aisle. He couldn’t help but give a little chuckle as he stood surveying his collection.

“I need two pretty ones,” he said, “I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need pretty ones today”

There was no sound as he continued his survey of the room. As his eyes lit upon the two he wanted, his leer grew a little bigger and the army boots thudded as he moved to where the gold numbers on the shelves read 75. and 76. The numbers were normally invisible, but due to the dull light that had flooded the room, they could now be read by the man, even though he had to squint. Number 74. was empty; he had broken last week.

“Carmen, I think” he said, “And Lolita”

With that he reached onto the shelves and pulled the two occupants forward; their unblinking eyes fixed on his face. He scooped Carmen onto his right arm and Lolita onto his left. As one they jerkily put an arm each about his neck, so as not to fall. A fall from this height would cause them to break, and they had seen what he did with broken numbers in his collection; the basket of firewood was all-too present in their sleepless thoughts.

Carmen had been in his collection for nearly ten years now, and was a jewel of his. A beautiful one, with porcelain skin, the blondest of hair and the greenest of eyes. Eyes that never blinked as she stared out at the world. Carmen’s left arm was around his neck and joint-by-joint she moved her fingers so that they were curled into the collar of his shirt, just for extra grip. The collector smiled as he felt her grip; she was a smart one, was Carmen. She knew how to survive; had learnt fast when she had first been brought into his assembly.

Then they were out in the evening air, leaving the building, and Carmen moved her neck back, each vertebrae at a time, so she could look at the stars. She would have cried if she could but tears had long been a thing alien to her, the emotion was still there; but she had no way to express it. With no liquid inside of her; how was she supposed to cry?

There was dull light emanating from the trees to their right, and as they moved closer, it got brighter. Each step brought them closer to their purpose, the horrific reason that they existed at all. The fairground came into view as they rounded one last corner in the path, the hinges of the big wheel creaking as it moved in its monotonous circle. But that wasn’t where they were headed; they turned to the left to where the stand was. It looked like an old gypsy caravan, painted in traditional colours of dark greens and faded yellows. Carmen moved her head back to stare forwards at it, pushing as much hate into her glare as she could muster; this was the only defiance she could ever show and it repaired a little bit of her soul each night she was able to do it.

The side of the old caravan proclaimed THE DOLL COLLECTOR in old English writing, and above that was a hatch which was down at the moment; to entice customers in when the fairground opened for the evening. The collector placed Carmen and Lolita down on the wooden hatch, both of them flopped forward, their spines unprepared for the sudden need to hold themselves up. Yet, as the collector moved about; putting out buttons, scraps of cloth for dresses, miniature furniture for doll’s houses, and other such clutter; the two began to sit up, each vertebrae clicking into place with an almost silent clunk. Then he turned back to them; stood them up and locked their knees into place, something which would’ve made Carmen squeak in pain, if she could’ve done. The fact that her ruby red lips were sewn together prevented any such sound from escaping them.

Wires were attached to the back of her white dress; two at the hips, two at the ribs, one at the white collar, then two more to each of her long white socks and shoes, two more into her white gloves. If she had wanted to look up she would’ve seen the wooden frame that the strings were attached to. She didn’t need to, she knew it was there, and she became even more aware of when he jerked on two of the strings making her hand jerk up so it sat on her hip and her legs splay so she was sitting in the splits. It didn’t hurt; there was really no feeling in doing this anymore.

The collector moved away to do the same to Lolita, leaving Carmen a moment’s respite to look dispassionately out over the fairground where people were beginning to show their faces. Other stall vendors shouted out to the punters, wanting to gain their attention and have them buy their wares. The collector didn’t need to shout and holler though, he knew that his dolls would draw attention without any help from him. They were so real. So lifelike. Their skin didn’t look like wood at all, and if it weren’t for the fact they never blinked, breathed or spoke, they could have been real. They mesmerised people without the collector even having to try.

“Now, you know what to do; dance” Carmen heard the whisper of the collector’s voice in her ear. If she could have shuddered she would have done, but again; that was another emotion that was felt but unable to be expressed. She couldn’t move her legs due to the position he had put in her in, but she moved her arms in the familiar jerky dance of a ballet dancer; moving her arms above her head and back again. People thought it was magically how the dolls almost seemed to move of their own accord. The doll collector told them that they were mechanised, so he didn’t have to be the puppeteer at all times.

Carmen couldn’t decide what was worse; sitting out here on the hatch, dancing, or being stuck in the pitch black room. Here she had to watch the doll collector in action, whereas in the room she could sink into a familiar oblivion; her mind learning the true meaning of nothingness. People came to the stall, commented on her and Lolita, sometimes they bought things, sometimes they simply stood, mesmerised, at the sight of such beautiful, lifelike dolls, moving in their repetitive dance.

There was a point when she would have liked to have looked away, she had seen it many times before, but her neck was forced forward by the presence of the wires. A little girl of about ten was making her way over to the stall, she was alone, clearly having ditched her parent or guardian somewhere else.

“Those are pretty dollies” she said looking up from the ground to where Carmen and Lolita were continuing the enticing dance. She had auburn hair that fell almost to her waist, creamy skin and bright blue eyes.

“Thank you sweeting” said the collector looking over the hatch at the girl, who was small for her age. Carmen’s eyes, the only part of her which could portray any form of emotion or spirit, widened. She couldn’t move her head but she tried to catch the girls eye, hoping she would see the scream in them, get frightened and run away, fast enough to find her parents again, and forget this whole experience.

“Where did you get them?” asked the little girl.

“Why, I collect them” said the man, “I see those that I want to add to my collection, usually their not up to the standards that I need, so I modify them, and then they join my assembly”

The wire in Carmen’s lips was testament to that modification, among other things.

“Do you want to see the rest of my collection?” he asked.

The girl looked hesitant for a moment, and Carmen prayed deep down in her soul that the lesson all parents teach their children about not trusting strangers, had sunk in with this girl. But then, the girl’s face brightened, showing off a perfect smile.

“Alright” she said brightly, clearly not seeing the harm in viewing the rest of the dollies. Carmen was screaming inside, except nobody could hear her. Her rage and sadness was a crashing turmoil within as the collector moved down the steps of the caravan and to the girl.

“It’s just this way” he said holding out his hand. The little girl took it trustingly, and together they moved back in the direction that the collector had brought Carmen and Lolita earlier that evening. Carmen watched them out of the corner of her eye, until she could see them no more; she thought the scream inside of her would cause her to explode if it wasn’t released in some way. But then again, she didn’t have a beating heart, so there was no way she could die of the experience.

**

Two days later, a new doll with auburn hair and bright blue eyes, sat on the shelf in the room, the number 74. underneath her pale, dangling legs.

Undeniably lifelike and yet entirely frozen.