The Haunted Traveler December 2017 Edition

102
The black-eyed doll approached the two Girl-dolls. From beneath the folds of her
skirt, she produced a silver dagger, the hilt of which was carved white bone. Before
Annie could ask why, or how, the doll plunged the dagger through the Girl-dolls’ hearts,
impaling them like shrimp on a skewer.
The black-eyed doll removed the dagger as quickly as she’d inserted it. She began to
amass the girl dolls’ innards as if their stuffing—which appeared smoke-like to Annie—
and the black-eyed doll’s fabric hands were magnets of opposing polarities.
“So,” said Belinda, watching the exchange, her voice calm. “If something has come
for the Girl-dolls while there is no mother or father or babysitter to protect them, to
collect their souls and suck them down like cotton candy, well, what do you think about
that, Abbie?”
“That would be awful!” Abbie cried, clutching her own heart. Annie saw that her
sister’s face had gone very white. “Make it stop! Make it stop!”
“Stop!” Annie echoed. She was shaking with fear, but anger ricocheted off her
internal organs too, as if in a ghastly game of pinball.
“I can’t,” Belinda said, feigning surprise. “But...someone can.” Belinda lifted the
Mother- and Father-doll and turned them toward the harvest.
“Do you think that if the Mother-and Father-dolls knew what was happening, they’d
put an end to it?”
“Yes!” Abigail screamed. She was frantic now, and paler still, and Annie worried
Abigail was on the verge of passing out. It looked as if all the blood had been drained
from her sister’s tiny form, as if she’d been visited by a vampire who’d left nothing for
later.
Annie put her hand to her own forehead. Her skin felt unnaturally cold and dry.
“Please,” Annie said, helpless.
Belinda had eyes only for Abigail. “Do you think if the Mother-and Father-dolls had
a choice, they’d take the place of their Daughter-dolls?”
“Yes,” Abigail whispered.
“Then say it,” Belinda said. “Say that the parents should take the place of their
children.”
“No, Abbie,” Annie pleaded. Tears streamed down her face.
Abbie made as if to turn for her sister, but her eyes remained glued to the dolls.
“The parents should take the place of the children,” Abbie said, her voice quiet, but
clear. “It’s the parents’ job to make it stop.” She faltered, then, “Make it stop, Mommy.
Make it stop.”
Belinda flicked her wrist. The smoke was sucked back into the Girl-dolls’ chests as
swiftly as if by force of vacuum. The dolls fell, but were whole. The black-eyed doll and
her dagger disappeared into Belinda’s pocket.
The worry dolls lay motionless on the table, as innocent as any of the dozens of dolls
in Annie’s bedroom closet.