IV: Night of the Living Dolls

IV: Night of the Living Dolls

A young mother held her newborn baby at home for the very first time. The tiny infant wrapped up tight in a pink fuzzy blanket cooed away at her mother. The mother smiled, stroking her soft cheeks. The baby smiled back, clasping her little fingers around her mother's thumb. Rocking in a old wooden chair, that her mother had given her, she sighed pleasantly.

The baby's eyes began to flutter, her hands dropped back down into the blanket. Smile fading as she drifted off into sleep. The mother hugged the baby, carried her upstairs and placed her down in her white crib. Hands resting on the railing she stared down at her offspring, what a beautiful sight. Finally, she ripped herself from the railing and closed the door to the nursery behind her.

Only a few things left to do before her home was ready for baby. The mother had been collecting porcelain dolls since she was a small child herself. It was time to sell them off, use the money to better the baby's life somehow. The dolls were now stacked inside boxes, sitting in the living room. Tomorrow a man was coming to look at her collection, of over a hundred dolls. She wanted to move them into the garage for the night though, as she wanted her home as spacious as possible. One by one she moved each box to the garage. Stacked them on top of each other. Ten boxes in total, and she had placed the last one on top of the rest.

(..)

Lucille pulled her bathrobe tighter around her shoulders. She poked the embers in the fire. There was a chill in the air, she could feel it even through the thick fabric of her bathrobe. Lucille decided to make her way up to her bedroom, of course checking on the new baby on the way. The baby lay still, did not make a sound except for the air coming in and out of her mouth.

Lucille went to her bed, took a big swig of water from the glass on her nightstand. Checking that the baby video feed was working one last time, she pulled the covers over her body. The new mother stared at the ceiling above her, there was not a single sound in the house. The baby was such a pleasant baby, had not cried once since Lucille laid her down. Almost strange that the baby had not waken at any point. She thought about this as her vision blurred ever so and a deep yawn escaped her mouth. She laid back in the queen size bed, turned over on her side to watch the baby video feed.

A few blinks in and Lucille was fast asleep to.

The next morning: Lucille’s eyes shot open in a panic. She had not heard the baby all night not a single sound. When she turned to look at the video feed it was off. Throwing the heavy covers off and jumping into her slippers, she hurried down the hall to the baby’s nursery. With a shaking hand she reached for the gold door knob, turning it slowly, not wanting to disturb the baby. When the door swung wide enough to display the whole scene.

Lucille screamed; she reached out a hand to steady herself –and screamed again as tears burned in her eyes. The crib was covered in bright red blood. The walls, ceiling, pink carpet, and teddy bears matched the crib. A single limp twisted hand hung through the bars of the crib.

Lucille slid a foot forward to peer into the bedding, inside she found the mangled body of her newborn child. That had been alive and well yesterday, with nothing but a porcelain doll and a red soaked blanket wrapped around her.

The baby’s face was a mess-and were those the glass eyes from the doll in place of the baby’s? Lucille shrieked again in horror, falling to the floor, slumping against the crib. Falling onto a pile of some of the dolls she had put away last night. Blood dripped from their clothes, creating a pool on the floor. Lucille put her hands to her face disbelieving the sight before her eyes. Her left hand gripped one of the crib’s bars, staining it in red.

The doorbell rang- the man who said he was coming for the dolls.

This did not stop Lucille from clutching the side of the crib and screaming as loud as she could. As soon as the man heard the distress from outside the door, he tried the knob and bolted in, heading straight for the source of the distress.

The man halted in the door frame of the nursery taking in the sight before him. Blood everywhere, the screaming woman.

Crib…

He leaned further into the room but once he caught sight of the inside of the crib he revolted, and vomited on the hall floor.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” The man yelled as he gasped for air and looked away from the room. Lucille screamed again; the man dialed 9-1-1.

(...)

Eight and a half-months later the judge ruled Lucille Wending guilty of infanticide. Because of the nature of the crime as Lucille had sought out in-vitro for the express purpose of giving birth to, and killing a infant. She would serve 2 years in a psychiatric ward to recover, and then serve another 48 years in a penitentiary.

Lucille still claimed her innocence for 17 years. Until she was found with her throat slit in her jail cell. Inside her hand she gripped a piece of kiln-fired clay.

THE END