The Doll Maker - Renz In The Woods

30 Days of Fright Writing Challenge: Day 4 - The Puppet Master

THE DOLL MAKER

The door buzzer jarred him awake. He groaned and rolled over. Too bright! He covered his face with a pillow, fighting against the pull of daylight. As much as he loved this apartment, having the first button meant every delivery driver just pushed his to signal a delivery. Nobody else bothers…instead they send a text.

He sat up and reflexively reached for a cigarette. He took a long drag, coughed a bit, and exhaled while staring at the lit end mesmerized. Try as he might to quit, these things controlled him. He was continually promising himself to stop at the end of the pack, but he always bought another almost without thinking. He was tempted to stub it out, but finished it anyway.

It was already late morning. His insomnia kept him up late again. He started the coffee, threw on some shorts and went to see if he was able to get in with his delivery or had to leave it outside. A small parcel was there on the stoop in front of the entryway door. He was surprised that it was addressed to him. He hadn’t been expecting anything. He figured it was yet another delivery for that Olivya woman upstairs. Nearly every day there were shipments for her like she lived for Amazon. He shook the box but it felt solid, checked his mailbox…empty…who gets snail mail anymore?…and went back for some much needed caffeine.

He set the box on the table and went back to bed with his coffee to scroll through his phone, another annoying habit. He switched over to his iPad so he could check Substack, played the day’s offering of Mahjong, started the Backgammon challenge, and for good measure played a game of Freecell and then an attempt at Spider Solitaire before giving up. Some days he would lie there trying to win over and over and over again, not wanting or unable to quit until he achieved a win.

He thought about the day ahead. It was getting warmer with Summer right around the corner. He had used up the milk with his coffee and probably should walk over to the grocery. He debated about going if the weather was too hot or if it was going to rain, but he didn’t like to use powdered creamer…it really had to be milk. He checked the weather app on his iPad and it wasn’t quite as warm as he had expected and no rain in the forecast. The weather would not keep him home after all.

Out in the courtyard he paused to light another cigarette. He looked up out of habit at the third floor unit in the back corner. Sure enough she was there in her window like the master surveying her domain. He waved like he always did, but as expected he received no response. He felt like she was watching him but it was hard to be sure through her gauzy curtains. He turned back at the sidewalk but she was no longer in the window. So strange.

On his way back in from the store he met his neighbor from across the hall. They greeted each other and exchanged brief updates. Her kid was home from college for the summer. He hadn’t received any responses to the numerous job applications he had submitted. “You know how it is, a computer does the first pass on all the resumes. If you don’t have just the right phrasing or use the right buzz words, you’re passed over. It’s so frustrating to have your future controlled by a machine!” “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s the deal with that woman across the way? You have to have noticed her, right?”

His neighbor shook her head yes emphatically. Explaining that she was there just like that when she moved in ten years ago. For all she knew, she’s been here since the place was built 100 years ago. Of course, she was joking, but they shared a bit of uneasiness over her nonetheless.

“Did you know this place was built in the 1920s as a residence for single women who didn’t want to live in their father’s house anymore? Back then most women were controlled by their fathers until they were controlled by their husbands! If you ever were able to see into the basement on the Elmwood side of the building, you can see a huge room with a big fireplace. That was their tea room!”

When he was back in his kitchen he saw the package from that morning. He tossed it onto his bed, put the groceries away, and then grabbed a knife to open the box. He absentmindedly lit up another cigarette. He picked up the package again and turned it over for any clue as to the sender. He was about to slice into the seam when his phone chirped. Reflexively he picked it up to see what it was announcing. Just some spam email again. He went into the app and flagged it as spam. Scanned the few other emails, read one, before setting the phone down again.

He pulled back the flaps and dumped out the contents wrapped in brown paper. He peeled away the paper and saw a beautiful black lacquer box with an unusual gold embossed design on its cover. He saw underneath a key in the bottom and realized it must be a music box. He lifted the cover and it began to play.

The cigarette burned his fingers and he snapped back from his reverie. How strange. He stubbed out what was left of the cigarette, the long ash falling off before he got it to the ashtray. He looked in the box for a note or letter. Checked the brown paper for a message or a clue. Nothing. He wound the music box up and settled back to listen again. Such a delightful melody, familiar and yet not. He tried to hum along.

His bladder was screaming. He glanced around the room. He was sitting on the bed holding the music box. Something wasn’t right. It was dark. How long had he been sitting there? He set aside the box and rushed to the bathroom to relieve himself. He returned to the bedroom and stared at the box. He sat on the bed. He reached for the pack of cigarettes and then stopped. No, he didn’t want a smoke. He wanted…the music? He shuddered and jumped up retreating to the kitchen.

This was too strange. He forced himself to make a sandwich. Poured a glass of milk and went to watch some television. Lately he had been streaming Penny Dreadful and it seemed he couldn’t get enough of it. He had to fight the urge to binge the entire season every time. Tonight though he just couldn’t get into it. He kept losing track, pausing and rewinding before he eventually gave up. He went to the windows. There she was watching. Her silhouette back lit. He realized he was humming the tune and stopped himself, but in his head the music continued on. Without thinking he grabbed his keys from the kitchen and left to go for a walk to clear his head. He was blocks away before he even realized he had left without his phone.

He must have walked for a good hour. He wasn’t sure because his phone always told him what time it was. It was a cool night, full moon, nice breeze. He felt so peaceful as he returned to his apartment. He turned the key and realized he had forgotten to look for the woman. The clock in the hall was chiming eleven! He must have been walking for hours.

He lay down to try to sleep. The moonlight was too bright. His body didn’t want to relax. His legs were restless. He got up to the bathroom more than once. He realized he hadn’t had a single cigarette since earlier in the day. He straightened the twisted sheets and lay down once more. His hand reached out and settled on the music box lying there. Yes. The music…and he opened it up to hear the familiar strains.

He woke up very early. He went to make coffee before realizing he didn’t want any. He grabbed some biscuits and returned to the bedroom. Without thinking he wound up the music box and started it playing. Hours later he emerged from his fog. Biscuits were on the bed and the floor. He was parched. He slowly got up, picked up the biscuit pieces and tossed them before getting himself a glass of water. He then mindlessly grabbed his keys and went outside for another walk. He didn’t even notice the woman watching from her apartment above.

As he walked he thought of nothing in particular but repeated the song in his head, at times humming along as he wandered through the neighborhood. As he returned to his building the music in his head had expanded to a full orchestra playing the music box theme. In the courtyard he began to dance, a grand waltz with an imaginary partner…no…he knew then he was dancing with her! Around and around he went. When the music ended, he bowed to a partner no one else could see before he went inside.

He sat on his bed and held the black lacquer box in his lap. No need for cigarettes. His phone battery had long run dry. He felt at peace and just sat there waiting.

In her apartment the old woman picked up the doll and walked to an enormous cupboard. Inside were shelf upon shelf with an assortment of dolls. She wedged the boy doll in with the others and removed a black lacquer music box from a drawer at the bottom. She carried it with her to the front room and set it by the window where she stood and watched and waited.