*Disclaimer: My Flash Fiction Fridays will be creepy themed for the month of October. I don't plan to have any live gore or mass murders, but please note I am writing out of my usual light-hearted style.
Doll Car
By,
Jennifer E. Miller
He walked up to the garage sale
and look around. There weren’t any dolls. He moved on to the next house.
Several children played in the front yard, giggling and chasing each other. He
saw a box of antique toys and rummaged through it. He found a rubber doll,
probably from the 1950s. It had painted eyes that look off to one side, and a
curly-q of hair painted on top of its head.
Perfect, he thought.
He walked up to the table, seated
in the shade, to pay. The homeowner, a woman, was talking jovially to a girl
friend.
“I’d like to purchase this,” the
man said. “How much?”
The homeowner abruptly stopped
her conversation. “The vintage items should have marked at—“
She cut herself off. His
appearance startled her. An obese man, dressed in faded black clothing. There
were holes in his shoes. He had shoulder length greasy hair, and a missing
bottom tooth. Sweat beaded along his temples. It was a hot day, but it added to
the unusual feeling she got.
“—those should be marked at $3.00
apiece.”
“Okay,” he said, reaching into
his pocket.
He handed her three one dollar
bills. They were damp.
The homeowner took the money,
making a mental note to grab hand sanitizer.
“Thank you,” she said. “Have a
nice day.”
He nodded once. “You do the same,
ma’am.”
As the man walked down the
driveway and onto the sidewalk, one of the girls playing noticed he bought the
doll. She ran toward him and asked him why he purchased it.
“I collect dolls,” he answered.
The girl squinted up at him,
blocking the sunlight with her palm. “But you’re a boy.”
“I know. But I have a unique
collection.”
She stared at him, and then at
doll in his hand, not knowing what to say.
“I’ll be on my way now, kid.”
He continued walking and turned
around the corner. His enormous size made walking even down the street
exhausting. The heat was getting to him and he was glad to reach his front
door. There was no air conditioning, but a rickety fan oscillated from the
front room’s corner. He reached for a glass and filled it from the tap; water
leaked from the handle. Then he opened a drawer, took out a dish rag, wet it, and
patted his face to cool off.
After feeling more at ease, he
went about his task. He slid open the cutting board and placed the doll upon
it.
Just dolls, he thought, never real.
Reaching for the cleaver, he
grabbed it. With a swift swing, he sliced the doll’s head off just under the
chin, leaving a smooth spot. The body was thrown in the trash.
He walked out of the kitchen into
the dusty garage. Switching on the fluorescent light, it flickered and hummed
to life. In the middle was a car. It was older; the kind with square edges
rather than the round contours of modern vehicles. Decorating the car’s
exterior were heads. Doll heads. His goal was to cover it completely, inside
and out. However, he was selective on the dolls, only choosing the ones that no
longer wanted. It’s the way he felt. Unwanted. Used, abused, and left for
scavengers.
He created a place for the lost
souls. Convinced he wasn’t alone, the heads symbolized their existence. When he
drove the car around town, it frightened people. They shuttered and turned
away. He would make them see the terror inside of the unwanted. His mission
must continue.
Picking up the heavy duty glue
from the tool chest, he walked over the car, squirted a glop on the hood, and
secured the doll head. It's painted eyes hadn’t changed their expression, but
detached from its body looked...empty.
His creation was ready for
another roll around town.
Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller
Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller
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