Porcelain Doll

L'Innocence by Bouguereau

                      I made my way over to the living room where my mom was on the phone, I assume with the moving truck company. I sat down on the maroon-colored couch we had owned for at least 16 years now, I laid my foot on the sofa and let out a small wince. My ankle still hurts from the pain every time I take a step; I was so busy that it wasn't until now that I had taken a look at what was the reason for the sharp pain. I lifted up my pants, I looked down at my ankle and noticed fresh scratch marks as if a work or a hyena had taken a toll on it. It looked as if I was running away from a feral wolf and it had caught me, stretching my ankle so I couldn't run away. I was confused as how I didn't notice this beforehand, the pants were stained with blood,

"Ma, can you please come here? There's something I want you to see" I called out for my mom

She looked over at me and hung up the phone. She walked over to me and looked down to see what I was so concerned about. "Oh, my savior" She let out softly, her hand covering her mouth. "I really don't think I slipped on something when I was walking up those stairs, ma" I looked up at her and said in a semi sarcastic tone.

"Hold on Rue, I'll get the first aid kit. You just stay right here" She assured me as she walked over to the bathroom, as she left, I watched her walk away then I turned my gaze back at my wound. I thought back to the child-like figurine. Could I have actually seen something? No but that's absurd, even if there was a child in the basement there's no way that a child could do something like this. I felt it grab my ankle but not scratch it. I thought to myself.

I watched as my mother came back, holding a white plastic box with the words "First Aid" on the lid. She sat down next to me and grabbed my ankle, I let out a small wince "Mom, will you please be careful? You know, it does hurt." I whined to her, assuring her that she should be more careful. She apologized and took out a bottle of alcohol. I knew it was going to sting so I looked away.

I stared at a Christian painting across the hallway L'Innocence by Bouguereau It was a painting of a pale woman with light brown hair dressed in a white gown that reached to her bare feet, she was holding a small baby that had short blonde hair, not to mention she was also holding a white lamb. I always thought the painting was particular, why was she holding a lamb? And why was she barefoot?

While being in a trance about the painting I hadn't even noticed that my mother had cleaned up the wound and put a clean bandage around it. She told me to clean the wound and change the bandages often, which was common sense, I didn't fret too much about it. My mother ended up giving me a rosary in a "just in case" it was actually a demon that had tripped me.

Apart from an obsession with holy paintings, my mother also had an obsession with glass dolls. Those dolls that seem so realistic that you can't help but stare at them just in case you might catch them moving, we had packed up at least 21 porcelain dolls that were cramped up in the basement. "Hey ma, did you by chance pack Mara up? I don't remember seeing her" for the record, Mara was one of my personal favorites as a kid, "Mara? That brunette curly haired glass doll? Huh, I don't remember" My mother replied, her voice kind of wondering

I thought about the doll for a moment before correcting her "I'm pretty sure she had blonde curls, didn't she?" My mother looked over at me and stayed silent for a second, her face suddenly lit up as if connecting the final piece of the puzzle "Ah yes, you're right. Blonde curly hair Mara. If she's not in one of the boxes then she's sure to be in the basement" My mother assured me, her voice assuring me.

I mean, that was odd, wasn't it? I was pretty confident that there was nothing else in the basement, I would have remembered seeing her. I may have not played with her for a few years, but I remember her pretty fairly; pale skin, green, emerald eyes, tight blonde curls, orange fluffy dress... or maybe it was brown? Okay I wasn't fully sure, but I would have remembered her if I did stuff her in a box. 

 I walked to the end of the hallways where the door to the basement was, across the door being the L'innocence painting. I stared at the painting for a few seconds before opening the basement door. The vibe felt more eerie than before, I switched on the light. The light bulb heated up but flicked for a moment before burning out. Aw man... Did the light bulb burn out? I swear I changed it a few days ago. I groaned to myself

"Hey mom, do we have any extra light bulbs? The basement light burned out" I yelled out, warning my mother. Soon enough I heard a reply "Uhm I'm not actually sure, why don't you just use a flashlight? I think there's one in a cabinet in the kitchen" she said in this self-assured tone. I felt slightly annoyed and decided I didn't need any flashlights.

I stared into the empty void and for a few seconds as it stared back at me.

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine and decided it just wasn't worth it, I shut the basement door and handed over to the kitchen .... looking for that damn flashlight...

After a few minutes of what seemed like pointless searching I finally had found it, that damn the flashlight. I tested it to see if it actually worked. Yeah, it was fine. I made my way back to the basement door.

I noticed the door was...open? Did I leave it open? No, that's dumb. I'm pretty sure I closed it. But then again maybe I didn't, you know what? It was probably mom, just checking if the light was actually burned out. I brushed off the creepy feeling and stared into the darkness before turning the flashlight on and a sigh long of relief left my body, look at that. An empty basement, soon enough I made my way down the stairs.