AGALMATOPHILIA

THE 2ND: _-:49:-_ :LAST PART

The package, still atop his coffee table, stares at him.

It had been untouched since his friends had left earlier, Tyler had sat himself across from it now, previously circling it like a curious cat, he wasn't sure how to approach the situation.

Hands hovered above the cardboard, moved down and around the sides, fingers twitching, itching to touch, but the electricity radiating off of the object left Tyler's hands retreating every time he neared, hands balled, palms sweating profusely.

He couldn't seem to touch it, no matter how hard he had tried, so, he thinks, what had he done with the previous ones?

The first package, Tyler had been excited to receive.

He had ordered a beautiful pair of yellow gloves, the cooler weather had started to seep into his house, and with no upstairs heating, Tyler's only option was to buy warmer clothes, blankets, and a tiny heater for his room.

He imagined it very vividly as he bounced down the stairs at the sound of the doorbell, singing out a sweet "I'm coming!" at the expectancy of snail person, wearing his snug gloves, curled up on the lounge, small TV illuminating half of his face in a blue glow, whilst his fire place sent a cast of orange over the other half, gloved hands cradling a warm cup of cocoa,  he had it planned so perfect.

He had expected a parcel, not a box.

Still, ecstatic, he plucks it off his front porch, dancing his way into the den but not before bumping the door closed with his hip.

He was giggling to himself when he first held the box, rattling it around, he couldn't hear much from within, so he placed it in the very same spot that the current box sat, twirling himself into the kitchen, he hummed a tune, a tune only he knew, one his sickly head had conjured during a late night up and alone.

Snatching a knife from its block, Tyler moves swiftly back into the living room, feet gliding across the floor gracefully.

He had been smiling, until he sliced the plastic tape open, peeling the box flaps back, dug through a load of newspaper and picked up:

A wooden dolls leg.

There was no foot, nothing else in the package, just one, perfectly, smooth, carved wooden leg.

It even had a joint at the knee, that could move, each piece within the joint, made of wood, and he knew only one man who could craft such an amazing piece of art.

Dropping the leg, letting it clatter to the ground, Tyler began to shake, while body vibrating with fear and rage, stepping back from the box, the leg, he slipped whilst backing away, falling to floor in tears.

That night, Tyler cradled himself in the feral position the whole night, not one wink of sleep he had gotten, but he did accomplish one thing.

A twelve hour crying fit.

For the next few months, every week, sometimes twice a week, a parcel would arrive at his house.

It would every time, with out fail, contain a wooden doll part, after the leg, he received an arm, then another leg, and so on until he had gotten a whole doll.

But there was something off, because he didn't get just two legs, he had gotten four in total, four arms, and some weird off cut looking pieces that Tyler, at first, had thought to be mistakes.

But he didn't make mistakes, he made masterpieces.

So present Tyler, sat.

He stared at the current package, there was only one thing left he was to receive, if he had counted all his previous "gifts" properly, then he knew what this one would be.

Brendon's warning, to not assemble the pieces quickly, and sharply pierced his thoughts for a brief moment.

Brendon had been getting them a lot longer, and much faster than Tyler did, he put it down to the move. Perhaps Brendon was just easier to find than he was, after all, Brendon did remain in the same town after the incident.

Fingers rapping along his knee for a moment, Tyler thinks.

He knows what he has to do, so he stands, enters his hallway, and follows it back down into the spare room, where each and every previous box sat, piled in the corner with pieces spilling out, half way across the room like a sick crime scene, almost like their old basement freezer.

He collects each wooden part, brings them to the table, and scatters them out, fingers tensing, opening and closing as if he were preparing himself for the test of a life time.

He picks up one of the off cut looking pieces, and an arm, the joints match perfectly, so he pops them together, now realising that the piece the arm connects to was a possible torso, so he continues snapping each joint together, once he's finished what looks like a normal body, he's still left with more confusing parts.

Frowning, Tyler pokes his tongue out, chewing it, desperate to figure out this tedious puzzle.

Picking up yet another smooth wooden part, he clicks it into the top of the shoulder socket, creating an elongated torso, where another arm could fit.

He frowns, this time, it's from anxiety, fear.

Swallowing, he moves onto popping another piece into the opposite shoulder, the body now creating a Y shape with two extra parts and two extra arms either side.

Moving back down, he pieces together the two extra legs, irregularly long next to their brothers, with three knees and not one.

The body had been completed now, Tyler thought, he was left with no other parts, only this monster of a body.

He thought, he needed a head, only one but the shape of this creature of a doll indicated he would need two, so he looks back to the box finally.

Slowly, his hand crawls towards it, picking it up carefully, he puts it upon his lap, finger nails picking the tape off.

He peels back the flaps, one by one, removing the newspapers balled up and stuffed inside.

Once he reaches his present, Tyler's whole body drains of blood, turning white, he feels faint, then the hyperventilating begins.

He stares into four eyes, he wished they were on one head, but the two heads, connected by two necks, make him want to throw up

The expressions are solemn, melancholic, one face has black streaks running from its eyes, almost like it had cried makeup, the other, has beautiful light mahogany, perfectly matching a skin tone he knew well.

He tosses the package across the room, quickly standing and combing his fingers through his hair.

Those heads, the faces, they were uncanny, they were perfectly sculpted after two people Tyler was very close to.

Himself.

And Brendon.