How To Capture A Masquerade (And Other Odd Tales)

Doll Collection

"Begin protocol MSQ-RDR, Subject 000. Date: Monday, 15th of October 2012, Time: 8:30 am. Tell me the story of how you failed."

*

Repeated bangs on a metal door rip Amy from her nightmare. She sits up and nearly falls face first into the rug as she fumbles for a light switch. White florescent lights flicker on and tells her that she is safe. She is still in the sanctuary of her room with all its little comforts, there isn't someone chasing her down a dark labyrinth and there aren't voices whispering in her ear to run for her life. There's a bit more force from the banging on her door when it comes again.

"Come in!" She knows there could only, and she loved and trusted this person with her life. He had kept her safe, after all.

A series of clicks and snaps came from the door, before it creaks open to reveal a tall, old middle-aged man with his hands behind his back. He has a gleeful smile spread across his thin pink lips, peeking out from a mound of white fluffy hair. From those smiling lips he begins to sing a cheery, off-key tune.

"Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday sweet Amanda, Happy birthday to you!"

Amy giggles and claps her hands as the man sings. He pulls one of his hands from his back to reveal a plate with a slice of pink cake covered in pink frosting. She grabs the plate. A finger from her normal hand scoops up a dollop of frosting and her tongue darts out to taste it. She makes a hum of approval around her finger.

"Strawberry! My favorite."

"Eat up!"

Amy shovels forkful after forkful of cake into her mouth as fast as her hand can move. She tries to savor each quick bite as it comes to her, knowing that she couldn't just leave it. Food tends to spoil ever so quickly in this room. And spoilage is not approved.

"Thank you, Dad." She says as she drops the plate on her table. Her arms wrap around her father and reaches for the object behind his back. He pushes her away playfully

"Nice try!" He raises his busy hand into the air, the box in it almost scrapping against the dark ceiling

"What's the point? You're giving it to me anyway!"

"I need to give it to you, first, silly."

Only after Amy drops her hands in defeat does he hand her the gift. It has a soft red lace wrapped around it. Amy traces along it with her right hand. It stings, almost the same way lace would have for her sensitive left hand.

"Go on, open it!"

When Amy unfurls the pink lace ribbon and flings the box lid off, she sees a doll lying in it. She has on a frilly red dress, the kind that queens were always wearing in Amy's storybooks. Her red lips are curled into a small, lifeless smile, her glassy blue eyes are staring coldly at Amy, her ceramic hands are across its chest as if it held something secret inside its hollow chest. Her face is framed by a fiery red mass of gorgeous curly hair

"What do you think of her? Isn't it beautiful?"

"She's...different."

It was not a strange thing for her father to give her a doll as a gift. He had given her a few before, sometimes she got one because it was her birthday, sometimes it was because she did a great job with her homework, sometimes she was given one for no reason. There was Charlie who lay on top of her bedspread on the floor, her flurry of motion knocking her out of bed. Macy and Roger were perched on her bookshelf, watching the door and keeping guard against monsters. Leo the lion had gotten stuck under the bed again, the sneaky little troublemaker probably trying to hide one of Amy's books. Jason is in her drawer for a bit, resting from yesterday's activities.