Devil’s Doll Reincarnation | Chapter 1 | Prologue

“Hey, Michael! We’re here,” called out a familiar voice.

Opening my eyes, I rose from my uncomfortable sleeping position in the backseat of the car. My good friend was looking back at me from the driver’s seat, donning his usual disappointed expression.

“You know… for someone as smart as you, I’m surprised you don’t already have your driver’s license.”

As much as it hurt to hear that, he was completely right. I studied my ass off in school, leaving no time to take my driver’s test. Well… it’s not like my hard work in school has helped me find a job anyway, so I don’t really have the right to act all high and mighty.

“It doesn’t matter how smart you are in a world like this, without connections you won’t get far. I mean, just take a look at yourself Thomas. You basically had your job handed to you, just because you knew the guy in charge.

My sound reasoning once again silenced Thomas, as he desperately tried to think up a comeback. Realising he couldn't, he put his arms up in surrender, before turning around to open the car door. Watching him leave, I decided to follow his example. Getting out of the car revealed the rest of the massive, dirty, grey metalworking facility; that was previously obscured by the small car windows. Disturbing the dirt floor with out footsteps brought up a thin layer of visible dust that instantly stuck to my black jeans.

The privately owned business covered at least three kilometres in every direction, with multiple logically placed buildings all with different uses. I've come here with the intention of getting a job, I’ve got all the necessary requirements to do so, and I believe I left a good impression on the recruitment officer when I made the call.

I did my research. This place mainly pumps out simple metal constructions, like steel beams and girders. As of a few months ago it was importing it’s materials from overseas, but now that they have their very own smeltery within company grounds, they can save millions every year by producing their own materials. It was a simple yet effective move from them, it's just that the place still needed workers before any serious work could begin.

“Michael, you look like you’re thinking really hard about something. I suggest you ease up, the recruitment guy is coming over.”

“Oh ah… yeah.”

I scan over where Thomas had gestured to, spotting a man in a similar get-up as myself, except with an orange vest over his shoulders. Seeing that he was busy looking at his clipboard, I took the chance to quickly pat myself down, somewhat removing whatever dirt and dust I could from my freshly ironed white T-shirt and black jeans. Unfortunately, my previously shiny black shoes were splotched with an irremovable, grey dust. Ignoring it for now, I somehow managed to straighten myself out into a presentable manner the moment the man arrived.

He gave us a once over, looked back at his clipboard, and then shook both our hands one after the other. He introduced himself as Geoff. After that, he paused for a moment while idling a finger in the air. Attempting to recall our names from memory.

“… Michael, and?”

“Thomas. I drove him here.”

“Yeah. He’s a good friend of mine.”

And with that abrupt greeting, our introductions were all done. We briskly made our way through the smeltery floor as Geoff went on and on about how impressed he was with my achievements and capabilities. The actual job position I was going for was a management role in the new smeltery. It was, hopefully, going to be my job to assist in keeping track of all the materials and people coming to and from this place. It sounded like a pretty simple job. High pay, easy work, nice people. It almost seemed like everything was going to start going my way for once.

Unfortunately, I could not have been more wrong. Like, what the fuck, it couldn’t have possibly gone any worse.

I’d just finished the final interview with Geoff in his nice, new smelling, air-conditioned office. Leaving Thomas waiting outside. I’d successfully gotten the job and was desperately trying to hold in the pure bliss that was bundling up inside me. Breaking the prolonged professionalism I’d been holding up til now was not exactly ideal, it would be plain awkward at this point.

What astounded me the most, out of everything today, was the fact that the company was already using the smeltery. Giant metal cauldrons filled with molten steel were suspended high up in the air by a complicated system of pulleys, beams, and thick steel wires built into the roof. Newly hired staff were learning how the system worked, while a professional demonstrated the process for them. It looked pretty easy to me if I had to be honest. Just imagine one of those... what do you call them? Those claw grabbing machines you can find in an arcade, except scaled up a few hundred times. Simply remove the claw with a tipping bucket and you’re done.

Now, maybe because I was feeling smug at the time while comparing myself to the other workers, that my fate ended up like this…

A loud creaking, and the screech of reinforced metal breaking echoed throughout the open facility. I spun around to look in the direction of this horrific sound, with everything gradually going into slow motion. I looked on helplessly as one of the giant buckets, full of molten steel, slid across it’s support beams at break neck speeds. My legs froze up, and my thoughts grew rushed and hazy. Only to snap back into place as the ear-splitting crack of the breaking hinge reached my ears. It was too late, it was already tipping towards me.

Half the bucket’s contents flung out and fell towards me like an inescapable net. Raising my arms above me in an instinctual, yet useless, attempt to save myself was all I could do. Petrified by fear I could only watch on as the magma like substance poured itself over me. Wailing in pain. My hands were the first to go, I could see them turn darker before almost liquefying and joining the molten liquid’s course. My vision was vision the next to go, but could still feel the burning sensation covering me from head to toe. It wasn’t as painful as I would’ve expected, since my nerves had all burned away before any real pain could hit me.

I noticed one by one each of my senses shutting down; after sight and touch came hearing, then smell, and finally one other sense I wasn’t aware I had. My natural awareness of other those around me. At this point it was difficult to know whether I was even thinking anymore, it was just complete darkness, no sounds, no smells, no sensations.

… Nothing …

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I’d been in this nothingness for a while now, where over time, a low whirring sound had become apparent. I didn't notice it until I'd calmed down, re-aligning my thoughts enough to finally question how I could still hear at all. So, naturally, it was probably just a figment of my imagination. I’d heard that the human brain would hallucinate to entertain itself when left in complete silence. Also, although not exactly something of major importance, I find that my emotions have become rather lacking after losing all sensation. I can’t sob, cry, or throw a tantrum. My body isn’t affected by any outside sources, since neither exist, and you can only think to yourself about pointless things. I'd often brought up ways I could've prevented this, and berated myself for not being a better person in general. Maybe because all that extra processing information was lost on me, I could think clearer than ever before.

It wasn't long before I fell into unending boredom though, as it already felt like I'd been here for an excruciatingly long time. I’ve quite literally ran out of things to think about, and in all honesty I'd take anything that comes my way.

With all this time to myself I’ve already gotten over my death, and sure, all my friends and relatives will probably be sad about it, but it’s not like I can do anything to fix that. There is literally nothing to do here except think back on things and imagine stuff to entertain myself. For example, this self-monologue I’ve been doing for a while. It's almost embarrassing when you think about.

I do have to say though, I’m very disappointed in how life after death is. I wasn't exactly expecting anything, but I was still curious, much like how I'd expect most people to feel. Yet, there were some ridiculous things I read in stories a few years ago that peaked my interest. Of course, nothing like that could ever happen.

Man… I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I’ve noticed that annoying whirring sound has been getting louder with every passing moment, it’s getting harder and harder to think. If I stop thinking maybe I’ll just disappear completely? Yet, is that something I really want? I may have died, but still, it’s natural to not want to fade into nothingness, isn’t it?

…

It’s been a long time now, or at least I think it has, and that annoying whirring sound is now at the point of being deafening. It’s like surrounding yourself with speakers and blasting low-pitched noise directly at yourself.

*ding*

… Eh?

Was that a bell? Wait, of course it was. My very being practically focused itself onto that sound, lusting after anything to entertain itself. It seems that horrible whirring has stopped as well, making my thoughts clearer than ever. Not only that, but a new sound has taken place, sounding more like some kind of mechanical structure. Maybe an old clock? I can clearly make out the sounds of gears grinding together, and the steady rhythm of something ticking.

What could it possibly be? This is the only thing that has happened in what seems like aeons, so I can’t help but be exited and scared at the same time. The sound stopped on a final big clinking sound, as if something had just been jostled or unlocked.

To my surprise, my vision was flashed with a blinding light. It was impossible to look away, so I could only bear the brunt of the strange new feeling. Now that I think about it, my sight had returned; it was blurry yet unmistakably there. Not only that, I could hear faint voices in the distance. I felt as if I could cry at any moment, alas nothing was coming out. Had I been saved? Am I laying in a hospital bed somewhere right now? Is my family okay?

… No.

No, no. This can’t be right. I seem to be looking at a wall made of logs. Is this a cabin or an old lodge of some sort? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a house like this in person, or anywhere around town even. Where exactly am I? Shouldn’t I be in a hospital bed or something? Well… since nobody is here right now, I guess I can only assess my surroundings right? Turning my stiff neck, I immediately felt what little energy I had drain away. I felt extremely sluggish, and trying to move was pretty much impossible. I couldn’t feel my arms or legs, but I could look down enough to see if they were there, ignoring the odd shape they had taken. I attempted calling out for help, but it appears that I lacked a functioning mouth too.

How depressing. I guess I’m a cripple now, with prosthetic legs and a messed up face. No, that’s not for certain, lets just focus on the room for a bit.

Darting my eyes all over the room, and scrambling what little information I had together could only tell me this was without a doubt just some ordinary log cabin. Although it severely lacks any sign of technology, with not even a power point to plug devices into in sight. I think I’m sitting on the edge of an unpolished wooden table, and behind me is another wall. This place has crude glass windows as well, but I can’t see out of them well enough with all the fog clinging to them.

Now… the problem with these observations is that I’m sitting on a wooden table. I don’t remember being small enough to easily fit on a shoddy thing like this. So, you know, that’s something to ponder over. Oh, by the way, if I could cry I think tears would be endlessly streaming down my face right now, who knew I’d actually survive! Aren’t I lucky? Anyway, that's all well and good, but I believe I’ve finally figured out the situation.

I have come to the reasonable conclusion that, after the molten steel injured me, the company workers took what was left of my body. Deciding it was best to just hide me away in some old lodge out the back, just like what some evil, corrupt business from a movie would do. Right? I’m a genius, aren’t I? I will admit one thing though. I cannot for the life of me figure out why this room has a grindstone inside. There’s also stuff like clay in the corner, along with some paints on the nearby shelf. I can also just manage to see some old axes and hatchets on the rack behind me too. Does the owner collect medieval weaponry? Or is this some freaky artistic torture shack? Either way, this room gives off the feeling of being a frequently used workplace, so I should expect to see someone come in through the door soon.

After maybe another twenty minutes or so, I figured out how to sigh in my mind. Great… I’m surprised I haven’t gone insane yet, but I’ve been slowly realising new things one by one as I desperately try to entertain myself to keep myself sane. In that time, I found some evidence of this not even being my own body, or at least my hand. It happened while I was peering around the room, I tried to avoid looking at it, but I got bored enough eventually to stare at it for a good amount of time to figure out what it was.

My hand was seemingly made of an unknown, special white porcelain, that looked disturbingly like human skin. The only thing giving it away was how perfect it was. Not a single blemish, freckle, or mark could be found. At a first glance, you wouldn’t have been able to notice any difference. It looked human, but at the same time fake, as if it was too good to be true. It was undoubtedly my hand though, since after maybe an hour or two I could just barely twitch one of the fingers.

I will, however, completely ignore the fact that it looks like a little girl’s hand… I hope to god this is just a temporary prosthetic limb…

Oh? Wait a second. I think I hear someone outside. It sounds like heavy footsteps treading on dirt or gravel, I’m getting a simple idea of their position as they walk around the cabin too. After it rounded the corner, a clinking sound could be heard. If whoever was there had the keys, then this is more than likely their place. I wonder what this person will look like? How will they act when they see me? Do they know that I’m here?

The person clicked open the lock and walked inside, a long brown overcoat was hiding everything from shoulder down, and a hood combined with the already dark room provided enough shade to block any attempts of seeing their face. Mighty inconvenient huh?

The person removed the coat and hung it on a hook by the door, doing so brought up plenty of new information for me to observe. For one thing, it was some kind looking old man. He was wearing a simple brown shirt and pants with a leather harness over him. He had a big white beard and a receding hairline, with a happy grin plastered on his face.

To be honest he just looked like one of those kind rich uncles you’d see sometimes, minus the cash. As much as I’d like to speak to him I couldn't. So, I could only watch on as he unpacked his stuff, and finally sat down on a stool in front of me, speaking in some weird language I couldn't understand.

“H̸͖̅e̸͕̪̒̈͂͗l̷̠̩͆l̴̝̥̙̾̇̈͜ő̸͉͖͇̂,̸̠͎̰̇̏ ̶̢̐F̸u̷m̴i,̴͔̣̋ ̶̤̤̉̿̆i̶̼̅͌t̴̙͝s̸̬̫̘̿͑͗ ̷̯̬̏̂ͅͅn̵̢̙̩̠̄̀͝ȋ̵̛̩̝̤͐ç̵͉͝ḙ̸͖͖͖́ ̶̝̀̿̈́̏t̷͔̍̀̏̈́ö̶̱͕͉́͒͘͝ ̵̞̭͕̠͑́s̵͎̄́̌ę̷̱͋̇͝ę̸͙̅ ̶̛̖̫͉̫͋̒̕y̸̟̱̋͋o̷̢͈̞͛͐͒u̵̢̳͐́͘.”

What was that? Is Fumi… this dolls name?