The room itself was long and rectangular. Brightly lit with modern lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling, making everything visible. On either side of her, there looked to be an assortment of old samurai equipment, weaponry and Samurai armour along with other things that ornately decorated the walls of the room. Yet, it was the object in the center which held Taryn’s complete attention.
It was a doll.
A human-sized doll.
When Taryn first saw it, she nearly jumped back into the other room when it came into view. For the mere fact that it was just sitting there. As if someone placed it intently to prank someone. Or give them a heart attack. Or both.
After the sudden shock subsided, Taryn recalled something that Toya told her during the festival, of an old practice that some of the villagers would perform. One of which a person would make a doll of the deceased likeness. They would then burn it out of respect and mourning after a certain allotment of time once they believed that the dead were at peace.
But those dolls in question were small, nothing at all like the one in this room. Then she recalled the story Sato told them when they first arrived in the village. Of the Priestess and her husband lost in his grief, turning her lifeless body into a doll. Taryn half-expected the possibility that someone would go out of their way to make a life-sized doll to be burned during the festival. She just never thought that she would find one this far in the mansion.
From where she stood, the doll was sitting with its legs tucked underneath itself, its ball-jointed hands clasped together in its lap as though it were in prayer. The kimono was a dark red that looked like a dark red sunset with darker red thread depicting red hydrangeas embordered into the fabric as a black obi-belt held it in place. A black overcoat with white spider lilies stitched into the rather expensive-looking fabric draped over its shoulders as its long dark brown, almost black hair stopped at the waist.
Taryn stood still for a solid minute, merely looking at the doll before, finally, taking a step forward. Slowly made her way until she was a foot away and knelt before it. Now that she was closer, she could see the doll’s face.
It looked like Toya. With the same dark jade green eyes and hair, it even had the same earring dangling from its ear. Seeing this, she wondered why it was left in this room, quickly recalling what Toya said to her not long after they met.
“…I have been told that I share many characteristics with my late grandfather. But I find it merely hearsay.”
As if, it looks just like him. Taryn thought. Just seeing a doll version of him was rather uncanny. And a bit creepy. Okay, really creepy.
Like it was alive.
As though it could have moved all on its own, that’s how realistic it looked to her at that moment. Hell, if someone wanted to, they could pull a prank by just moving the doll around to make it seem like it was alive, but that would just be cruel to do to anyone, even the doll.
It brought an almost eerie parallel to the Priestess’s story of burning the village down out of anger that her body could never truly rest. However, that thought was brief as that led to another question as she stared at the sitting doll.
Why was it here?
If this was Toya’s late grandfather, shouldn’t it have been burned a long time ago? Or did the wife, Toya’s grandmother, choose against it for personal reasons? Questions that she wasn’t even sure if she could ask. Or should, for that matter. Toya might not even know about this doll being in his own home. Or, if he did, wished not to think of it as a possible ominous reminder. All she could do was speculate.
Her gaze then shifted to what was behind the doll; there was more to this room, going even further back. Casting one last glance at the doll, she stood and walked past it. Along with more samurai armour and swords or other tools, she came across a painted screen of red butterflies, behind it was another door. This time it was one with an actual doorknob and hinges keeping it in place. The wood looked solid, even by just giving it a few taps with the back of her hand, she could tell. The door itself wouldn’t budge when she tried to open it. It was locked with an old padlock that had a design of flowers that looked like Hydrangeas.
Meaning that it was now a dead end; she had no choice but to go back the way she came. For a brief moment, she thought of looking further into the surrounding area. She had left a note for Rachael by her friend’s stuff when she first returned to the room to let her know what she would be doing.
It had been a relatively short note without much info. One that she had written quickly because she wished to find more of what June mentioned in the torn journal. It wasn’t in Taryn’s nature to leave her friend worried, and with how bad the cell reception was in this place, a note was better than nothing.
Looking at how this door was locked deterred her from continuing onwards. She was about to head back with a sigh of defeat when she heard a peculiar sound coming from the other end of the room. Only to see that the doll had fallen over and was now laying on its side.
“God, that scared me,” she muttered under her breath as she knelt by the fallen doll. “What would make you fall like that in the first place?” From what she could tell, there was nothing to indicate that it could have even fallen over the way it had been placed.
Now looking at the doll as it was, the long dark hair partly obscuring the face, its body showing just how tall it would have been if it was left standing up. This meant that the man who was modelled after this doll was very tall. Again, something she couldn’t help but compare to Toya since he was also about six feet or over in height with the same build. Her gaze then fell from the doll’s face to its hands. They had become unbound, probably because of the fall. But what she saw was something she didn’t expect.
It was a key.
Picking it up, she noticed that it had the same motif as the lock for the door, the same flowers and all.
Huh, how’s that for some odds? She thought to herself as she continued to look at the rather hefty key. With this, she might find out what was beyond that door. Much like before, it could have very well been nothing, a closet or some type of internal storehouse. Or an exit to another part of the mansion.
She wouldn’t know until she looked for herself.
Taryn sometimes hated this part of her curiosity; she’d never be satisfied until she checked what something could be. If Rachael had been here, then her friend would do what she could to stop Taryn from attempting, at least at first, before curiosity got the better of her as well.
Taryn laughed to herself, just thinking about it. Maybe she should have waited and brought Rachael along.
Her thoughts, along with her good mood, suddenly came to a halt when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Something with the doll.
At first, Taryn thought she saw something from the corner of her eye but realized that was not the case.
The doll’s eyes were looking right at her as if it was intently staring at her with that unblinking gaze.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Was it like that before?
When she had first seen the doll, she could have sworn that the doll’s gaze had been different. Looking towards the floor, not looking off to the side like it was now. Her unease returned, slowly creeping along her back as Taryn quickly stood, backing away from the fallen doll. She never liked dolls, not even as a kid. It might have just been since she could see those of the dead in mirrors that others couldn’t. Even then, it was just something about dolls that made her uncomfortable at times like this.
Could the doll be possessed? Something that caused the eyes to move? It could very well likely be the situation; however, she didn’t know much about possession. Norman would understand this better than she did. If she could contact him, that is. If this place had better reception, she’d call him right then and there.
She remained focused on the doll; Taryn couldn’t feel anything residual from where she stood. No emotions or anything else.
Perhaps she was mistaken; the doll might not have been possessed at all. Where the eyes merely moved as an aftereffect of falling so suddenly. It was all that she could come up with since she wasn’t comfortable touching the doll to find out.
Taryn glanced at the key and then back at the doll once more before making her decision. What happened with the doll shouldn’t have mattered. Her nerves were high-strung, making her think such things. Besides, she now had a way to get through to whatever lay beyond the door. So, she would take that option above her unease with a life-sized doll.
Letting out a slow breath to try and relax, Taryn walked back towards the locked door, and not to her surprise, she found that the key did indeed unlock the padlock. Gently taking the key and lock in her hands, she placed it on a nearby table, being as careful with it as humanly possible since she had no idea how old it was before turning her attention back to the door.
Taking hold of the doorknob, she turned and pulled inwards, and with a heavy groan, the door opened. The door had led her to another dimly lit hallway. And from where she stood, it looked familiar. That had been a bit of a problem with walking inside the mansion, much of its hallways and rooms looked similar.
But before she could take a step into the hallway and continue forwards, something caused her to freeze on the spot.
She heard another sound.
The sound of something squeaking, like that of an old door hinge that was in desperate need of oil, only it hadn’t come from the door that she opened it had remained as it was where she had left it.
She didn’t move. Her whole body turned rigid as every fibre of her being became entuned to this newfound sound. The fine hairs along the back of her neck rose as she tried to gauge what the strange sound was only to hear it again.
It was louder.
Coming from behind.
Instantly she turned when she saw a shadow loom over her, something reaching for her. Quickly she made a motion with her left arm as she turned around and was able to knock an object out of the person’s hand, a defensive move drilled into her to protect herself when needed, only to then notice that the hand that she had knocked the object from was ball-jointed hand.
Dread was the next thing to hit; her gaze immediately shot up to see that it was the doll standing in front of her. Looking down at her now frozen form.
How could it have moved?
She felt nothing from it. Nothing at all.
It was empty, yet there it stood.
Before she had the chance to react any further, to regain her awareness and act, the doll lunged forward and quickly wrapped its hands around her throat. Dragging her to the ground with a heavy thud.
Her fingers clawed at its hands, trying to pry them off. All the while continually kicking it in the abdomen with her foot. Once, twice, three times, four. It did nothing. The doll squeezed and faintly released its grip on her throat as she struggled.
What the hell was going on? How could it move? Why didn’t she feel anything from it? What did this mean if it wasn’t possessed by that of the dead? Was it alive?
In the moment of the struggle, she chastised herself. If she had been bold enough to try and touch it, to ignore her personal grievances, she would have noticed something was wrong. But because of her dislike for dolls, she had become too warry to try. To listen to that nagging feeling in the back of her skull.
Gritting her teeth, still trying to pry its hands off her neck, trying to twist herself out of its grasp, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a partly sheathed dagger hidden under a table. Or at least the Japanese equivalent, that had fallen to the floor. It must have done so when the doll pulled her to the ground. She reached for it with her right hand in her desperation while kicking at the big thing with her left foot.
Those glassy green eyes bore into her; it didn’t even seem to notice that her hand had moved as it continued to stare down at her, long black hair creating almost a veil around them. Though its face remained as it was, it somehow looked to Taryn as though it were slightly smiling. Pleased with what it was doing.
Her vision began to dim, she began to feel light-headed as it was a struggle to breathe. Then she felt her fingertips grasp the hilt, managing to get a full grip of it in her hand, she thrust the dagger into the doll’s abdomen with whatever remaining strength she had.
The doll froze; its grip had loosened around her throat completely as if it were in a state of shock. It gave her the incentive to kick the doll off her with all her might. It didn’t take much for it to fall away from her, now laying sprawled out on the floor.
Her lungs burned with needed oxygen as she took in several deep breaths of air. Her right hand, which wasn’t as strong as her left, remained in a tight grip on the dagger as her eyes stayed fixed on the doll. It hadn’t moved an inch. As if it hadn’t moved or tried to kill her just now.
With shaky legs, Taryn got up and staggered towards the door before closing it shut on the other side, vaguely she noticed a sliding lock attached to the other side of the door, one that she used to keep her and that doll separated. She could only hope that it would somehow keep the thing at bay. Falling to her knees for a moment, she coughed again as her breathing now began to wheeze.
Shit, my asthma. Taryn thought while coughing, and reached for her fanny pack with her left hand only to remember that she had left the damn thing in the room when she changed back into her regular clothes. For fucks sake. She thought with a snarl, chastising herself for making such a stupid mistake. Thinking on it, in her now muddled brain, it might not have done her any good in this condition, all the while she fought the desire to faint where she was.
She couldn’t do that here. Couldn’t allow it.
With a slow shake of her head, Taryn forced her now tried body, still pumping with adrenalin, to stand and move forwards. She needed to get away from that thing as far as possible. Needed to tell Rachael and the others. Needed to get out of this place.
It took her a minute to get up, staggering to stand, push herself off the wall and move. Every step felt like her feet were made of lead; her whole body swayed as her steps would cause her to nearly trip over herself, stumbling like a drunk. And when she found that she could walk no farther on her own, Taryn used a wall for support as she continued to push herself toward the hall’s end. Her left arm was a brace to keep herself from slumping against it.
A small task that felt like ages to do in her current state. It had been a long time since she felt this weak; she could think back to a few times when she was like this at a younger age, having to push herself past her limits. Yet somehow, those times couldn’t compare to now. In Canada, she had Isabella and Bob, her two bodyguards, to look out for her when her family or friends could not. Here, she was alone.
The closer she got to the end of the hall; she could hear the faint sound of rain. The outside was near. It was close. Just a bit more and she would be free…
That was until she saw someone come into view, with her now darkening vision due to her lack of oxygen to her brain from her asthma and pain from her throat, she couldn’t tell who it was until the person spoke.
“Lowell-san?” It was Toya.
Worry in his voice was all she could notice before her knees gave out. Her body went to coliid with the floor, only to be caught by him instead. At first, her body tensed for the worst, only to notice that he felt warm against her. He was alive.
She could hear the frantic rhythmic beating of his heart as he cradled her gently against his chest. He wasn’t the doll. “What happened?” he demanded in English, panic now straining his voice. “What happened to you?”
She tried to speak, but the pain caused her to only let out a croak. Damn it. Come on, talk for god’s sake! “The… others…” she managed, her voice hoarse, sounding unlike her own. “Need… to… warn them… a… doll. They… need… to…” Her body gave out as her exhaustion took over; she couldn’t finish what she wanted to say as everything began to grow dark. As everything faded, dragging her unwillingly into the depths of unconsciousness.
The last thing she heard was Toya calling out her name.
Her first name.
“Taryn!”