Mrs. Moon looked forward to watching church service on TV every Sunday morning. Not only because she was a faithful follower, but because the priest reminded her of her late husband. That, and the fact that one of the altar boys was the spitting image of her son. Watching the service brought back memories of the days when they all prepared for church, as a family. She’d fuss over Mr. Moon's crooked tie and smooth out little Dae-seong's hair, especially that stubborn little sprig of a cowlick.
But those days were long ago, more of a dream now than a memory. She tried to cling onto the fleeting remnants of these moments as the sunlight seeped through the blinds and nudged her awake.
She threw the blanket aside and pushed herself up from the bed. At 70, she was still as strong as someone half her age, though she had slowed down considerably. Now, on an average day, she needed an extra 20 minutes to get ready. Just because the service was on TV didn’t mean she could attend in her nightgown. That was no excuse. Even if the priest couldn’t see her, the good Lord could. Also, what would Polly and the other gals think if they saw her attending mass in a nightgown? What an embarrassment that’d be!
Mrs. Moon put on her usual Sunday outfit—a plain turquoise dress with a diamond-studded flower brooch pinned above the left breast. As she took in the morning’s sunlight, she made her way downstairs at a leisurely pace. First things first, she strode over to the closet in the living room. Gently, one by one, she brought out Polly and the three other ladies: Molly, Holly, and Dolly. They were about her height and, luckily, light as a feather to carry over to the four-person couch. When her husband had long passed and her son had long ago settled across the country in California, she took up knitting as a hobby.
Polly was the first doll she knitted and was meant to be a birthday gift for her granddaughter, but an angel had swept the child away to heaven days before her 10th birthday. Mrs. Moon had sent Polly to her grieving son and his wife in the hope it would console them. She was distraught to find it returned to her address with an apologetic, though slightly angry, note explaining that the doll’s uncanny likeness to the dead girl was too upsetting to have around the house.
Once the ladies were settled, Mrs. Moon took her usual place on the sofa chair right beside the telephone in case Dae-seong called. She wanted to easily reach the phone without needing to get up and hurry. She’d fallen once in the past. The phone had rang, and, on the way, she lost her balance and bumped her shin on the edge of the coffee table.
It was a horrible, painful night in the ER. A night when terrible, mean people tried to stick her with needles and strings like they were trying to turn her into some kind of marionette. And, not to mention, the suffering she had endured was all for nothing! The caller had been a telemarketer—a complete nobody! Who did he think he was, interrupting her special time to ask if she’d like to renew her subscription to Smiley Companions, a bi-annual magazine specializing in dolls, puppets, and porcelain figurines? The man mistook her groan for a ‘yes’ as she came around from the fall. It had left her shaken, confused, and smeared with blood on one side of her face.
The moment she returned home after being discharged, she canceled her subscription.
Polly didn’t mind giving up her spot on the sofa chair. After all, it made more sense for Mrs. Moon to be seated there by the phone. There she could be quick to answer when her son called. Whenever that may be.
She switched on the TV and grinned as Father Brown appeared on the screen, marching down the aisle with the altar boys as they held up the cross and the holy book. She glanced over at the ladies and told them about the days that Dae-seong served as an altar boy, and she told them about that one time when Mr. Moon gave a sermon that earned him a standing ovation. As Father Brown approached the podium and began to recite the opening prayer, the doorbell rang, and three quick knocks sounded at the door.
Mrs. Moon grumbled. “Go away!” She didn’t want any visitors at all. Not on Sunday.
But she heard the jangle of keys and the squeak of the doorknob turning. And then, a voice called out, “Eomma?”
Mrs. Moon hoisted herself up, heart pounding with happiness.
Dae-seong!
She hustled to the entrance hall, scolding herself for not tidying up the house or preparing any meal for such a long-awaited honorary guest. By God, she didn’t even have a snack ready.
But the instant she saw the woman closing the front door, Mrs. Moon’s heart sank. She had forgotten that she had another child. An unmarried middle-aged daughter. Eunji.
Mrs. Moon always wondered why Eunji preferred to chase after a job in the city rather than settle down with a nice man. One who’d provide modern comforts for the family, and perhaps even birth a grandchild.
Seeing the disappointed look on the old woman’s face, Eunji frowned. “I’m glad to see you, too,” she said in a flat tone tinged with bitter sarcasm.
Mrs. Moon waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be like that. You know I’m always happy to have you around.”
Eunji sighed as she kicked off her shoes and brought in the package she had found by the front door. It was a rectangular box wrapped in plain brown paper. Taped to the bottom left corner was an envelope addressed to Mrs. Moon. When her daughter placed the package on the dining table, Mrs. Moon looked at it curiously, detaching the envelope and unsealing its lips with a letter opener.
“I don’t have my reading glasses on me,” she said, handing the letter over to her daughter. “What does it say?”
“Dear Mrs. Moon,” Eunji started to read, “we miss having you as our loyal customer. We hope you will re-subscribe to us. To show our appreciation for your patronage, we have gifted you this special doll. Sincerely yours, Smiley Companions.”
With excited, nimble fingers, Mrs. Moon tore away at the wrapping paper, and her eyes lit up with glee as she laid her sight upon a doll in a see-through box. There, carved meticulously out of wood, was a red-painted figurine with a large head and flared nostrils; it flashed its jagged crooked white marble teeth in a mischievous grin.
She released it from its confinement and held it in her hands. Her reflection shined in its bulging, obsidian eyes.
“Why would they send you such an ugly thing?” asked Eunji, making a disgusted face.
“Ugly?” Mrs. Moon was taken aback. “I think it’s beautifully crafted. It’s a…”
Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right word in the old, dusty trove of memories of her childhood in Korea. Then it struck her.
“A dokkaebi!”
“A what?”
“A dokkaebi. It’s sort of a mischievous creature,” Mrs. Moon explained. “In the village where I grew up, all the kids believed that a dokkaebi lived in the woods, so no one dared to venture in after dark.”
“What happens when someone does go in?”
“They say that the dokkaebi will snatch you up and eat you! But I’ve mostly heard that this creature is harmless, and only likes to play tricks on people.”
Eunji shook her head and mumbled, “It’s still an ugly doll!” And so, she went on to clean around the house as she always did on her visits. There was no one else to help her mother.
Pleased with the gift, Mrs. Moon placed her strange new companion on the middle shelf of a glass cabinet. This was where she kept all her little porcelain figurines of animals as well as a picture-perfect replica of her childhood village. On the top shelf, she kept her two most cherished dolls. They too were carved out of wood and painted with details to resemble her son and late husband. Even strands of their real hair were plugged into their heads.
“When do you think Dae-seong will come for a visit?” she asked Eunji, who was busy dusting behind another cabinet filled with even more knitted and wooden dolls and porcelain figurines.
Eunji paused. Her brows furrowed. “Eomma…” she said, cautiously. “I thought we talked about this before.”
“We talked about what? Just tell him to come visit soon!” Mrs. Moon licked a finger, reached up, and tried to smooth out her son’s stubborn cowlick.
*****
Since the dokkaebi’s arrival, Mrs. Moon noticed peculiar occurrences around the house. When she walked into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea one morning, she found all of her drawers, as well as the cabinet and refrigerator doors, open. Then, in the living room, she had switched on the TV to tune into the rerun of last Sunday’s service when it suddenly switched off. She turned up the volume, but it went mute in reaction. Then the channel changed without her pressing a button. Almost as though it was mocking her.
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She grabbed the remote and fought for control over her television. She pressed the ‘channel’ button furiously until the old machine started to smoke. It spewed sparks as the screen cracked and broke into pieces. Tiny shards of glass and plastic erupted and littered the floor. Luckily, she was left unharmed. Although she was upset about her TV.
These strange occurrences couldn’t be because of some silly doll, she thought. But that all changed one evening. As she performed her nightly ritual of arranging the gals around the dinner table, she was struck by a sight that left her aghast. The dokkaebi doll sat at the head of the table where Mr. Moon used to sit as head of the family.
She was certain she hadn’t taken the doll out of the cabinet. Nor, of course, had she placed it at the table herself. With apprehension, she looked to her little friends. “What an oddball to just invite himself!” she told them. But she carried on with supper. Throughout the hour, as she chatted about her day to the ladies, the dokkaebi’s bulging black orbs fixated upon her. And whenever she glanced back at it, she swore that its grin grew wider.
After washing the dishes and silverware, she invited the ladies for a sleepover in her room. This was a rare occasion, and the ladies buzzed with excitement.
“Ladies only,” she told the dokkaebi firmly.
She took the dolls, two at a time, up to the room. She told them how nervous that new doll made her feel. She needed their company in case the dokkaebi did something funny. And of course, her friends understood. They guarded her back as she readied herself for bed.
She placed Polly and Molly on the right side of the bed and Holly and Dolly on the other side of her. Only then could she settle herself soundly in the middle. Once she shut her eyes, she was fast asleep.
Mrs. Moon loved sleeping. For her it was like stepping into a time machine. It sent her back to moments she longed to relive. Tonight, she went back to the time when she and Mr. Moon finally managed to scrounge up enough money to fly the family out on a summer vacation to Korea. Dae-seong's daughter was only seven at the time, and it was Eunji and Dae-seong’s first visit to their parents’ home country. They’d been excited to explore the many shops at the hanok village.
Mr. and Mrs. Moon were surprised to see how much their hometown had changed over the years; it was nearly unrecognizable to them. The hanok village was once a dilapidated wreck, with its one-story buildings looking forlorn and weather-beaten. She remembered the cracked and discolored tiles of their rooftops. Back in those days the streets were nothing but dirt paths and grimy cobblestones. But now, crowds of people wandered around on smooth pavement. They perused bright new tourist shops, dined at restaurants, and lounged in cafes.
The Moon family went into one of the shops and had a look around. The women browsed through the shelves of embroidered purses while Dae-seong's little girl was drawn to the handcrafted wooden toys. But when Mrs. Moon decided that she wanted to leave, her stomach dropped as she saw the dokkaebi doll in her granddaughter's arms.
She jolted awake in the dark.
Both sides of the bed were empty. Polly and the gals were gone!
“It can’t be possible...” she thought as she sat up and rubbed the slumber from her eyes.
Perhaps they’d fallen to the floor. She did tend to toss and turn throughout the night.
Just as she peered over the edge of the bed, she froze. Her eyes met the black buttoned eyes of Polly, who stood straight up beside the bed. The black, beady little eyes of Molly, Holly, and Dolly also met hers. A chill crept down her spine as a deluge of prying glances encircled her. But what perplexed her most of all was how they stood on their own. Polly and Molly on the right, and Holly and Dolly on the left. Those smiles, which had offered warmth and comfort just hours ago, now felt alien and uncanny.
She pressed her back against the headboard and drew the blankets closer. But even then, she sensed a presence that no blanket could shelter her from. As she surveyed the abyssal darkness of the room, her entire soul nearly leapt out of her body. There, squatting at the foot of her bed, was a figure the size of a grown man. A sliver of moonlight illuminated its red face, except for its eyes. No, not its eyes. For they were like two black holes where light went to die. The horns on its head were as long and pointed as the horns of a bull.
“What do you want?” she demanded, finally finding her voice through tremors of fear.
She jerked back as the beast crawled on all fours towards her. Saliva dripped from rows of jagged, pointed teeth onto her fresh, clean quilt.
With a wide, unwavering grin, it spoke to her. Its slick, oily voice reverberated inside her head.
“To be your forever friend. And for you to be my forever friend.”
“W-why?” she squeaked.
“How lonely you must be in this great big house!”
“Well, I get on just fine without a forever friend.” She looked at Polly and the gals, who smiled and nodded their heads.
“How sad you feel, longing for the family you once had.”
“I—I…” She faltered. It was true. There was indeed a sadness in her life. One that she hid from. A feeling that followed her around like a shadow everywhere she went.
“There is someone you sorely miss.”
She nodded.
“Someone you wish to see again.”
The dokkaebi snapped its fingers and vanished quicker than the blink of an eye. But Polly and the ladies remained at her side. Mrs. Moon clutched her quilt and blanket.
“I’m a little cold,” she told the dolls, tightening her grip on the blanket as they tugged at it. “Please—” she stopped abruptly.
With her pulse racing, she strained her ears and held her breath. In her heightened state, she could have sworn she heard someone call out to her from downstairs in the living room. But that made no sense. Not at this hour.
“Eomma!”
There it was again! That familiar tenor and timbre made her heart soar! She threw off the covers and raced out of bed before hastily grabbing her slippers. Her entire body trembled.
“Could it be… could it be…” she said to herself, voice quivering and heart pounding.
With Holly and Dolly holding her steady by the arms, she shuffled out of the bedroom and descended the staircase, step by step. And when she finally reached the landing, she nearly crumpled to the floor in tears as she saw an all-too-familiar figure. His back faced her as he stood by the window. But she knew exactly who it was.
“Dae-seong!” she cried.
“Eomma, I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
Composing herself, she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Nothing to be sorry for! You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”
She took a step forward, wanting to see him up close and cup his cheek in her hands. It had been so long. Too long…
“And I’m sorry for what I did,” he went on. “I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”
“Oh, son, don’t be sorry! Sorry for what?”
“Sorry…sorry…I…”
As she was about to take another step, she paused when a tiny glimmer caught her eye. A gentle stream of moonlight illuminated nine long, silvery threads, thin and light as a spider’s web. Each and every one led to Dae-seong. They attached themselves to each leg and arm, his shoulders and ears, and there was one final string protruding from the base of his spine. They all stretched up to the ceiling, where the grinning dokkaebi floated with the strings tied to its fingers. As it pulled on the strings, Dae-seong turned around on command. His face remained obscured by the dark.
“Eomma,” he said, “don’t you remember what happened to me and my little family? Don’t you remember the day when Eunji called you?”
Mrs. Moon’s stomach twisted. She shut her eyes and stuck her fingers in her ears.
No, no, no!
But Dae-seong’s voice spoke inside her head.
“My little girl was swept away by the currents.”
“No, no, no!”
“Her body lost forever in the sea.”
“No, no, no!”
“I couldn’t save her, and I couldn’t forgive myself. And then my wife, whose heart was so broken, followed our girl.”
“Stop, stop, stop!”
“And later, alone at home, I decided to follow them.”
“STOP IT! NO MORE! NO MORE!”
Mrs. Moon screamed until she spent every breath in her lungs. After a moment, she opened her eyes. It was a regrettable decision.
Her heart stopped.
She felt sick.
Dae-seong’s limp body gently swung in the air from a beam with a rope tied around his neck.
With the quick snap of its fingers, the dokkaebi made the body disappear. The beast jumped down from the ceiling and squatted in front of Mrs. Moon, peering up at her tear-streaked face.
“Would you like to see him again?” it asked.
She nodded. “Yes, please, I do.”
“Be my forever friend, and you will be with him. You will never be lonely again.”
After wiping the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her nightgown, she gazed into the dokkaebi’s black eyes. And, in them, she saw herself fixing Mr. Moon’s crooked tie and smoothing out Dae-seong’s little sprig of a cowlick as the family got ready for Sunday church.
*****
Eunji pulled into her mother’s driveway and parked the car. She unfastened her seatbelt but didn’t get out right away. First, she needed a smoke. Something to loosen up the anxiety that had built up during the long drive to the countryside. She loved her mom, but these visits weren’t easy.
She had tried to convince her to sell the house and move into the condo with her, but the old woman simply would not have it.
“This is our home!” her mom had said, “And it was built by your appa’s hands with love. You’d have to get the whole damned military to pry me out of here!”
When Eunji hired a caretaker, her mom was livid. She hated strangers in the house. And so, armed with the kitchen broomstick, she chased the caretaker out to his car.
Thus, to Eunji, a smoke was needed. Yes, she had quit months ago, only to start again after her brother’s funeral. Goddamn, these visits weren’t easy.
She put out the cigarette in a tin can that she kept under the seat, sprayed herself with Febreze, and climbed out of the car. She knocked on the door a few times and waited a minute before opening it with the key.
Eomma's probably watching the Sunday service on loop, she thought. But when she went inside, the house stood eerily still.
“Eomma?” she called out.
No answer.
A looming sense of dread swelled within as she peeked into the living room. There she found the shattered remnants of the television.
“Eomma!” The tenor of her voice surged with greater force and confidence. Maybe she would have made a good parent after all, just as her mother always wanted.
Then, there it was…a sound in the dining room. Eunji sighed in relief, her muscles finally relaxing. She went straight towards the room to ask her mother about what had happened to the television. But this was not to be. As she opened her mouth to speak, she was assaulted by a sight that stopped her heart and sickened her stomach.
Her mother sat at the table with her back turned towards her. But what made her blood curl were the guests. Dae-seong sat to the left of their mother. At the other end was their father.
Eunji would give anything to see them alive again, but she knew in the pit of her gut that they were not her loved ones. They looked wooden. Their skin was painted and varnished. Their forced smiles stretched unnaturally and painfully across their faces, as if held up by wiring inside their mouths. And then there were the eyes. Bulging and black. They stared back, void of emotion.
“Oh, you’re just in time for lunch!” said Mrs. Moon, cheerfully, getting up from the table with several spider-like threads rising from her limbs.
Eunji’s eyes followed the length of the threads to the ceiling. And there, affixed to the top left corner, she saw the grinning dokkaebi. It peered down at her, as if to beckon.