I scrolled through Reddit. The front page was a haphazard mix of memes, videos, and personal subreddits. Say what you will, but this corona thing was hitting us all hard.

A few days in and I was optimistic. It would not be as bad as they had predicted.

A few weeks in and I had become concerned. The government wasn’t taking enough precautions, and the Governor was saying they would handle it. Though the man did not talk about any plans to step up enforcement for things like masks or staying apart.

A few months in and I was optimistic. We were all going to die, but at least I was going down the way I wanted to! In a clean house, and with my backlog of hobbies cleared.

Between losing my job and being forced to stay home, I found myself with a surplus of time. Too much nothing with so little hope for life. My days were blurring together.

So one day, I was staring at the large spread of job postings and their empty promises. Good pay! Significant Benefits! You just needed ten years of experience for the junior position!

Bah.

I was becoming even more bitter. Angry. Depressed.

So I did what I needed to get myself up and running. Cleaned the house. Old chores that I had neglected were all finished within days. Instead of the months of ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’.

During my cleanings, I found them. I marked them with a red sharpie and bold letterings. GunPla.

I grinned as I opened up old boxes. Inside was a collection of plastic models. Robot models. Gundam models.

I smiled as I stared at the colorful box covers. Big robots doing space battles. I started on the Anime when I was young. I started on the models shortly after discovering them.

Then I built a small army of the SD mini models. Large heads and tiny bodies. They were cute.

Then I moved onto the High Grade, simple and easy models. They were more complex, but not more difficult.

Master Grade was better. More complex and expensive. They also came with better details and the aftermarket for them was amazing.

I even had two Perfect Grade ones. Expensive beasts that would require great care. Even if I never built them, they were collector pieces since they had limited runs.

Then one day, I stopped building them. I had moved further away from hobby buddies, got a soul-sucking job, and struggled to stay above the paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle.

Now? As I stared at the Real Grade 04. The MS-06F Zaku II. All in a shiny fresh box.

A top-end product of the low-end lines. High Grade was entry-level. Real Grade was a delightful mix of the entry and intermediate levels. Small and pretty.

I stared at it. I knew what it was… but when did I even buy this?

Besides the fresh boxes was a simple metal box. Inside would be my tools. Nippers to clip the plastic. Metal files to shave down plastic bits. X-Acto knives to carve out other bits.

It all came back to me.

I assembled the robot in short order. I did a dry assembly. You gently connected pieces but didn’t force them to clip together. You just needed to see how it fit and where you messed up.

Even without an extra coat of paint, it looked good. The giant green robot sat on my desk. 1/144 scale, but with a lot of prominent parts. An internal skeleton found with Master Grade and detailed parts like the Perfect Grade.

They impressed me. This Real Grade was top notch and not a gimmick as I had feared.

All I needed to finish was to paint this bad boy. The paint that was… in the Attic?

I had to place a few hobby boxes up there when my sister came to visit. A quick air-mattress later and she stayed in my second bedroom for a few weeks when she visited me and the city. It was fun, and we had a great time.

I left the boxes as I was too busy.

I stared at the dark world outside. Didn’t I start this at noon? It was now ten at night!?

My stomach complained.

Right. Food. Then sleep.

I could set up the spray painting booth tomorrow.

—

The dolls were creepy. The glass eyes felt like they were staring at me. A dozen dolls were always facing the entryway.

I muttered to myself as I moved the boxes back downstairs. I even had room to unpack them now. Ordering bookshelves was a bit of a risk since I couldn’t see them in person, but it came out great as I set them up last week.

Which allowed me to expand my showcase of books and other knickknacks.

I grabbed the last box, which was my spray paint booth. The simple cardboard box with the air-duct taped to the side. It would allow me to paint indoors and throw the fumes outside.

I felt a chill go down my back as I turned to see the dolls once more.

They were beautiful once. Probably showpieces during their heyday. Now they were ragged and worn. The paint had chipped away, and a few were missing their eyes.

I put down the box and made my way over to them.

They cursed this house. These dolls resulted from a time during The Witch Trials. Old legends said that we murdered give children in two years. Then the dolls appeared and stuck around. Regardless of what you did.

Tear down the house? No dolls. Build a house close enough? Dolls.

Throw away the dolls? Bad luck as they vanished your belongings, or broke them. The dolls would then return.

I stared at the dolls. The craftsmanship was good. I figured they were all porcelain as they hadn’t degraded after all this time. They could have been a joke from the previous owner. Though their haunted looks seemed genuine, as was the discount on the house itself.

Stolen story; please report.

I didn’t mess with the dolls, and the house didn’t mess with me…

Yet as I stared, I saw how time had been cruel to these beautiful models. Porcelain models.

I tilted my head as I picked one up and made my way down with it. My booth in one arm, and the doll in the other.

It didn’t help that I felt the hairs on my neck rise as I left the attic.

—

Alright. They haunted the house. I am now a firm believer in ghosts.

Ever since I had taken the first doll down, I saw them. Sorta. One of five girls that would stay just out of direct sight. My peripherals could only glimpse at them.

They often shifted my own items around. Models I had left facing one way would face another. Though nothing had been damaged yet.

Probably a warning. They were going to be less than pleased if I fucked this up.

In my hands was the naked body of a porcelain doll. The craftsmanship was truly awe-inspiring. It connected to a stand via wooden pegs. Brittle wooden pegs. I had to find new ones, but luckily Ikea had the near-perfect size. I had to sand them down a bit, but better slightly too big than too small.

A delicate, yet balanced model sat on my worktable. The doll reminded me of those resin garage kits you could get. Pricey, limited edition, nightmares that you had to assemble and paint.

Not all that different from robots, to be honest. Wait… what happened to my garage kits? Didn’t I sell them? Didn’t I keep three? Where were they?

I hummed as I added painter’s tape. I cut them into tiny, tiny squares and I plastered them across the hairline, eyes, mouth. I didn’t want to pain these as I had another idea.

An hour of taping later, I could turn on my spray paint machine. The small motor chugged to life and puttered as the air compressor came back to life. I had already done a test run on plastic spoons.

Years of dormancy could cause serious issues. So I was careful. I didn’t want to get haunted by angry spirits.

The doll was now a perfect white tone as I had scraped off all the old paint. It was a thick, crumbling mess when I had undressed the doll. Its tiny clothes were also frayed and came apart in my hands. The spirits were less than pleased when stuff started breaking.

I am convinced this was real hair. I was gentle as I tied the blond hair up with two twisty ties. I then used a plastic bag to protect it. Chunks of the old paint were gritty, and I didn’t want to stain the hair with color.

My actions seemed evil. I could feel the fury of the spirits as I did so. Scraping off the flesh and cutting apart the dress. They probably didn’t understand what I was doing. So I talked to them.

I told them what I was doing, and why. I couldn’t leave those dolls like that. Besides, I had nothing better to do.

It worked as I could feel the animosity fade, but not vanish. They wouldn’t get convinced until I proved my worth as an ‘artist’. I giggled. I wasn’t starving yet, but this would not make me famous either.

“This is going to look great,” I smiled as I stared at the small plastic container. It had the first of three pale flesh tones. I took my time to ensure as even as I could get it. It wouldn’t be perfect, but since when did humans have perfectly even skin tone?

Each coat got a little darker, but the uneven spray came out fairly nicely. No major blemishes.

I turned off the spray painter and stretched as I stood up. Time to let this dry.

I moved the doll over to my new display case. Her naked glory was now on display. Tomorrow I would remove the tape and use a brush to fill in any gaps of paint.

The animosity I felt from before vanished. In its place, I felt an odd sense of curiosity and excitement.

Painting techniques for display pieces had come a long way since they made this doll. Better color and an array of options. Not to mention the new age spray painting. Granting the doll with new life and an even coat of paint.

The spirits were probably in awe at how lifelike it already looked… and I was still on the first step!

A chuckled as wondered what they would be like when I finished this doll.

—

I had several plastic cups before me. They were clean takeout containers for sauces. Small, tiny things. They were perfect for ink and other staining agents.

A very pale pastel chalk shavings. I even crushed them into a fine powder.

Using a small brush, I started with the light pink. With each stroke over the doll’s lips, they became full and pronounced. I concentrated on the inner parts to give it a deep tone but left the edges with the lightest brushes I could do. Hints of color to blend it in.

Using the same pink, I brushed as the cheeks. Dusting it with a lovely tone of color. Hints of either innocence or vitality. Right? I wasn’t always sure about how color and mysticisms worked out, but I couldn’t complain about the results.

Around the eyes, I took a darker mix of pink and purple. Highlights that I added to the skin around the eyes. I added new eyelashes. Modern styles with thick, long strands.

I used a deep brown to recreate the eyebrows. I then dusted with the same pink and purple mix.

Then I would have to seal it all with a matte spray and wait for my Etsy order to arrive. A nice set of clothes based on Victorian styles, but with a modern twist. It was a fluffy, layered dress that came with a hoodie.

Etsy was amazing as I could get or order large amounts of apparel and accessories. The downside was that these wonderful items were as pricey as hell. Though if they looked as good as promised… I might have to give up mini giant robots for mini Victorian girls.

Though having to redo the eyes was a pain in my ass. The tiny glass beads would not stay still! Though redoing it allowed me to give the doll more pronounced eyes.

My love of anime and manga had ruined me. I needed to have soulful eyes!

—

The spirits hungered as they hovered around me. I could feel them. It was odd as their joy-filled up the room like a heater gave out the heat.

I could taste their happiness.

Alice, as I dubbed her, had a fine dress. The soft pink and white frills covered her body to the thighs. She had simple pastel pink shoes, mini converse. A tiny light purple purse, shaped like a penguin.

She had her hoodie up. A small clip tied her hair together as it spilled over her left shoulder. A set of headphones rested around her neck.

The pink and purple nails were an uneven mix of the two colors, popping out as her pose showcased her hands.

I closed the display case and sighed. Done.

It had taken a day to scrape off the old stuff, and a week to redo everything. It was worth it. Alice was a beautiful showpiece.

I stretched and felt several things in my back pop. The work was grueling.

It always way. Didn’t someone say hobbies were the right to waste time and money in large quantities? Well, they were right. I had spent way more on this one doll than four of my Real Grade boxes.

I smiled though, as I looked at my showpiece. For the rest of my day, I often stopped to admire Alice.

It was probably my best work, and I took several photos of the doll. My simple art page was gaining a cult following. It was exploding with popularity! 30 followers!

I was on cloud nine for the entire day. The hard work had paid off, and the spirits were now thrilled.

That night, I slept like a blessed man.

Good dreams full of laughter and Alice was there serving me tea. Though she didn’t say a word, five other voices filled in her lines.

—

The smell of coffee woke me up.

I went through my morning rituals on autopilot until I hit the kitchen. Reality poked me in the nose.

I didn’t own a coffee maker.

I had a simple strainer, and there on my counter was my morning coffee.

Vietnamese style. Hot coffee poured into condensed milk. Stirred and then poured onto ice.

The dense brown color was like a siren’s call. I drank it with the relish of an addict.

It was two spoons worth of condensed milk. Exactly the way I loved it.

“Thanks, girls!” I said as I made my way to my computer. No need to be rude.

I should check my morning mail and grab my cell phone. I had to leave it there, away from me, or else I would stay up all night on Reddit or read fanfiction all night.

I felt something tug at my shirt as I passed my display cases in the living room. There, below Alice, were three more dolls. They were all in a state of disrepair.

Odd, there were five girls, right? Why was there only four… oh?

“You have got to be kidding me,” I whispered as I stared at it.

I looked at my work table and my ‘chosen’ doll was already out. The chemicals to soften the old paint, and they already laid out the tools to scrape it off.

The doll was like Alice. Porcelain, but this one was sitting on a rock that looked rotten. Probably old paint on more porcelain.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light. Or it was because they were eager. I saw them.

Five girls staring at me as three sat on the table and two on my chair. They were giving me puppy dog eyes. Then they were gone again.

“Look,” I began as I took a sip. “Food first, work later.”

I drank in my coffee. The cold, yet sweet taste flooded my senses. I stared at the doll.

Alice was an innocent styled doll. Perhaps I should go with a more mature and seductive style this time?

I smiled as I made my way over to my computer. Okay, I could do a few minutes of Etsy first.

The five girls cheered and moved with me.