The Bouquet

Chapter 1

In the corner of your grandmother's parlor stood a china cabinet full of ornate porcelain dolls. As a child you would beg her to play with them, to change their satin outfits and brush their silky ringlets. But she never permitted you to. She always told you they were collector's items, one of a kind and not meant to be played with by children. And at the time you thought she was being mean because to you dolls were meant for children, not old ladies who refused to take them out of the case lest they be exposed to the dry air and dust.

As an adult, you were glad she never let you touch them. The dolls were beautiful, but so beautiful it was eerie. Their large blue eyes framed by long lashes and paper white skin was unsettling. They were far too perfect, so much so it bothered you that something so lifeless could imitate the human form. If anything, they reminded you of corpses, made to look alive but were so obviously empty.

But your grandmother loved the creepy little things, and you loved her. So there you stood, bag slung over your tense shoulder as you stared into the window of the old shop she frequented when you were younger. The wood was cracked and in desperate need of a paint job, the windows seemed foggy like a thin layer of dust had settled over them. Was the shop even still in business? With only one way to find out your hand grasped the knob of the forest green door and jerked it open, causing the little bell on top of the door to ring as you stepped foot onto the creaky floorboards.

Contrary to the outside, the interior of the shop was impeccable. There wasn't a speck of dust in sight, which was to be expected with the amount of dolls that lined the walls and crowded the shop. You hesitantly edged your way further into the shop, scanning the rows upon rows of porcelain dolls. Among the sea of porcelain, there was not another person in sight. You listened hard, attempting to find any signs of another person. All you could hear was the soft song playing on the record player and the tapping of the light rain against the window panes. It felt like you had slipped into a little corner of the universe like you were the only person that knew of the little shop.

You delved further into the shop, weaving your way through stacks of doll clothes and porcelain figures, shuddering as you saw some of the lone doll limbs hanging from the ceiling. Doll making was a curious craft and could evidently be nightmare fuel. You edged your way around the hanging pieces and made your way to the back of the store. Whenever your grandmother visited, she only chose the dolls from the back room. She always said the best ones were hidden in the back, that they were too special to be seen by others. You stepped over the little wood step that dropped down into the back room and hiked your bag higher over your shoulder.

The room smelled musty, almost like a basement. The smell seemed out of place considering how pristine the room was. There was no dust and no clutter, just a small table displaying the little china dolls. Each one was different from the other, some with dark hair, light hair, or unnatural hair. Some had normal colored eyes, others bright eyes, and even one with heterochromia. Not one doll looked alike, each one was truly its own piece of art. If only they didn't creep you out so much.

You stepped closer to the table, bringing your hand up to gently stroke the pale blue satin of one of the doll's dresses. The quality was outstanding and felt more expensive than anything you owned.

"Hi, can I help you?" A voice called out making you jump away from the table in surprise. Your hand fluttered in the air before coming to rest on your chest as you released a sigh of air.

"Oh, I gave you quite the scare didn't I?" He laughed. Your eyes had slipped shut as you tried to calm down.

The man called out to you causing your head to snap up in his direction. He looked vaguely familiar, there was a feeling in your head telling you you had definitely met him before.