𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭

𝟐. 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

I am a no one in the light and everything in the darkness. I am the one who made children fear darkness. Run from it. Hide from it.

I'm the dybbuk.

Deformed and deranged myself but creator and appreciator of beauty from within.

But the only beauty I see is in making dolls.

I searched for my life dolls. Found none. Making dolls without life was bland. Mundane. And to no avail. It was tedious and unnecessarily pointless.

It was all until I saw them. The perfect dolls.

One with shiny golden hair, porcelain skin, baby blue eyes with a pink sparkling butterflies and a tulle. My sun doll.

The other with lush dark brown hair that glowed under the light, porcelain skin, forest green eyes. She wore a beautiful baby blue tulle and blue ribbons in her hair. A gentle and innocent smile on her face. My moon doll.

I loved both my dolls. But I loved my moon doll more. She was made for me. She was the gentleness to my rough. She was the joy to my mundane.

She was the only one who is mine.

I had never known that to find my dolls I had to look so closely around the people who surround me. I loved my dolls as much I hated their parents.

They were my creations. I would not let anyone else take that from me. I will shape them to be my perfect dolls.

My sun doll had always been pretty and charming and exactly like every other doll. Slowly making me loose interest in her. But my moon doll.

She stopped smiling. She stopped being innocent. She glowed with darkness. And it drew me even more towards her. She aged like fine wine. She needed to be fixed. And I will fix her.

I looked at her when she thought no one was looking. She had a devious mind. Her evil glowed in her eyes when she was awake. The need to be chaos reflected in them. But innocence returned every time she fell asleep.

No one would ever get her like I do.

She was my doll. My creation. My masterpiece.

There however was one thing that annoyed me very greatly. It was her over obsessive nature towards a boy who was not even worth mentioning.

She was walking away from with time. I will not allow that.

She was my doll.
Mine to hold.
Mine to control.
Mine to suppress.
Mine to teach.

And I will teach her to be my doll.

I look at her sleeping on her cushioned bed. The blanket falling. Her sleeping figure looking both ethereal and pristine.

Ariella Nash

My lovely lovely moon.
You will not run.
Neither will you hide.
Not will you beg.

And that is exactly what I don't want you to do.

I want you to run.
I want you to hide.
I want you to beg.

By the time I have you in my hold. You will learn how to please me. How to be what I want you to be.

You my doll... will meet your maker.