The China Doll

Blair sat, bored, in the tiny shop as her mom searched for the things on her list. Blair's eyes roamed the shelves of the shop lazily, waiting to leave. Then something caught her eye: a small box laying on the shelf behind a toy car. The box was old and black with a shiny silver lock. The key for the box lay next to it, glinting in the small patch of sunlight that shone in from the window. Blair walked over and picked up the wooden box. The wood was rough and she winced when she ran her hands over the dusty lid. She took the key and put it in the lock, twisting until it popped open with a satisfying click. Lifting the lid, she laid eyes on a beautiful little china doll. Its face was hand-painted, with icy blue eyes and dark red lips. Its dark black hair was curled in perfect ringlets that fell just so around its face. The doll's dress was emerald green and it looked brand-new, except for one small stain. Blair was hypnotized by the doll and she instantly wanted it. She closed the box and locked it again, brushing more of the dust off the top as she did so. Why on earth is such a pretty doll locked up? And why is it dusty? she thought as she left to find her mom, box in hand.

Blair begged her mom to buy the doll and, to her surprise, her mom agreed. As they were checking out, the shop's owner gave them a few odd and very specific instructions. Every night, the doll had to be locked in the box and put in the basement. The basement door had to be shut and locked directly after that. The owner of the shop was adamant about this point, but he didn't give a reason for it.

Once they arrived home, Blair ran to her room and placed the box on the floor. She took the key out of her pocket, unlocked the box, and gingerly pulled the doll out. She studied the doll, deciding what to play with the delicate figure. She finally decided on playing house, a game she used to play with her mother. When Blair finished her game, she put the doll in the box and took it down to the basement. She shut the door, locked it, and went to have dinner. However, in her rush to go eat, she had forgotten to lock the box.

That night, at 3 in the morning, Blair woke up to the faint sound of singing. She brushed it off as the neighbors and turned over to try to fall back asleep. Before she could, she heard the lyrics of the song. The tune came floating up the stairs like the gentle melody of death.

"China doll, china doll. My box is unlocked." Blair heard footfalls in the basement. It's probably just someone trying to scare me, she thought to herself.

"China doll, china doll. I'm coming up the stairs." The house echoed with the sound of the wooden stairs being climbed. Blair rolled over and sat up in bed as quietly as she could.

"China doll, china doll. I'm unlocking the door." A small click resonated throughout the house.

"China doll, china doll. I'm opening the door," the voice sang as the door creaked open. By now Blair was terrified, but she couldn't bring herself to call out to her mom.

"China doll, china doll. I've got a knife." The voice sang this with glee and the sound echoed in Blair's mind. She got up and ran to her mom's room. She tried shaking her awake and telling her, but she brushed it off.

"It's fine, Blair! Go back to sleep." Her mom mumbled. She walked defeatedly back to her room and got back in bed. I'm sure Mom's right. It's just my imagination.

"China doll, china doll. I'm coming up the stairs." Blair froze. It's just my imagination. It's just my imagination. She repeated this mantra over and over, trying to trick her mind out of believing the song.

"China doll, china doll. I'm in your mom's room." She heard her mom mumble, gasp in pain, and then nothing.

"China doll, china doll. Your mom's dead," the voice sang out, evidently thrilled. Blair pulled the covers over her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

"China doll, china doll. I'm coming into your room." The door opened and a light shone on the bed. Blair squeezed her eyes even tighter and tried to avoid crying. A shadow fell over the bed.

"China doll, china doll. I'm here." A knife came down, a scream echoed, and the white sheets were stained with red blood.

"China doll, china doll. Now you're dead!" The gleeful voice rang out into the empty house.

The next morning, the house swarmed with police and reporters wondering what had happened. The only thing they could find was a knife by the bed and an open basement door. Meanwhile, in a small shop on the other side of town, a box lay on a shelf. The box was made of black wood with a shiny silver lock. And inside that box lay a doll, a china doll, a small smile on its tiny, perfect face.