Case Of The Living Doll ❦ Undertaker

2 | Little Dolly

A bell sounded as the Undertaker excitedly ran into his shop, a single hairpin in his hand. As usual, all was quiet in the funeral home, although it wasn't just any silence: it was eerier. As expected of a place that had nothing but coffins filling up space; not a thing stirred, and all seemed to be almost normal. That was until your eyes would come to rest on one thing that stood out.

The lifelike doll.

Just like she was the day before, she was still sitting on the same coffin and hadn't budged an inch. Not that she could, even if she desired to. Undertaker being Undertaker didn't feel the need to move her. He wanted to leave her out in the open for everyone to see. Seeing their reactions would be interesting indeed, and hilarious. The silver-haired man liked a good joke, after all.

After taking off his outdoor jacket, he sat next to the doll and turned to face her. She was a sight to behold. Porcelain skin, (e/c) eyes that anyone could get lost in, and small lips that seemed almost tempting.

"Oh little dolly, you're just as beautiful today as you were yesterday." He laughed into his sleeve and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with the other hand.

He lifted the hairpin that he had set down just before taking off his jacket and turned her slightly so he could braid her hair. After putting it in a bun, he held it in place with the hairpin. The hairpin was just as beautiful as the girl it now belonged to. Small black roses were intricately woven around the red stone. It matched her (h/c) hair perfectly.

"I was right. It suits you." He chuckled and didn't fail to spot the blush that had risen to her cheeks.

Now he was sure that she wasn't just an ordinary doll. Not that anyone would describe this girl as ordinary, mind you. This girl was human or had once been one.

Just how and why had she become a doll? The Undertaker was just itching to find out, and that was exactly what he was going to do now.

He rose to his feet and gathered up the 'doll' bridal style, then he carried her to his desk. Then he gently settled her down on top of it and preceded to take out his death scythe. All he had to do was make the tiniest of cuts. Not enough to accidentally send her soul to the afterlife, though.

For anyone else, it might've been an impossible feat, but seeing as he owned a funeral home, it wouldn't be too challenging for the Undertaker.

He lifted his death scythe and brought it down on her.

That was when something quite like film reels shot out of her body, weaving themselves around Undertaker and filling his vision with nothing but her memories.

Memories of what had happened to her.