Voodoo Doll

Prologue

The world would be a better place, had she not existed. She was the cause of all the pain, yet no one seemed to understand that simple fact except for a certain few. 

The lights had been long fused out with the only source of light being a small, narrow beam which illuminated through a tiny crack in the wall. The cement bricks were long out of use and hadn't been repaired in thousands of years. It was the perfect place for secrecy.

The air was crisp and cold, yet that did not seem to bother the group of four who sat dead center, every inch of their bodies covered in cloaks. All that was left were their faces, but even those had been masked white with a lone black imprint from the forehead and across the nose.

"There's no need to worry my dears, the world will soon be cleansed of its impurities. We will make sure of it." the voice boomed. It was clear, from the overpowering authority that lurked in the depths of their voice, that he or she was the head of this cult.

The four sat in a circle around the pyre, as curses were muttered and ashes were thrown into the fire simultaneously. The room filled with smoke which soon began to circulate in the center, above their heads.

"Come, oh righteous being. Give to me what has long been awaited. The time has come for us to rise! Vengeance is upon us. No one shall dare to intervene, not after all the hard work that has been put into this. Hail to thee. Better yet, hail to me!"

As the smoke gathered into a sphere, the figure reached up into the haze wrenching on it until it gave way.

"Let go," the voice continued, "Give me what I seek. Let this be the dawn of a new era for all of mankind, for they will bow down before me."

Soon the fog began to clear, and the figure stood as if to gain a tighter grip on the dark ball of smoke. After yanking a few moments longer, the fog gave way and the figure held tightly to a miniature doll.

The figure stroked its silky, black hair, admiring the beauty it held. From the strange tint of purple in its eyes to the high cheekbones, long legs, and perfect figure – something anyone would kill for.

Minutes passed in solitude, as if the doll and the figure were the only two left in the world, as if they shared some sort of bond that no one else could ever understand. Eventually the stroking halted to a stop, and the figure became aware of reality; the two could never be one. That much was clear. The air buzzed as the smoke swirled one final time before vanishing into thin air.

The figure dusted off their cloak and made their way to the far end of the room. There lay a wooden chest covered in webs, untouched for the past seven years. A key was pulled out from beneath the cloak and the chest was opened, ever so slowly.

With one last look at the beautiful girl in its hand, the doll was locked away for good. Never to be seen again.