The Dollmaker's Son | lrh ✔️

Four

The 31st of October rolled around much quicker than I thought it would, and I was getting ready to take Corey out for the night.

Like every other six year old in Presley Grove, Corey was excited. I couldn't say the same for myself- I was stuck with a bedsheet as a costume just to bring him around the town- but I stayed optimistic all the same.

He wore a faded army uniform, complete with two stripes of face paint drawn down both of his cheeks. He looked adorable; even more so when he tugged on the corner of my crappy costume to leave the house.

"You kids be careful, now." our mother said, kissing our foreheads.

Then she watched us trudge down the road, waiting to close the door with a bowl of candy in hand for the other trick or treaters.

Halloween was a treasured holiday in Presley. It was the one night where kids could be whatever they pleased, and the thought was somewhat comforting; we passed a ballerina, and another soldier dressed in camo, and even an astronaut holding hands with a little girl in a pink gown wearing rainbow contacts.

I loved Halloween, even though I didn't dress up myself.

Corey and I got to about twenty houses that night, before fatigue took him over and we had to trudge back home. Not without a quick visit to the Hemmings household, however; I told Corey that we should save the best for last.

The Hemmings seemed to go all out for Halloween. Since the parents were dollmakers, I could see how they used their skill to their advantage.

Dolls lined the windowsill, all kinds of them, in neat rows on every side of the house; porcelain, China, Victorian, rag. Each one had straw hair combed to neat perfection, with glinting eyes reflecting shadows and silouhettes in the moonlight; if I hadn't seen Luke's mother that same morning putting them up, I would have stayed well away.

Corey and I walked up the path. We knocked on the door, and I was ready to throw my arms around Luke in a hug when his father answered instead.

He had a bowl in his hand, of little colourful hard boiled sweets wrapped in translucent plastic. It wasn't hard to tell that they were homemade.

Even from where I was standing- which was behind Corey- I could smell the fruity scent with no problem.

"Hello, Sophie," Mr Hemmings smiled, his deep voice resonating through the air.

Although the entire town was alive and in the spirit of Halloween, the dolls that sat on the porch made it hard for me to believe so.

"Trick or Treat!" Corey yelled, jostling his orange pumpkin bag, grinning from ear to ear.

I gave Mr Hemmings an apologetic look, wanting to tell him that I was sorry for Corey's persistence, but not knowing how to.

The older man just chuckled, scooped up a handful of colourful candy, and dropped it into the tote.

"Happy Halloween, you two," he said, his tone now smooth. "Stay safe tonight."

"You too, Mr Hemmings." I replied, a little confused, though like most things, I didn't press on.

Corey and I began to walk back down the porch steps, the disappointment on my face evident. I was looking forward to seeing Luke that night, and I was utterly convinced that I'd have to wait until the morning- that is, until I looked up.

Behind a doll-strewn windowsill stood the boy himself, his eyebrows furrowed together in a glare.

But he wasn't glaring at me, or at Corey.

He was glaring at Mr Hemmings, who clutched the bowl of candy like he was holding on for dear life.

He was glaring at his father, who I saw turn around, who looked up at Luke's bedroom and shook his head, very tensely.

My walking slowed as I watched the silent exchange. I saw Luke's jaw lock. I saw his eyes flicker to me. I saw the panic flit across his face, even if it was just for a split second.

Then I saw his father raise a calloused hand up to his mouth; making the eery gesture of zipping his lips before finally, with slow steps, disappearing back into the household.