The Doll

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I used to think of myself as a major doll collector. Dolls from all around the world decorated every room of my house. My friend, Michelle, was the biggest supporter of my collection, bringing me a new doll every time she came back from one of her many business trips. With her help, I practically had every kind of doll there was; handmade, machine made, porcelain, plastic, cloth, wooden, creepy, cute, large, or small, I had it.It wasn't until her most recent trip that I started to change my mind.

Michelle called me from New Orleans, super excited about the new doll she found for me. It was a few days before she was to return and she refused to give me even a hint about the new doll she had found. Her excitement and secrecy just helped to fuel my own.

When I finally received her call that her plane had landed and she was on her way over, my excitement rocketed up a few more notches. I couldn't stop pacing through my house the entire time. When I heard a car pulling into my driveway, I rushed out, not even checking to make sure it was Michelle's car in the driveway. When she saw me rushing to meet her, all she could do was laugh at my enthusiasm. I gave her a quick hug before starting in on the questions burning in my throat.

"Where is it? What kind of doll is it? Where and how did you find it?"

"Stephanie, don't worry, I have it in the backseat of my car. Give me a moment to grab it before we go inside for the big reveal." She told me as she opened the car door to do so. It was in a plain black shopping bag, sitting amongst the rest of her things from her trip.

When we both were finally settled in my living room, with warm cups of tea in hand, Michelle started to tell me a bit about how she found the doll. "As you know, I went to New Orleans this time around. I was looking at a bunch of different shops, hoping to find you a doll that would be extremely unique for your collection. I was having trouble finding the 'perfect' new addition to your collection when I finally stumbled upon the shop I bought this doll at. Honestly, if I hadn't noticed the sign above the door that said 'Custom Dolls,' I would have just walked past it. When I walked in, the shop was more than a little creepy, causing me to almost walkout empty handed. The whole place was covered in various doll arms, legs and other body parts. Two things caused me to stay, the wall of pictures on one wall of dolls and their owners and the sweet old lady behind the counter calling out to me.

"I was the only customer in the shop, so I immediately had the whole of her attention. She asked me if I was looking for myself or a friend. I went up to the counter and told her of your massive doll collection and my part in helping it grow. I also mentioned the trouble I had been having this time with finding you a new doll, that I was looking for something really unique, something you didn't already have. That's when she told me about her doppler-dolls, the dolls in the photos on the one wall."

"What exactly is a doppler-doll?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Well, it seemed to me like it was just a really life like doll modeled after the person it is made for. The old lady said she named them the way she did because of her fascination with the legends about doppelgangers. The legend tells of look-a-likes that will steal the lives of the original person that they look like, completely taking it over from them. Because of how much she makes her dolls look like the people they are to be given to, she thought the name was fitting."

"They won't steal their owner's life, will they?" I jokingly asked.

"Who knows..Oooohhhh," Michelle played along. "But seriously, it's probably just some superstitious nonsense. Any way, I gave her a picture I happened to have of you in my purse. After writing your name on the back of it, at her request, before leaving with the promise your new doll would be ready in a few days, in time for me to pick it up before heading to the airport. When I stopped in to pick it up, she showed it to me and the likeness was really shocking." Michelle finally handed the bag over to me.

The Doll from New OrleansWhere stories live. Discover now