Dad's Doll

“Stella! For the love of God, girl. How many times do I have to tell you to get the boxes from the attic? We promised your uncle that we would donate your old toys and clothes to his charity.”

Stella glares at the stairs leading downstairs and mutters, “I never promised that. And why does it have to be my stuff? Why not Dustin’s?”

“I heard that, young lady.”

“Well, then, why aren’t we donating some of Dustin’s stuff?”

“Your brother wants to give his old toys to the baby. You know that.”

“So, what? My stuff isn’t good enough to be handed down?” She chuckles. “Oh, of course it’s not. For that, they would actually have to be quality stuff, right?”

Thump. Ah, Stella thinks, she’s reached the end of her tether. Next, it’ll be… Crash

Yep, there it is. Geraldine Piper’s famous temper.

“Stella! You better be in the attic when I get up there, or I swear-“

She’s already up the stairs before her mother can finish that sentence.

She breathes the heavy, musky air in and sighs. “I still think it’s unfair.”

She weaves past old lamps, boxes full of family heirlooms, which are curiously filled with faux fox furs, board games they used to play when her father was still around and her mother still cared, and old carpets. She ducks and glides through the dim lighting and nearly bangs her head multiple times on the low ceiling. 

“What a way to spend my Sunday. I certainly drew the lottery on this one, didn’t I?”

After ducking past a stuffed deer head, which she has begged her mother for years to get rid of, she finally finds the boxes marked Stella’s toys.

Instead of carrying them to the stairs, she kneels and opens the first of five boxes.

Most of them are just regular kids' toys. Water pistols, stuffed animals in varies forms and sizes and games to keep them entertained while the parents were hoping to get some work done or do something even more hopeless, like sleep.

When she gets to the last box, she feels a little bit sheepish.

“Hmm, maybe Mum is right to donate these things. Most of them are rubbish anyway.”

She chuckles. “Not that I’ll tell her that.”

She gets to the bottom of the fifth box and stops. “What’s this? I don’t remember this thing.”

There, at the very bottom of the cardboard box, is a bundle of cloth.

It’s quite light and has an odd shape to it.

“Let’s see what’s in here, then.”

After untying the red ribbon, she unfolds the old bath cloth and then just stares at the thing lying on her hands.

An uncomfortable, pressuring feeling starts building up inside of her.

Her throat works hard as she tries to swallow.

A chuckle bubbles up in her chest, but comes out as a desperate wheeze when it reaches her mouth.

“I… I remember you.”

She doesn’t move as she inspects the barbie doll with knotted hair and mismatched clothing of a hot pink halter top and bright orange disco trousers. One of her red shoes is missing and the blue ribbon that was once nicely tied around her head has loosened so that now only one loop remains.

But all of that pales in comparison to her melted, lopsided face. The eyes are totally wonky, the nose holes are blown out of proportion and the cherry-red mouth has lengthened into a joker grimace.

“You can’t be here.”

She was five when her father gave it to her. She was so happy to have it. Not because it was an expensive toy or because all her friends were envious of her having it. And not because it was the perfect doll with blueberry eyes and long blond hair and a beautiful face.

But because her dad had given it to her.

He’d said, “Listen here, little star. As long as you have this doll, nothing bad will happen to you. She will protect you when I can’t and will always love you.”

Stella thought that it was the most precious thing in the world.

She believed what her father had said. She believed Lola, the doll, really loved her and would always protect her.

But her father had been wrong. In so many ways.

At first, it started with little things. The barbie’s head was angled slightly different from how Stella had set it the previous day. Or one of her hands were raised or lowered. Stella, at five years old, didn’t think much of these changes. Even when she did, the thought left as soon as it had arrived.

When she turned seven, she got new outfits for Lola. They were wonderful clothes. Lots of colourful dresses and different lengthened skirts and trousers. And she even got some ribbons to match.

Stella loved playing dress-up with her Lola.

Every now and then, she would wake to Lola on her night stand with different clothes on then the ones from the previous day. Stella just thought that her mother had changed the outfit while she had slept.

Stella was always grateful to have her precious friend around her.

“You really love me, don’t you, Lola? Well, I love you, too.”

Then, when Stella was eight years old, Lola became even more important to her.

One night, her mother came into her room and hurried her and her brother into their car without any explanation.

They drove for hours. They didn’t stop until they reached Uncle Lou’s house.

During the drive, Stella kept asking where they were going and why Dad wasn’t with them.

Her mother had just smiled and said that they were going for a long trip. Lou had called her and asked her to visit him. And Dad couldn’t come with them because he had a business meeting. But when that visit had turned into a permanent residence, Stella started asking more question.

She soon gave up when her mother wasn’t giving her any decent answers.

To this day, Stella doesn’t know where her father really is.

Through the entire process, the only constant that Stella had, was Lola.

They would wake up together, breakfast together, spend the day together and then go to sleep together.

Lola, in all respects, had become her comfort person.

It wasn’t until she was ten, that Stella started noticing a few odd things.

The first time was when she had gone to her friend’s birthday party and had come home with a pink-coloured streak in her hair. The next day, Lola had a pink streak, too. At first, Stella had found it sweet that her mother had matched the two. But when she thanked her for it, her mother hadn’t known what she was talking about.

Not delving too deep into how it happened, she decided that her brother must have done it.

But then more weird things started happening.

From one day onwards, Stella would come home to Lola wearing the exact same outfit that Stella was wearing.

Although she knew all of Lola’s wardrobe off by heart, she never thought that they had matching outfits.

Then she was walking up with Lola right next to her in her bed, wearing matching pyjamas, although she had put the barbie doll in the doll house before going to sleep.

On the day that she found Lola sitting outside the bathroom door after her bath, despite having deliberately left her in her room, she freaked out.

She threw the doll up the attic stairs and then ran downstairs to her mother. But when she hysterically told her mother what had happened, she patted her on her head and smiled at her. “You have created your own little world with that doll of yours. That’s so sweet.”

Before Stella, defeated and confused, left the kitchen, her mother called out, “I set up your candles, just how you like them. Enjoy them with Lola.”

But she hardly heard her mother’s words as she headed up the stairs, her mind reeling with thoughts.

It wasn’t until she had closed her door that she looked up.

There, on her bed, sat Lola.

And for the first time, her clothes didn’t match. Every clashed: her pink top and orange trousers with red shoes and a blue ribbon.

The only thing harmonious was her face. Her always perfect face. With that kind and serene smile.

But this time, that smile made shivers race up Stella’s spine.

She stood there for a long time, her mind screaming at her to run, move, anything. But her body wouldn’t obey.

“L-Lola?” she said in a small voice.

“Are you- are you… alive?”

She held her breath as the barbie slowly nodded.

“A-Are you going to h-hurt me?”

Lola bumpily shook her head.

“What do you w-want, Lola?”

Both of Lola’s arms lifted and her curled fingers pointed at Stella. And without her mouth moving, she spoke.

“Lola protect Stella. Lola always love Stella.”

Stella released a shaky breath.

“I k-know, Lola. Dad promised me that.” She took a step towards the bed. “Why have you been m-matching my clothes, Lola?”

The barbie’s arms moved back down and then her head tilted jerkily to the side. “Lola likes Stella. Lola wants Stella to notice.”

Another step towards the bed. “Notice what? That you’re alive?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To tell.”

“Tell what?”

“Stella not safe. This not home.”

Her steps faltered. “What do you mean? This is my home. My family is here.”

The barbie shook her head joltingly. “No. Not all family. Missing one.”

Stella smiled hesitantly. “You mean my dad? I know he’s not here. Mum says that he’s lost somewhere. But I don’t know what to believe.”

“Not lost. I know where.”

Stella took multiple steps towards the bed. “You know where my dad is? Where? Tell me!”

The doll’s arm lifted mechanically towards the window. “Far away. But Lola show Stella the way.”

Stella turned around. “That’s great. I’ll get Mum.”

“NO!”

Stella froze. That pitch in tone was terrifying. She slowly looked over her shoulder at Lola.

The barbie was leaning forward, her blond hair falling past her shoulders.

“Stella no go Mum.”

“B-But why not, Lola? Mum wants to see Dad, too. A-And she can help us get to him.”

Lola shook her head. “Stella no need Mum. Stella has Lola. Lola will protect. Stella not safe here.”

“That’s not true, Lola. I am safe. Mum’s here and Dustin and Uncle Lou are here. A-And you are here, too.”

“Stella only safe with Dad.”

Stella clenched her fists. “You’re wrong, Lola. I’m getting Mum.”

She turned around and reached for the doorhandle.

“NO!”

A force slammed Stella against the door, her forehead hitting the hard wood first. Then something was ripping at her hair.

“You’re coming with me, Stella. Don’t disobey me!”

Stella clutched at the small figure dragging at her hair, whirling around the room. Screams ripped from her throat as she banged into her playboxes, her bed and her desk.

“Be a good girl, Stella, and come with me. You need me! You’re mine!”

Lola’s voice had turned dark and menacing and made goosebumps break out on Stella’s skin.

“Let go, Lola! Leave me alone!”

A wave of heat blew past her back as they stumbled onto the bed. From the corner of her eye, she saw the source and her mind sparked with a memory.

With both of her small hands, she grabbed the doll and yanked it off her hair, taking a few strands with her. With extended arms, she held Lola’s face into the small flames of the candles on her nightstand.

A loud screeching sound made her ears ring and her skull vibrate, but her grip on the doll only tightened.

Just as the screeching was dying down, Lola said with a garbled voice, “I will find you someday.” And then all movement and sound from the doll ceased.

With shaking hands, Stella turned the doll around. What was once a beautiful face, was now a grimace that was the stuff of nightmares.

She threw the doll on the floor and ran out of the room, straight into her mother’s arms.

She never told her why she was crying and refusing to sleep in her own room.

When her mother saw Lola, she assumed that Stella and her had a “fight” and had taken it out on the doll.

When Stella saw that Lola hadn’t moved from where she had thrown her, she was relieved, but still tense.

Her mother promised her a new doll, but Stella didn’t want one.

She never wanted another doll in her life.

When her mother had finished fussing over what was once Lola, Stella took it, wrapped it in a bath towel and tied it together with a red ribbon which once belonged to the barbie.

Then she walked to the biggest bridge in town, tied two stones around the bundle and threw it off the bridge.

It took weeks of looking in every nook and cranny and not finding the cursed doll that she started feeling hopeful and relieved. She had burned and discarded all things related to the doll Lola and tried her absolute hardest to erase that thing and its actions from her mind.

It wasn’t until she was a teenager that she had fully convinced herself that she had dreamt it up.

Simply the imagination of a child.

But now, looking at the melted doll face with its disfigured features and grotesque grimace, all the memories come rushing back.

“It was real,” she whispers.

“You were real.”

Her grip on the doll tightens. “But I threw you in the river. I drowned you! How can you- how can you be here?”

She drops the doll and stumbles to her feet. “This isn’t possible. This can’t be possible.”

She knocks over boxes and lamps as she runs towards the stairs. Her feet catch on some fox furs and she goes down hard.

The fall forces all air from her lungs. When she lifts up on her arms, she can only wheeze and her vision blurs.

As she lifts herself a fraction higher, air fills her lungs again and her vision clears.

But she wishes it hadn’t

Infront of her, standing, is Lola.

The barbie smirks at her.

“I finally found you. My little star.”