The Other Doll

Ellie looked at the doll. Then the note. Then back again. Shit.
She forced herself to read it once more.

“Your dishonesty was not appreciated, young lady!
As punishment, I have returned one of my authentic dolls, ‘The Angel of Death,’ with your pathetic imitation.
When you have learnt your lesson, and only then, may The Angel be returned to me. She’ll let you know when she’s ready.
You must not lose, sell, lend or share her.
Heed these warnings…
Your unhappy customer,
Rosina.”

Two dolls sat in front of Ellie. The one she’d posted to @Rosina_Genuine_Medium15.
And the other doll.
She’d refunded Rosina a week ago and thought that was the end of it. But Rosina had demanded Ellie also send her the money for return postage. Wanting to be a ‘good seller,’ Ellie had agreed. When she opened the returned package, she nearly fainted at the sight of the second doll.

As Ellie stared at the dolls, The Man in Black with the Crooked Back stretched behind her in her living room, grinning.
The Man had appeared the moment she lifted the doll from its wrappings, as if stepping out of a tear in the very fabric of the universe. He leaned over her shoulder and chuckled at the note. Typical Rosina.
Ellie, feeling a chill on her cheek, turned and checked for an open window or door. There wasn’t one.  
Unsettled, Ellie shoved both dolls into her bag, grabbed her coat, and headed for The Horny Goat. The Man in Black sauntered close behind her, whistling as he went.

The pub was a shithole, but close and cheap. Ellie spread her coat over a stool and sat beside her best mate, Big Babs. “I’ve a bone to pick with you,” she grumbled.
Big Babs looked up from her phone. Arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“That business plan you talked me into. It didn’t work!”
“That right?” Big Babs lifted her pint and took a long pull. “Remind me, Ellie love. Which plan was that?”
“The haunted doll one! I said it wouldn’t work and it hasn’t.”
Big Babs tried not to roll her eyes. “If I give you gold and you make a turd, don’t blame me. Wait. The eBay doll idea? How’d you balls that up?!”
“Well of course it sounded simple.”
“It was simple! Buy cheap dolls. Market them as haunted. Use AI to create a creepy backstory. Sell to thicko weirdos. Make a profit. No refunds. Which part of that fabulous foolproof plan did you fuck up?”
The Man in Black with the Crooked Back laughed heartily from the empty stool opposite the women.
“Did you hear something?” Big Babs asked, staring across the table.
“Hello you.” The man said.
Ellie shifted, lifting her hand to where her cheek had felt cool earlier. “Er, no?”
“Huh. Well, what went wrong?” Big Babs asked.
“Well, I sold ten dolls with no problem. Then, the eleventh buyer complained. Said her doll wasn’t haunted.”
Big Babs snorted. “Sure, how could she prove it?”
“She couldn’t. But what she could do was lodge a complaint about me to eBay and demand a refund. I processed her refund, hoping that would be it. But no! Then she demanded that I pay the postage to return the item! It arrived today,” Ellie sighed and mumbled, “and she sent one of her dolls back with mine.”
“What?” Big Babs asked, straining to hear her friend. “So now you’ve two dolls to sell? What’s the problem?”
Ellie glared at the table; arms folded.
Big Babs sighed and went to the bar. When she came back, pints in hand, two dolls sat on the table. One was a faded rag doll.

The other doll…
It had a cracked, bald porcelain head. Its arms and legs were switched. It wore stained black clothes. Worst of all, spider legs and insect wings jutted grotesquely from its eye sockets.
It was absolutely horrifying.

Big Babs stared at it, stunned. Eventually she asked, “Did the woman tell you anything about it?”
“Yeah, she said not to lose it, sell it, lend it, or share it. And I can’t return it until I’ve learnt my lesson. Apparently, the doll ‘will let me know’ when it’s ready to return.”
“Lend it?! Who’d want to borrow it?” Big Babs muttered, shivering. The Man had moved around the table and was standing behind her.

Nigel, a regular, passed by. “You okay, Big Baps? You’re looking pale.”
Big Babs didn’t snap at the nickname she hated. Being a larger lady, with a frankly enormous bosom and the name Barbara, meant nicknames were an inevitability. And she didn’t feel good. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “Er, no. I’m not feeling myself tonight, Nigel.”
This wasn’t surprising, as the Man in Black with the Crooked Back was softly squeezing her heart.
“I’ll head on, Ellie, love.” Babs said, shrugging into her jacket. “I’ll ring you tomorrow.”
As she made her way unsteadily to the door, The Man followed close behind her.

Ellie barely looked up. If she’d known it was the last time she’d see her friend, she might have paid more attention. But she couldn’t drag her eyes from the dolls. She thought she saw one of the spider legs twitch.

Nigel slid into Babs’ vacant seat, eyeing up her abandoned pint. “What have you done this time, Ellie?”
“I’m not sure,” Ellie admitted. Keen to change the subject, she asked, “Any news on your da?”
“Only bad news, I’m afraid.” Nigel answered.

A couple of pints later, Ellie dumped the doll in the pub’s bin before weaving her way home.

Babs was buried a week later. Ellie staggered home from the funeral, red‑eyed and drunk. It took her two tries to flick on the kitchen light. The doll sat on the counter between the kettle and tea caddy. Ellie blinked at it, trying to sober up fast. She reached out and almost touched it, snatching her hand back at the last moment.
Was this her doll? The spider legs and insect wings were gone. Two empty sockets stared back at her. Hair tufts dotted its skull.

Slowly, Ellie scanned the kitchen. She couldn’t see The Man in Black with the Crooked Back, but she could sense his presence. An unsettling mix of arrogance, cruelty and mischief. Overwhelmed, Ellie sat on her kitchen floor and started crying again. The Man in Black with the Crooked Back gave a satisfied smile, as he sat down beside her.

Ellie’s mum was worried about her. She knew this, as her mum had moved in with her for a few days and told her repeatedly, “I’m worried about you, Ellie love.”
“My best friend died! It’s hardly surprising I’m upset!” Ellie retorted, wishing her mum would bog off home again. Ellie’s terraced house could generously be described as ‘cosy’, and she resented sharing it. And besides, her mum’s visit coincided with her mum taking yet another ‘break’ from her tumultuous relationship with Vinnie, her on and off Manfriend. Boyfriend didn’t seem fitting, given that Vinnie was sixty-five and her mother was fifty-nine.
“I know, I know. Big Bap’s death has hit us all hard.” Her mother said soothingly.
“HER NAME WAS BIG BABS!” Ellie yelled at her mum. “She hated being called Big Baps!”
“Right! Right. Of course. Big Babs. Sorry, love.” Ellie’s mum said soothingly, not wanting to rile her daughter up unnecessarily. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?!” Ellie snapped.
“Why did you put that doll in my room?”

Ellie froze. She’d hurled the doll into the roof space days ago. “Doll?” she squeaked.
Her mum generously poured them a couple of vodka and Red Bulls. “Yeah, doll. Creepy thing. Dirty. Arms and legs on wrong. Buttons for eyes.”

Ellie bolted upstairs. The doll lay on the spare bed, button‑eyed. Less cracked than before. In a panic, she grabbed it, ran outside, and hurriedly buried it under the hedge.
When she came back in, her mum was slumped over the table, her red drink spilling onto the floor. “Mum?” Ellie whispered as her knees buckled.
The Man in Black with the Crooked Back threw back his head and roared with laughter. Ellie was screaming too loud to notice.

Vinnie and Ellie were locked in a glaring match. They’d been arguing for hours, and he still refused to leave. “I am a reasonable man, Ellie,” he began for the third time, “but how can you say your mother’s house doesn’t belong to me?”
“YOU. WEREN’T. MARRIED!” Ellie roared for what felt like the tenth time. “It was her house and now it’s mine!”
Typical, really, of her mum not to leave a will. Now she and Vinnie were fighting over a shitty two‑up two‑down before she was even buried. Ellie had no idea funerals were so expensive. And here was Vinnie, trying to take what was rightfully hers.
While Vinnie droned on like the patronising prick he was, Ellie stared at the doll on the counter. The buttons were gone now, replaced by gleaming hazel eyes that followed her around the room. Hair covered its head. The limbs were still wrong, but the dress was cleaner and the cracks all but faded.
What had Rosina called it? The Angel of Death…

The Man in Black with the Crooked Back hovered near the doll, looking bored, bent and worn. He missed Rosina. She was a cruel and fickle mistress, but she was home. As The Man watched the twosome argue, he could have sworn the girl was looking back at him.
“Are you gonna talk sense or are you gonna stare at that creepy arsed doll all night?” Vinnie snapped.
“It was my mother’s doll.” Ellie said suddenly.
“That doll? No, it wasn’t. Don’t talk shite.”
“It was. She passed it on to me when I moved here. She always brought it to bed with her when she had to stay with me.”
Vinnie faltered. “I’m sorry about that last fight we had. I’ve told you that already.”
“I think she’d like it in the coffin with her,” Ellie said.
“What? That doll in your ma’s coffin?”
“Yes. You’re at the undertakers this week, aren’t you?”
Vinnie spluttered.
Ellie pressed, staring at where she felt The Man. “Please. It would mean a lot. And if you give mum a good burial, I’ll split the proceeds from the house. Promise.”
The Man in Black with the Crooked Back grinned. “Clever girl.”
Vinnie left with the doll in hand. The Man following behind, slower and more stooped than before.

Ellie delayed the burial so her mum and Vinnie could share the plot. She said it was for love, but everyone knew it was to save money.
After the funeral, the mourners were invited to The Horny Goat for refreshments. Ellie cut a forlorn figure, clutching her doll to her chest. In its shiny black dress, with glossy long hair, it looked brand new.
Nigel sidled up. “That’s never the same doll, is it?”
“It sure is! It’s been restored,” Ellie said.
“I wouldn’t have recognised her.” Nigel said.
Ellie’s thoughts drifted to the letter she’d received from Rosina that very morning, demanding the doll’s return. She smiled to herself. This doll was going nowhere.
The Man in Black with the Crooked Back looked worse than ever, sat on the pub floor, tattered and broken, staring at Ellie with baleful eyes.
Nigel sighed. “Won’t be long until I’m hosting one of these myself. Dad’s down to weeks now, not months.”
Ellie smiled warmly. “I’m sorry to hear that. Have you anyone to help?”
“No. Just me. Clearing out that huge house of his will be a nightmare.”
A hunger uncoiled in Ellie’s chest like a viper, ready to strike. She squeezed the doll tighter.
On tiptoes, she kissed Nigel’s cheek. “Come back to mine tonight. I’d rather not be alone.”
“You’re sure?” Nigel’s eyes were wide.
“Course, I’m sure.”
As Nigel beamed at her, Ellie pictured a whirlwind romance followed by a small wedding.
She also pictured a sudden heart attack and a very large house to enjoy widowhood in.
Oblivious to all around him, The Man in Black with the Crooked Back sobbed softly, bound now to a new mistress.