The Dollmaster

Have you ever heard of the Dollmaster? No? Well you have probably heard him or his creations without even knowing it, long ago when you were a kid. You know those nights when you’re lying in bed unable to sleep, and you know that it’s really late because you already heard your parents go to sleep as well? And without the faint sound of them talking or watching TV downstairs you suddenly realize how quiet the house can be. With nothing else to focus on you can only listen to the deep, endless silence, a silence that awakens more fear than the loudest growl or the most wicked laughter possibly could. The faintest sound such as your cat jumping down from a cabinet or desk or the wind causing your house to creak can make your imagination run wild and think of ghosts stalking the hall or a giant monster shaking the house to its foundations. That’s when you can hear his creations sing.

Now since your still alive (I hope) and reading this, that means you were the type of kid who gave in to his or her fears and hid under the sheets, or the type of kid who could shrug it off and continue trying to get to sleep, or perhaps the type of kid who would seek comfort with his or her parents or older siblings. You have escaped his clutches. But if you know any brave children, any fearless, curious children, warn them. Because if they are brave enough, they will follow the singing. They will follow it to wherever he has made his lair, probably in an old attic, basement or storage room. He prefers dusty old places where adults don’t come often.

And they will find him. He will be waiting for them in the furthest corner of whatever place he has made his lair, lurking on the ceiling with his six long, spidery legs. But the kid won’t see him. The dolls will have captivated it. Such is their power. They will sit there, singing and smiling to it, their faces awfully human-like, as if they weren’t even made of wood in the first place. Yet when the child comes closer it will see the tears running down their cheeks and notice the sadness in their eyes contradicting the smile. By then the Dollmaster is already above the child, one pair of hands coordinating the undead choir with hardly visible strings. The other pair of thin, skeletal arms extended, its hands decorated with pitch-black talons reaching towards the child. If the child looks up, all it will see are his widely grinning mouth filled with crooked, yellow teeth and his pitch-black, reflective eyes. And a raspy, ghoulish voice will speak the next words;

“Now you will sing too!”