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 Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2017 9:21 am
Quote: You receive a mysterious package in the mail. It has your name on it, but no return address. Inside is an extremely creepy doll. Realistically it seems well made and well maintained, but there’s something off about it. If you choose to keep it, it seems to always have its eyes on you. Sometimes it seems to have moved from where you left it—and, since you received it, sometimes you hear a strange, echoing laughter. What do you do?
The carefully wrapped box sat on the coffee table. It’s papered wrapping tied up in a carefully bowed twine and adorned with the name Isaiah Zahne and an address that was no longer his to call home. Gwen went about the house, cleaning up from an evening of indulging herself in TV watching, sketching and dog cuddling. Pencils of all sorts were scattered around the table next to the package which she paid little mind to in her pursuits. Gathering the pencils into a bundle she dropped them back into the plastic container she used for their storage before turning her attention to the many blankets laid strewn over the couch.
Reilly had claimed one of the knitted afghans in pink and grey as his own. Curled into a ball, head resting on the edge of the couch, he watched from his cushy perch as Gwen went about her cleaning. She didn’t bother to move the sheltie. Instead, the red-head folded up the other two blankets that had been discarded in her haste for bed the previous evening.
Despite her determined conviction that she was no longer interested, Gwen couldn’t keep herself from tidying up the apartment when Isaiah had mentioned he’d be by to pick up the parcel. It had been an odd thing, finding the box on her doorstep. The thought of leaving it there for him to pick up on his own had been tempting at first, but thefts were not uncommon in her neighborhood. Anyone could easily walk up and take the box and Gwen had no idea if it was of importance. If any at all. Isaiah hadn’t given her any clue in his response to her text.
Thank goodness I hadn’t deleted him from my phone. Otherwise, I’d be stuck with the thing until I saw him again. Folding up the second blanket she stacked it on top of the other on the back of the couch. I guess I could have sent him a letter via our rings, but for some reason, it seems so odd to do for such a mundane thing as a package pick-up
Gathering up her mug that sat on the coffee table near the package, she turned towards the kitchen just as her doorbell rang. She hesitated a moment, unsure what to do. “Come in.” She hollered as she retreated in haste to deposit the mug in the sink. A part of her unwilling to see the man waltz into the apartment as he had once done.
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2017 11:06 am
Who in the hell was dumb enough to send a package to Gwen's? The question racked his brain for hours. He updated all of his contacts on his present address, including the post office, including the bill companies, including all the annoying telemarketers so that he wouldn't have this awkward ******** situation popping up in his life. They still lived in the same town, and ran into each other at public events much too often to be comfortable. They were both knights. They each swept the streets for Nega trash.
And now he had to pick up his ******** mail from her house.
I should've just told her to burn it, Ice determined bitterly. Just throw it in the trash. If I knew for sure it wasn't that damnable Tiffany lamp that's been lost in the mail, I could wave it on without a second thought. Damn my luck. Isaiah's internal diatribe continued to ramp up through the slow process of dressing himself. He chose a button-up because laundry day, and Halloween stockings because laundry day, and slip-on shoes because ******** laces. His hair looked a mess with copper streaks growing out and roots beginning to show. And given that he had no clean clothes nor hair dye on hand, the crux of his generally-not-shitty impression lay in his makeup.
Which took hours. Literal hours. Ice felt the blood pooling in his elbow and the lactic acid buildup in his hand before he finished with his mascara. And the black and red two-tone eyeshadow only helped so much — seldom did it detract from his roots or his shitty outfit or the general state of his '******** this day' expression.
After he arrived at her door, by a bus system that side-eyed him for appearance alone, Ice started counting his huffs. He got up to about five before he even bothered to ring the doorbell, and then another couple after that when he heard Gwen's muffled voice from within. With a final huff, he tried the door, found it unlocked, and stepped inside to Cleanliness Hell.
I bet she rage-cleans like I do. Looking around, he found everything in its place nad very little dust to suggest idleness. He knew how she kept her apartment in the days spent together; he guessed a couple hours were spent tidying up as a result of — or in anticipation of — his arrival. Well, at least he wouldn't be sneering at the ground while he picked up his package. Wherever it was. "So where's the delivery? It's probably that damned Tiffany lamp. I feel like I've been fighting the post office for six months on that one…" He sighed. "At least it's finally here, anyway."
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Posted: Sat Oct 28, 2017 8:25 am
She heard the door open and close, Reilly hopping down from his perch on the couch by the clicking of dog nails on hardwood floor; likely to greet the familiar human, and then the all familiar voice. Placing her mug in the sink she stood there, leaning against it as she worked to compose herself. It was strangely nostalgic to hear him in the apartment and her heartbeat quickened against her will. Simultaneously though, a small part of her wanted to turn around, storm into the living room, throw the damnable package at him and kick him out as swiftly as she could. Thankfully, the more calm and sane part of her won out, even if that damnable devil continued to whisper in her ear.
Pushing away from the sink, Gwen took a deep breath and walked out to the living room where she found Reilly practically dancing around Isaiah looking for affection. It was a peculiar sight indeed. Unlike herself who was dressed in brown leggings, a long, light blue sweater and a pair of boot socks, Isaiah looked as if he had awoken from a night of debauchery at a Halloween party. Halloween tights were the main show on him followed closely by the make-up she could only imagine took a painstakingly long amount of time. Isaiah had always been one to take the time to worry about his facial appearance while Gwen was more than happy to slap on some mascara and call it a day.
“A lamp?” She questioned with a curious look. “It didn’t feel heavy enough to be a lamp unless it’s a small thing.” She gestured to the coffee table where the brown package sat on display. “It’s right there. Any idea who would you send you mail here? It’s been months now.” She remarked as she stood on the threshold of the kitchen and the living room, arms crossed just under her chest as if a way to comfort her from the menagerie of emotions that were filtering through her body.
“Reilly certainly missed you.” She said offhandedly as the dog practically glued himself to Isaiah’s side.
Realizing it was her chance to nab the blanket the sheltie had claimed, Gwen walked between the couch and the coffee table to grab the knitted bundle and fold it up to add to the pile on the back of the couch.
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Posted: Sat Oct 28, 2017 10:30 am
The package sender was a trouble that often weighed on his mind now. "An a*****e, that's who." Who else could it have been?
While Tastykake often got in his business, she seldom compared to Gwen's sheltie in the days spent living at her residence. While being much bigger than Tasty, he also had more energy — and Reilly often expressed it by jumping into Isaiah's affairs at the soonest convenience. Ice found himself pushing away the dog's muzzle rather than getting to the package at hand, largely due to lacking two hands for the procedure. "Can you… Take him somewhere? Maybe the hell away from the package for a minute?" He smiled in an attempt to offset his mild hostility.
Dropping his hand to his side, he eyed the box. Long and narrow it was — nothing like the promised lamp. "Well, it's supposed to be a ceiling lamp, and it wouldn't fit in a box this size. Not unless someone broke it in half, anyway. Which is possible." Probable, considering how much I threatened the guy last time. C'est la vie.
Gwen squirreled herself away once again, and Ice set about tearing through the nondescript packaging. His keyring pocket knife split through the brown tape easily, and he peeled back the paper with the flat of the blade. Underneath, he found an equally nondescript white box. Its top fit snugly — so snugly, in fact, that he needed to leverage both his arms against the sides and lift with trust paid to gravity. The box groaned in its descent until it finally fell out of its lid. "Finally," the shopkeeper huffed.
But inside lay nothing he would ever order. Amongst a set of silk pillows sat a doll — its eyes too wide, its legs too long, its expression a garish grin. Ice's nose wrinkled in disgust and he grimaced at the scene. Just look at this ugly ******** Gwen," he called over shoulder, "did they give you any kind of return address?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 29, 2017 4:58 pm
Gwen shot Isaiah a look at his not so nice attempt at hinting she should remove Reilly from his presence. “Come here, Reilly.” She called the dog who looked at her, back to Isaiah, before padding over to Gwen who promptly scooped him up into her arms. The 20 lb or so sheltie was no issue to support, especially when he leaned into her chest in an obvious display of love for the attention.
I hope it’s shattered at this rate. She thought to herself but didn’t say anything as she plopped a kiss on her dog’s nose. By this point, it was only with mild curiosity that she watched Isaiah work opening the package. She didn’t offer help, knowing full well it would be denied or thrown back in her face, so she opted to lean against the frame between the kitchen and living room. Her attention turned back to Reilly who had decided it was a perfect time to shower her face with gentle kisses.
“Hmm?” She looked back at Isaiah, tapping the dog’s nose away from her face as she did so. “No, I don’t remember seeing a return address…” She said as she put her dog down. “But let me check real fast.”
Walking into the kitchen she grabbed her own pile of mail that sat on the table. With quick work, she flipped through each envelope before placing the stack back on the table. “Nope. Nothing here.” She stated as she walked back into the living room. Reilly it seemed had made himself comfortable on the couch again sans his blanket pillow.
“Why? Not what you expected?” She questioned as she peered around his shoulder. “What the hell is that?” Rounding around him to get a better look at the thing Gwen made a face that clearly said what she thought of the doll. And it wasn’t good. “It looks like it’s sitting in its own coffin. Who would ever want something so creepy?”
Carefully she reached down to pull the child’s toy from the box. It’s body, while oddly proportioned was still in good condition. The porcelain it was made from had held up well. Whoever had owned it had obviously taken great care of it. “Can’t you just pawn it off?” She questioned. “Maybe donate it somewhere if not?” She wrinkled her nose at the thing. “This damn thing is enough to give someone nightmares.” She handed the doll over, careful not to mess up the little red dress it wore. Even it’s blonde hair was in nearly impeccable condition, curled in two large pigtail ringlets topped by red ribbons.
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Posted: Mon Oct 30, 2017 9:41 pm
A least Gwen confirmed his vehemently bad reaction to the doll, he learned, as he looked in her direction. He looked once again back to the doll, half-expecting it to respond to him or look at him like a tired horror movie trope. Nothing happened. Nothing moved, no limbs twitched, no eyes rolled into the back of its head, no demonic speaking. It was all just dead porcelain and paint and a tacky wig and some silk clothes. "You're asking me like I know. Which, yes I get it, it was sent to me, but I can promise you I would never have such an immense lapse in aesthetic that I'd purchase something like this. Even if I was drunk and high and probably three-quarters dead."
And without a return address, Isaiah was left no clues to its whereabouts. He had no way of knowing if someone from the neighborhood simply dropped the package at her door, or if it was someone who knew him and wanted to prank him terribly, or even if it was one of his own couriers fussing around and looking for a chance to get fired. The lack of closure bothered him, dug under his skin and burrowed there to foster unsteadiness.
Then Gwen had the audacity to pick it up. "Don't touch that! What if someone painted it over with anthrax or something? Or it's coated in deadly viruses or lice or — just put it down!" He urged out of concern, consternation and fear. "We don't know where it's from. Whoever decided it'd be a good idea to send me some creepy-a** doll already has a twisted sense of humor, and probably wouldn't be above turning it into a bomb or something. Think about it, Gwen —" he lowered his voice to a whisper. "What if it's Schörl? Or Cinnabar?" What if they somehow knew? Or suspected? It could be a test.
I don't want that kind of test. I don't want anything from Schörl. I don't even want her ******** skull at this rate; I'd probably get gonorrherpasyphilaids by touching it if she makes a habit out of mangling knights.
Even as she handed it to him, Isaiah refused to touch it. He threw his hand up in mock surrender and paced a few steps back. "I don't want it. ******** trying to sell it. It's ugly as hell, if it doesn't chase off half my customers from the creep value. I'm probably not even losing any money on it. I'll just throw it off a tall building. Or burn it. I can find out the temperature at which porcelain melts, probably. Google exists." Or it might just end up looking creepier. Ice didn't know. "Just put it back in the box. Ugh."
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Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2017 8:45 am
The abrupt reaction Isaiah had to Gwen handling the doll caused a sly smile to cross her face as she attempted to hold in the chuckle that bubbled up. “Well.” She said with a slight cough as she hid over her amusement. “I would be more worried that they knew you had lived here, or...still think you live here than a doll that was left for you.” She couldn’t fully argue that he was wrong. It was a possibility, but really, if those two heinous women had figured out who he was, she had a strong feeling they wouldn’t send some creepy doll as some sort of ’Ha! I found you’ gift.
“Though.” She said as she carefully put the doll back into its coffin-like box, “Your concern is touching.” For a change.
In a show of truce, Gwen walked into the bathroom, bumped the light on with her shoulderand used her wrist to flip up the sink handle so as not to touch anything else with her possibly contaminated hands. Soap was applied to her hands and thoroughly cleansed. “Really, I don’t care what the hell you do with it.” She called from the bathroom once she turned the water off. “It’s just not staying here. It’s creepy enough with the way it just….stares. The last thing I need now is worrying that maybe you’re right and it is some sort of threat.” After towel drying her hands, she walked back into the living room.
The doll sat in its box just how Gwen had placed it. Its eyes, which she swore felt like they were watching her at times, seemed to stare off. “It looks like something out of a horror film.” She remarked. “Like, there’s possibly some pissed off soul or something possessing it just waiting to attack.” Twas the season after all and Gwen had indulged in a few too many horror flicks.
“Personally, I’d break it and find a random dumpster to drop it in.” A second thought. “Maybe donate it.”
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Posted: Sat Nov 11, 2017 9:26 pm
Of course it's not staying here. We broke up months ago now. Even if it was something remotely pleasant to look at, it wouldn't be staying here. Where's your head at, Gwen? Isiaha confined his musings while Gwen retreated to the bathroom, and he was left to look over the garish face.
"You really are a creepy little s**t," he muttered under his breath. The doll offered no answer — only an unblinking stare at its unwilling owner. Ice shuddered and turned around. He turned back as soon as he felt its loathsome gaze boring into the back of his skull.
"If it was a threat, its stay wouldn't be terribly important. They already know this address and that I used to live here." His tongue traced his dentures in thought. They certainly weren't in a position of authority to act on any potential threats. "Nothing can be done of it now, I suppose. I'll take your advice on the dumpster; I think that dropping this fugly hunk of rock off at a Goodwill is asking to get kicked off the premises. Sort of like when you try to donate a box of gently used personal massagers…" Ice pulled a grimace. "Got banned from that one.
"Anyway, I'll be going now. If I don't text you by tomorrow, do me a favor and call the police. Not that they'll be much help, mind, but it's a comfort to know my body will at least be looked for." He sighed, and with elbow and stump pressed to the sides of the lid, he closed up the box. It proved just as stubborn as when he opened it. I'll be glad to get out of here. Feels like it's 20 degrees in this house with Gwen here. Overstayed my welcome before I even walked through the door, I suppose.
Ice swept the box under his arm as best he could, found it unwieldy and untenable, then retired it to his left arm. Grinding his teeth, he begrudgingly considered his ex's assistance. He then promptly walked to the door himself, set the box aside while he opened the door, and aimed a sure kick at its side to send it tumbling down the concrete stairs. "See you around, I suppose." Ice dared a glance back into the house, lingering for but a moment, before he shut the door behind himself. Even the short drive to the nearest dumpster would prove much too long; dealing with this uncanny doll plus his ex's chilly ire left him ansy to escape to a bar.
He'd need a long night of drinking after this one.
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