The Doll Maker Rewrite

## The Doll Maker Rewrite by Doros70

(Vine Volikov aka The Doll Maker was created by Chisai-Yokai)

Three weeks ago, I heard of a lone doll maker living on the outskirts of town. They said that he was a man who could make beautiful dolls of all shapes and sizes, even life-sized ones. Unfortunately for some people, most of those dolls were absurdly expensive, but the price depended on both the quality and size of the dolls. No one knows anything personal about him except that people called him "Vine". (A part of me doubts that this is his real name.)

I was very interested because I'd been planning on writing a story at the time and I needed some inspiration. The problem was that I knew I couldn't just write about something without having some idea of what it's like. I guess I wanted to get some significant insight into the world of craftsmanship. I know there are plenty of books that touch on that subject, but I thought that some firsthand experience would help me a whole lot more than just reading about it.

A few people told me that looking for the doll maker would be a bad idea, but they never told me exactly why. After asking around for a while, I managed to get the address and drive to find the doll maker's workshop/store. It was an old wooden cabin in the middle of nowhere that had an overlook of the city. I walked up to the porch and noticed a handmade sign on the door that said "open".

I entered the store, but what I saw made me feel uneasy. I looked around and saw the dolls on display. Sure enough, some of them were as big as me, and they were shiny. Some of them were made of wood, others were made of plastic, porcelain, clay, etc. They were all so meticulously painted that some of them were eerily realistic. At first glance, you'd almost mistake them for real people.

I walked over to the counter, but strangely, no one was there. I looked beyond the counter and saw a small curtain obscuring a doorway that possibly led in the back. I looked down and noticed a small call bell. I pressed the button and waited. After three seconds, I heard a loud thud coming from beyond, followed by heavy footsteps.

I was not prepared for what happened next.

I remember the feeling I had when I saw the doll maker for the first time. His appearance alone and the way he looked at me made a colossal pit in my stomach. He was a lanky man in his 30s with long, unkempt black hair that went past his shoulders. He was wearing a wrinkled blue shirt which gave me the impression that he hadn't changed in days. Whenever he put his hands on the counter, I could see that his nails were long, dirty, uncut, and chipped in a few places. He'd occasionally tap his fingers on the wooden surface loudly, which got under my skin after a short while.

What caught me off-guard the most was his face framed by his scraggly hair. He had a few scars on his face. His left eye was blue and normal, but the other was large, pink, and looked like it was made of glass. There were a few times I could've sworn it'd pop out of the socket at any moment.

The way he looked at me was especially unusual. He had a permanent scowl on his face as if I'd wronged him somehow. I wanted to take my eyes off him or at least break the silence, but I stood there, frozen. After what seemed like minutes, the doll maker finally broke the silence, asking me in a low and gravelly voice,

"Are you gonna make a purchase, or are you just gonna stand there?"

Even though he seemed calm, his question made me feel like he could just snap at me at any moment, so I collected myself fast enough to answer.

"Sorry. My name's Emily, and I'm here to, uh... learn from you to get some inspiration for something I've been working on."

"You want me to be your muse?" he asked me without changing his tone or expression.

"If that's the way you wanna put it," I smiled nervously, hoping to at least make the atmosphere less tense.

The doll maker stood motionless for a moment and looked at the counter, thinking. He tapped his fingernails against the wooden counter again, only much quicker this time. For the briefest of moments, I felt good when that giant fake eye wasn't focused on me, but the obnoxiously loud tapping didn't make me feel relaxed.

He let out a brief sigh and looked at me again.

"Alright. I'll show you my talent, but you can't prevent me from exacting payment for my time and effort, and it ain't gonna be cheap."

I thought about this beforehand, and I knew something like this would happen. So I saved up some cash for the occasion. I put down the money and he counted them quietly.

"Four hundred? Fair enough," he said.

He put the money in his pocket and walked through the doorway behind him. He turned around and motioned me to come over.

"This way."

I went after him, and beyond the curtain was a smaller room. It contained a dirty workbench and two chairs, but it felt very cramped. Countless unfinished dolls and figures were hanging on the walls and ceiling, most of them were life-sized. Some of them weren't fully painted, others had missing limbs, and I saw a few heads sticking out of some of the boxes.

Those smooth and unnatural imitations of the human body made me feel nervous. They made me think about entering a room full of corpses, but the lifeless eyes somehow can still look at you.

We walked over to the workbench and the doll maker took a rather tall stool closer to me.

"Take a seat."

I did as he asked, and he walked away for a few seconds, bringing a large box full of materials to the workbench. He took out a few supplies one by one, but he suddenly stopped.

"Oh... I forgot my armature wire. Stay put."

He turned around and he walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the unfinished dolls. I immediately realized how uneasy the dolls made me feel, and I kept looking in different directions. As my eyes darted all over the room trying to escape the sight of those dolls, I saw something unusual. Behind one of the limbless torsos that hung from the ceiling, was an old blue door, and my interest was piqued. I got up from the stool and cautiously made my way toward it. Just then, I heard a faint, but strange noise. I slowly put my ear against the blue wood, and I could hear the sounds a bit clearer.

It's hard to describe what I heard, but it sounded... mechanical, I guess. Like operating machines in a factory. I could hear steam coming out of pipes and moving gears. I thought it was weird because I could've sworn that I was in a small cabin.

My eyes involuntarily focused on the doorknob and my hand automatically moved toward it. As my hand got closer, I had the inexplicable feeling that I was about to see something awful on the other side. When my finger was just shy of an inch of the doorknob, a sound caught me off guard.

"Ahem."

I instantly turned and I saw the doll maker looking at me again, but this time, his glare was even worse than before. It felt like at any moment, he would lunge at me and rip my guts out with his nails. He looked at me for a moment before he spoke again, suppressed anger being present in his voice.

"Sit. Down..."

I did as he said. I didn't dare look at him or the blue door when I sat on the stool. He put down the wire next to the other materials and sat on the chair as well, but he didn't say anything. After a moment of nerve-racking silence, he let out a deep sigh and looked at me.

"I'll make something easy," he started. "I'll make a simple figure of clay representing the first thing that comes to mind. But there are a few conditions. First, pay very close attention to what I'm doing. Don't screw with me. And lastly, don't let your guard down. Not even for a second. Got it?"

"Yes."

And with that said, the doll maker finally started to work. He didn't say much as he made the figure, but I could tell what materials he used and how he applied the clay on the wire. I'm sorry, I wish I could describe the process of making the figure in detail, but I was so jumpy that I hardly paid attention.

There were a few times when I tried to look at the scars on his face, but I couldn't look at him for longer than a few seconds, because I was afraid that he'd look back at me. I still don't know whether it was just my imagination or if that giant glass eye did move.

I wanted to ask him about the blue door, but I feared that if I asked him that, things would explode into violence, so I decided against it. But the silence was killing me, and I couldn't shut up.

"So, uh... How long have you been making dolls?"

The doll maker stopped what he was doing, and my heart sank when he made perfect eye contact with me.

"Why do you wanna know that? Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. The silence is a bit too much for me."

"You're sorry, huh?"

"It was just a harmless apology."

"Not everything is harmless here."

I gulped when he said that. From then on, I'd decided not to say a damn word while he worked. ...But even that didn't last long. He continued to stare at me; he didn't even blink.

"How many regrets do you have?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" I answered in surprise.

"I asked how many regrets you have."

"I... think everyone has countless regrets. But I don't understand what this has to do with your work."

"It has a lot to do with my work. I told you at the beginning to not let your guard down, and now you're facing the consequences."

I didn't know why, but for some reason, I thought that was all he had to ask me, but when he slightly leaned closer to me, I realized to my regret that he wasn't done interrogating me.

"What was the worst thing that has ever happened to you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What was. The worst thing. That has ever happened to you."

I've never felt comfortable telling my secrets to strangers, so my first thought was to come up with a clichéd sob story. I wanted to lie so bad, I really did... but the fear and tension made me do otherwise.

"A long time ago, my best friend and I had a really bad falling-out. The reason for that was petty and stupid in hindsight. Once the fight was over, we went to our own homes. Later that night, I reflected on the things I said and felt very guilty. So I went to my friend's house to apologize in person, but her parents told me that she went to my house to apologize over a half hour ago. So I went out again, but on my way home, I saw an ambulance and noticed that my best friend was being carried on a gurney. She was mortally wounded, and so she didn't last long. The doctors said that someone had assaulted her brutally and had multiple ruptured organs. There've been a few suspects, but the assailant was never caught, unfortunately. After all that's happened, I didn't come out of my room for days. She was a sweet and kind person, so I don't understand how people can be that cruel to anyone."

After I spilled my guts, I let out a deep sigh. I felt a little relieved after I told the doll maker my worst memory, but I was by no means happy. I started to fidget in my chair and stopped paying attention to the doll maker.

"Thank you," he said, but his tone was a bit different, as if he was smiling, but I didn't look at him. I asked him if I could step outside to get some fresh air, but he didn't reply. Without waiting for a response, I stepped outside and tried to calm myself.

I don't know how long I've stood outside, thinking about that night. I've lost the concept of time. It felt like only minutes have passed, but in reality, I think it's been an hour or so.

As I stood on the front porch, I heard heavy footsteps coming from behind. I turned around and saw something unusual. The doll maker stood in the doorway holding a cylinder box in his hand. The unusual thing was his expression. Instead of looking at me with that permanent scowl, he was now smirking.

"It's done. I hope you've learned something and that you'll enjoy this little souvenir."

I was a bit confused as he handed over the cylinder to me. I was hesitant to take it, but I knew that refusing it wasn't an option. So I took it and got ready to leave. When I turned around and walked down the stairs, the doll maker stopped me once again.

"Ah, ah, ahh. Aren't you forgetting something?"

I turned around nervously and tried to force a smile.

"T-thank you for your time and effort, sir. It's been a pleasure."

"You're welcome, Emily. Goodbye and good luck with your project."

Once he said that, I didn't waste a second before I started hauling ass back to my car. Before the car pulled away, I looked out the window and I saw that the doll maker was still smirking at me, but then he did something that made my blood run cold. He winked at me.

It's funny, but even a friendly gesture just like this made me not look back until I got home safely.

It took me the whole weekend to open that box. I just didn't have the guts to. That day, I sat in my room looking at that box for what felt like an eternity. I was constantly imagining what kind of horrible things the doll maker put in there. But this fear of the unknown was killing me, and I'd reached my breaking point.

I nervously opened the cap and looked inside. What I saw made my blood freeze and I fought the urge to cry helplessly.

It was a figure of clay resembling my dead best friend. Despite the small size, this recreation of her was perfect. The body, the posture, the hair, the face, and every minor detail was etched flawlessly into the figure. She was wearing the exact same clothes the last time I talked to her, and she had a look of shock on her face.

My hand never shook so hard. I left the figure on my bed and sat in the corner, hyperventilating. Eventually, my fear had disappeared and I drove back to the doll maker's workshop to confront him about this. I needed answers, and if that didn't work, I'd call the cops on that freak.

When I got up to the front porch, I noticed that the door was ajar. There was no open/closed sign, so I carefully stepped inside. My jaw dropped to the floor when I saw that nothing was there. The cabin was completely empty. The dolls and the shelves were gone, but the counter was still there.

As I looked around in shock, I noticed the doorway behind the counter leading into the workshop. Then I remember the mysterious blue door that the doll maker prevented me from opening. This was my chance to see what was on the other side.

I stepped into the room, but it was empty as well. But what I saw left me extremely dumbfounded and overwhelmed by hopelessness. There was no door in the workshop. It was just a smooth wooden wall.