Unreal Part 3 - FREE AND DISGUISED: (THRILLER ROMANCE AND MYSTERY) Page 25

  Dawn’s hands tightened round the straps of her backpack. She thought about the contents, and tried not to wonder whether or not they’d have any effect. The doll was here somewhere, watching, and if she let herself feel any shred of doubt she was sure it would know.

  “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d be this stupid,” the doll said. Its voice seemed to be all around, filling up the whole space, and Dawn felt the black air shudder. “I mean, I set this whole trap up to wait for you, but it was just so obvious that there’s no way you’d actually take the bait...unless you had some sort of plan.”

  The doll giggled. “Are you going to try and cheat to end the game without losing? Now that you’ve come to me, I’ve technically already won. And that means that your life is forfeit to my will.”

  “What do you have in the bag, Dawn?”

  The voice was right in her ear, and then far away again, booming.

  “Are you going to kill me, little girl?”

  Fingers raked against her scalp and pulled her hair away from her in yanking handfuls.

  Dawn stumbled, her feet twisting around one another. Her backpack fell and skittered forward, away from her. It didn’t make a sound as it hit the ground--and then it was fine, swallowed up before her. She groped desperately before her, heart pounding, but touched nothing. Felt nothing.

  Dawn faded.

  It was as she was falling into a state of slumber that her memories came back to her with a quiet clarity.

  That’s the joke, Dawn realized with a weakening sense of alertness. The great irony.

  It wasn’t until she wouldn’t be able to recall what was and wasn’t only a dream that all of the important facts she had forgotten would come rushing back to her. Everything she needed to know, handed to her on a silver platter, but it would slip away from her again when she woke up. As soon as she’d be in a position to use them, Dawn knew, they’d become useless.

  Dawn was lonely.

  She was small and her father was at work, and he had left her at their new house surrounded by hastily-labeled boxes and unfamiliar smells. There was no phone to be harassed by, and she knew better than to open the door to strangers. She would stay safe, locked inside, but that didn’t comfort her. Dawn was old enough now to understand that she had no friends. She had nobody to turn to. How much worse would it get?

  “I don’t want to be alone,” she told the sad, empty house.

  The house didn’t offer her a reply. It didn’t even creak in consolation, though the air seemed to grow colder and heavier at her words.

  “I’ll be your friend,” a voice said.

  It was coming from under her bed. At first, Dawn felt afraid. She remembered once at a public school she had gone too briefly, a girl had told her that monsters lived under beds. The girl had been aghast when Dawn told her that her father never checked under beds and in closets for monsters.

  “What else are daddies for?” she had asked, shaking her head like a disappointed sage.

  Dawn hadn’t had an answer. She had thought the whole thing was rather silly, overall--at least until this moment.

  “Who said that?” Dawn asked.

  “Just me,” the voice replied. “I’m nobody scary. I want to be your friend. Will you talk to me for a while?”

  “Okay,” Dawn agreed with a measure of hesitation, shifting from one foot to the other. “But you have to come out so we can talk face to face.”

  “I can’t come out,” the voice said. It sounded sad. “I’m very tired and very stuck. You’ll need to pull me out yourself.”

  Dawn agreed, but not without a measure of hesitation. She held her breath when she went down to her knees and checked under the bed. To her relief, there were no jaws or claws ready to snap at her and gobble her up. There was only a small, dust-covered figure nearly too far away for her to reach. When Dawn pulled it free, she found it was a doll. It was a cute thing, with a happy smile and a felted dress.

  “Look closer,” the doll said. “I’m not really a doll at all, even if I look that way.”

  “How do you look?” Dawn asked.

  The doll giggled, clucking her tongue in mock disappointment. “That’s not a question I can answer for you in words! What do you see when you look at me? What am I to you?”

  Dawn squinted, looking hard at the doll she had propped up against the headboard. As she did, its image morphed. The hair that had been made of yarn grew and curled and became real. Its coarse fabric skin became smooth, warm flesh, and its single stitch of a mouth cracked open to reveal real, beautiful teeth inside.

  “You’re a girl,” Dawn said, delighted. “You’re not very different from me at all.”

  The girl seemed impressed. She looked at her hands as if she was seeing them for the first time. “It’s only when we’re alone,” she agreed, “but yes. It seems that I am! How fun. What’s my name, Dawn Peck?”

  That one was easy--and Dawn told her exactly what her name would always be. The girl-doll pulsed with warmth and life as if the name had changed the circumstances of her existence.

  That was when the memory left, and Dawn was no longer a little girl or even a human being any longer. She was simply asleep, in a place where there were no dreams. There was no telling if she would ever remember any of it at all--or if she would ever have the chance to try.

  CHAPTER 8

  The doll stood, and looked at her hands. They were fleshy and warm and had fingers that wiggled. She brought them up to touch her face--the smile that formed had an actual mouth and actual lips. Her laugh was not her own, but it made real sound that pierced the air and startled a black bird sitting above her in the rafters of the old warehouse.

  Her eyes twinkled as she watched it fly away, cawing. Animals had never liked her; they had known something was wrong with her as a doll, moving or otherwise, and they knew something was wrong with her now, inhabiting a human girl. Animals were too smart. That’s why she hated them.

  People, though: she loved people. They were stupid and moldable. Only a few of them ever paid enough attention to notice when things weren’t right in the seemingly normal.

  Dawn was a stupid girl. That was why she lost their game. There had been countless opportunities for her to win, even with the twists and turns that had been thrown at her. Still, now it was done. Now the doll was in charge.

  Now, the doll was Dawn--and Dawn would never be anything ever again.

  “Maybe I’ll be nice,” the new Dawn thought aloud, “and give your body back to you when it grows feeble and weak.”

  She laughed again, delighting in the warmth of her cheeks.

  “Mine,” she affirmed, stretching out her legs before she started to walk out of the warehouse, and into the morning sun. “All of this life is mine, and my name is Dawn Peck.”

  And nobody would ever stop her from being Dawn Peck, because there was nobody else who would learn her real name.

  Dawn’s father knew, but she had him locked away where he’d never see the light of day again. The only person who would’ve been able to free him was the pesky woman with the warded house that had kept her at bay for so long, but Dawn had helped expose her weak spot, and now she was gone, too. For the first time in hundreds of years, she was free to walk the Earth, and free to have fun.

  The new Dawn did plan on having fun. She planned on having fun with the whole city, and then after that, when she got bored, maybe the whole state, the whole country, the whole world.

  And she’d gobble up anyone who refused to play with her.

  CHAPTER 9

  Roger wasn’t sure how long he waited outside of the warehouse for Dawn to appear. Several times he considered going in after her, but her words kept him away from the rusted door, staring at the darkness that seeped from where she had left it ajar. He paced up and down the street and always kept an eye on the door so he could jog back the second Dawn emerged.

  When she did, he completely missed her. Roger looped back around for the umpteenth time to find Dawn st
anding just inside the warehouse, peering out from the crack that had been left in the door. It was as if she had been there for ages, waiting for him to say something. When he came closer, she leaned against the opening and began to swing the door idly.

  Roger greeted her just outside, his face the perfect display of relief. “I thought you were a goner for sure,” he sighed. “Don’t scare me like that, Dawn.”

  She was going to have to remember that she was Dawn. And everything that Dawn had been, she now had all to herself. She knew this boy. The previous Dawn had loved him, maybe—only didn’t know it. She supposed she could see why. He wasn’t unattractive, though he could certainly use some work.

  “I’m fine, Roger,” she said as she sifted through the memories of him. She left them swish around in her brain like they were of a vintage to be savored. “There wasn’t anything in here after all. The thing we chased must have passed straight through and left us in the dust. We got all worked up for nothing.”

  Roger pried the door open farther and held it for her, ever the gentleman. Now that the color was returning to his face, Dawn really could see why he was so popular.

  Still, she couldn’t move forward. Not with the line of salt he had placed at the entrance. It was perfect, and unbroken, and there was nothing she could do to cross it; she was trapped. Staring down at it, Dawn frowned.

  “Did I tell you to do it that way?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I must have said it wrong--that’s no good at all. If there really had been a threat here, it would’ve been able to pass through without any problems. Here, gather up the salt with your hands and I’ll show you how to do it the right way.”

  “You aren’t Dawn.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m Dawn.”

  “She told me you’d try to trick me. You’ve just...you’ve just disguised yourself.”

  “I’m Dawn and I’ll prove it. Ask me anything and I’ll answer. But make the questions good ones; I don’t want to waste any more time. We need to find this thing for real--or at least regroup somewhere not in the open so we’re not taken off guard.”

  She savored the look of doubt on his face. “Well,” he murmured, “maybe I’m being paranoid. This whole thing has me so freaked out.”

  Roger bent and scooped a fistful of salt. Most of it fell out again between his fingers; he couldn’t seem to retain the focus long enough to form a proper grip.

  That didn’t matter. Dawn didn’t hesitate. She was outside as soon as the line had been obscured. Roger seemed to understand his mistake as soon as she darted past him, his face going even paler than before. His entire body was tensed beneath the weight of the panic that threatened to crush him.

  Roger whirled around and stumbled in an attempt to regain his footing, reaching toward her. She dodged his salt-covered fingers with ease.

  “You trust far too blindly. I thought you’d press harder. You must really like Dawn.” A smile stretched across her face. “Or, well, me, now. I am Dawn, now. Not just a shallow copy.”

  The former doll spread her hands out at her sides, her smile becoming sinister. “This body is the real deal...and it’s all mine.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Roger reacted without rhyme or reason. He flung the salt forward, aiming at Dawn’s face. He could only hope that she’d forgive him when the doll’s spirit left her body. Dawn let out a shriek and recoiled. For a second, her face flashed something black and terrible and unreal--and then, when she focused her attention on him, the look only got worse.

  She lunged, her teeth sharp and unreal and her eyes red like pits of blood. Roger stumbled backward, falling down on his back. She was on him in an instant, hands clawing toward him.

  Roger cringed back, screaming, covering his face, but she never landed a hit. When he opened his eyes she hovered above him with an angry, confused expression stuck on her face.

  “Why can’t I touch you?” she asked in a screech.

  Roger wasn’t sure how he thought of the answer. It was as if he had gone on autopilot, his brain having locked itself up in panic. He reached into his pocket and found the pendant that Dawn had given him. Without thinking, he slammed it upward, into the soft flesh of her neck.

  She fell backwards, reeling and screeching. The metal had adhered to her skin, smoking, turning the veins beneath it black.

  The thing was out of her in seconds, clawing upward and outward from her mouth, a black mass of smoke and ooze and evil. It reeled up as the pendant clattered to the ground and shattered, leaving Dawn hacking and trembling on the sidewalk. It grew a mouth full of jagged daggers for teeth, and growled and hissed. It coiled, eyes like smoldering embers boring down into Roger’s, but before it had the chance to lunge forward and strike him, the overcast sky parted. The sun bore through it like a lance, and with a horrifying shriek of pain and terror, the thing was gone—dissolved.

  At least, that was what Roger thought, at first.

  It had been reduced to nothing more than a shred of what it had been, its power gone beneath the onslaught of the pendant’s magic and the light of the sun. A single worm of blackness darted frantically toward Dawn, as if to sneak back into the vessel that it had just been cast from.

  Acting quickly, Roger jumped to his feet and yanked her up with him, not taking the time to be gentle. Dawn groaned in protest; her whole body deadweight. Regardless, her eyes snapped down to what was left of the monster. All at once the life returned to her. She pulled Roger back with her, away from it.

  “Lilith,” she said, weakly. “I remember. Your name is Lilith. You’re my Lilly. Go back to where you came from. This game is over.” With shaking hands, she found the rest of the salt in Roger’s backpack and sent it raining down on the creature.

  Like a slug in agony, it sizzled and popped and writhed—and then it was gone, melted down into the cracks of the cement.

  Just like that, relief set in. Dawn and Roger slumped heavily against one another, sliding down into an exhausted heap on the sidewalk.

  “She’s really gone,” Dawn sighed. “Did you feel it? We beat her.”

  “Yeah,” Roger agreed. He found her hand and squeezed it without thinking. “It was a little anti climatic at the end, but I’m not complaining. I’m glad it was so easy.”

  For a long moment, Dawn said nothing. “Not easy,” she finally admitted. Her voice was sad.

  “Where ever she put my father…”

  She didn’t have to finish the rest of the thought. The man was trapped, and they had no clues as to where he was. Her aunt was gone now, and she was alone. Or, so she thought.

  “We’ll find him together,” Roger said. His voice had a steely determination she hadn’t heard in him before. “That thing was powerful, but not enough that it was able to survive on its own. That means it couldn’t have taken him far. There are only so many places secluded enough for him to be.”

  Dawn squeezed his hand back and smiled.

  “Together,” she agreed.

  Together, they stood.

  Here is a sample from another story that you may enjoy:

  1

  The sun was shining brightly in the sky and it was a perfect summery day. There were no clouds, and the golden rays swept across the earth in a brilliant radiant blaze. Yet for Melissa it was the worst day in her entire life. She was dressed all in black and gathered with others at the funeral of her boyfriend, Captain Steven Hunt. The hat she wore had a small veil designed to hide the tears that streamed out of her, but she shook and trembled with such fierce emotion that everyone could see how devastated she was. The minister spoke his words and read from the bible. Since childhood Melissa didn't think much of religion or god, but hearing the words did provide some comfort, and she at least hoped that Steven was in a better place. She just wished that she could be with him.

  The coffin was a long wooden box, but it seemed shorter than she thought it would. It didn't matter anyway because it was only for show. The accident that had cost St
even his life hadn't left any remains. It completely obliterated the area he was in, so Melissa couldn't even say goodbye properly. For so long she had fought the idea that he was dead but eventually she had to accept it, although it caused great anguish in her soul. Everything seemed so far away, and all she could do was stare at the coffin. Mark, Steven's step-brother, had to nudge Melissa to keep her focused. She walked up to the minister and placed her hand on the coffin as she did so. Her legs were so weak that every step was an effort and she was worried that she was going to stumble to the ground. Leading up to the day, she had practiced the words she wanted to say for a perfect goodbye to Steven, but she was so overwhelmed that when she looked down at her notes they became stained with tears and the ink ran down.

  “T-thank you all for coming,” she stammered out softly, “I know it would have meant a lot to Steven to see you all here, and it means a lot to me. Steven was a wonderful man and he gave his all to his country. I just...I just wish that he could still be here. He did his duty, he saved those people and he paid the ultimate price. I'll never forget him and he'll always...he'll always be in my heart. Oh, Steven, I miss you so much,” she said, and collapsed into tears. The speech she had written fell to the floor and she started to cry loudly. The minister placed a comforting arm around her and drew her into him. An awkward murmur ran through the rest of the crowd as they watched this raw outpouring of emotion, and they shifted in their seats, but that was all they did.

  Eventually Melissa dried her eyes and took her seat.

  “Are you sure you can handle this?” Mark said, leaning in so that he could whisper in her ear. Melissa sniffed and nodded, then placed her hands in her lap. At this point a number of uniformed soldiers stood up and marched to the grave. They faced away from the crowd and raised their rifles while two more soldiers rested an American flag on the coffin. An officer faced the crowd.