The House With The Dolls

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I would often ride past the large house on the corner of the long, windy country road. Every time I rode past it, I would glance up at the balcony at all the dolls that were in there.

One day, I had a puncture right outside the large secluded house, and I had forgotten my puncture kit.

I looked up at the black painted balcony and all the dolls. They were brightly coloured with pigtails and of various shapes and sizes. I stood there for a moment mesmerised by the dolls; there was something not quite right.

I had no alternative, but to knock on the door and to see if I could borrow their phone. I really did not want to go into this house; I had a very negative feeling that I should not be here, but on the other hand, I felt that it was fate that brought me here.

I knocked on the large, solid wood door and within seconds the door was opened as though they were expecting me.

I was greeted by a very small, meek-looking woman, around 70. Her bent figure and downbeat demeanour made her look older than what she probably was.

She gesticulated to me to come in. The house was large with a wooden staircase and brightly polished wooden floors. The ceiling was high with decadent candelabras’ hanging from it. There were many pictures on the walls of men and women from preceding centuries dressed in different styles of attire.

“How can I help you?” The woman said.

“I was wondering if I could please use your phone, as my bike has a puncture and I am unable to repair it.”

“I am afraid I don’t have a phone.”

“Oh ok, you can’t really help me then, I will have to walk back with my bike.”

“How far do you live?”

“I live about five miles.”

“You can’t walk that far, it is starting to get dark. Why don’t you sleep here for tonight and then go back tomorrow when it is light?”

I peered outside the window, it was getting dark, and I was in the middle of nowhere without any street lamps. It would be quite dangerous to walk back.

“Ok that would be very kind of you, I hope I am no trouble?”

“No trouble at all, I will show you to your room, you can shower, and I’ll get you some fresh clothes, then we will eat.”

The woman showed me to my room, which was very large with a king size bed. I took off my sweaty gear and took a shower.

When I came out of the shower there were some freshly pressed clothes laying on the bed. I lifted the clothes up with their coat hangers. There was a 50’s style short-sleeve shirt with long pointy collars and a pair of turned-up grey trousers with a crease that would cut your finger.

I started to feel very sleepy, so I decided to lay on the bed and shut my eyes.

I was alerted by a crying like many little girls. I tried to ignore it thinking it was maybe the trees creaking, but it persisted, and I could not ignore it anymore. My curiosity got the better of me and I ventured out into the corridor. The crying appeared to be coming from the room in the corner of the landing. I crept very slowly towards the door. I was just about to open the door when the old woman shouted, beckoning me down for food.

The table was laid out as though I was a special guest. There was a beautiful floral patterned tablecloth, which looked very old, and an array of silver cutlery.

“They suit you the clothes.” The woman said.

“You needn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

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