Strings

Chapter 8

 They say that certain situations separate the men from the real ones, and those who are simply good at staging themselves as men. Situations included getting stranded on an island, getting hostaged, and in some cases getting kidnapped. No one mentioned, that having an encounter with a female doll that for some xxxxxx up reason, suddenly comes to life, and speaks to you, was one of them.

 Certainly, even if he wasn't as manly as most men were, Jack could easily tell, that scrambling like a chickenxxxx, and rushing out of a room after a doll just spoke to him, wasn't really manly in any matter in the history of manliness. But Jack was in no position to call himself a coward at the moment, even though his previous actions just proved that he was in the slightest.

 His position as of the moment, was at the top of the stairs that lead to the basement. Now, he really was breathless, mostly from what he just saw and heard, rather than running all the way up a set of stairs in a matter of seconds. As he stood there at the top, the thought of running out of the store, as any sane man would have done (already) kept crossing his mind, but he does no such thing. Partly because a part of him was still deciding whether if what he saw was real or a trick of his mind.

 It has already been made known that Jack was an avid drinker. And, like all the effects associated with alcohol, Jack has experienced hallucinations before. Psychedelic ones even. The kind that was usually, if not often, instigated by drugs rather than spirits. Regardless, Jack has had his fair share of seeing things that aren't there. He's even added up his so-called depression as one of the factors to this, which Dr. Mallerd has proven to him before.

 But there was a problem. Jack had been sober the last couple of days. And that was almost impossible, given that Jack drinks, almost everyday. But he knew, that he wasn't reeking of gin when he woke up that morning. The gin was still freezing away inside his refrigerator. And Jack knows, better than anyone, that he hasn't touched it at all. Though, one can never be too sure, and Jack wasn't sure of himself either. Almost mechanically, Jack's feet were slowly making their way back down the steps.

 His mind was rejecting his body, but for some reason he kept going. And going, and going, until he was up to the door and he could hear the rustling from the other side. Sweat profusely ran down his face, as his slightly trembling hand lay against the door. The rustling kept going on from the other side, getting louder in fact. "It knows I'm right outside." Jack thought, his breath slowly coming out in small pants. Body reacting on its own for an unsaid argument's sake, Jack pushed the door open.

 The effort he exerted was enough to open it the whole way. It even made a loud squeaking sound, just to be a piece of xxxx, like in all horror movies. Taking a slow step forward, Jack's eyes darted from opposite directions of the room for a quick scan. Nothing was there, so he took another step into--

"Hello?"

 Paralleling his actions from before, Jack gave another unmanly shout, recoiling in a fast speed only possible when a person was completely terrified or startled. This time he had backed up against the desk, rattling the pictures there, and bumping his head against the shelves.

 He panted unevenly as he stared at the floor, where, in a complete mess of itself, the doll was lying. Now Jack knew that he wasn't seeing things. He just gained hard bumps on his lower back, elbows, and head. There was no way that he was hallucinating now.

"Oh my God!!" He gasped.

 Jack could feel his heart rate getting faster, thundering against his chest painfully, he could expect a heart attack at any moment.

 "Please.."

 Jack's eyes then glued to the doll, whose wooden arms and legs were stirring stiffly on the floor.