Remnant

Maise

Alyssa ran swiftly down the darkened stairwell, screaming profanities at her father, who had since ceased chasing her. This part of the house was strange. It never stayed quite the same every time she visited. Alyssa stepped into the black void of the basement and flipped the light switch. A single bulb hanging from the ceiling was illuminated at the flip of the switch, shedding light on the sleeping figure of the groundskeeper, which was strewn out on a scarlet-stained, rickety, old bed. Scattered about the room were small animal topiaries, broken toys, and various objects Alyssa's father had thrown away. Unbeknownst to him, she had salvaged those items and brought them down to this eerie, abandoned Utopia she created with her mind.

Alyssa stepped into the room, feeling a wave of familiarity wash over her. At the foot of the bed (the centerpiece of the room) was a small doll. The doll's eyes were blackened and dark tears ran down the sides of her porcelain face. She looked to be in a constant state of distress, evident from the look on her delicate face and the unsettling emptiness of her missing eyes. Though very disconcerting to any outsider, Alyssa loved this doll dearly. She made her way to the bed, grabbing the doll and sitting down on the bed behind the unconscious man.

"Maise, what am I to do..." Alyssa stared ahead blankly, clutching Maise to her chest.

The soft breathing of the groundskeeper lifted her out of her thoughts for a moment and she glanced at him. Was it his breathing? Could it have been? She didn't know. How could she know? The house in which she lived was full of lies. When the maids revealed to her that the groundsman, Richard, had passed away of a heart attack while he was performing his duties, she believed them. Yet, here he was, laying on the bed next to her, sleeping peacefully next to Maise all the time. She pondered over his existence as she glared at the man with a hard stare. Many questions running through her mind.

Finally giving up on her pursuit of this unattainable truth, she held Maise out and looked down at her, examining the delicate features of her doll's face. More blackened tears seemed to fall from the doll's face, but Alyssa knew that couldn't be. Maise was just an object, nothing more.

"Stop playing tricks on me, Maise! I can't handle any more," she cried out in anguish, bringing the doll back to her chest and embracing her tightly.  Maise was cold and lifeless, but unsettlingly present in a higher sense than physical.  She seemed taken aback by the child's distress, but that couldn't possibly be true, as she was simply a doll.

A loud yell was heard from upstairs and Alyssa jumped as screams of anger from her parents and siblings echoed through the basement, making her ears ring.  The poor girl's face turned even more pale and her blue eyes shone with fear.  She set Maise down on the bed and walked over to the stairwell, terrified of her family.

As Alyssa practically crawled up the stairs, the light above Maise, who was on the bed, burnt out. Sparks flew from the exposed wire and set the bedspread ablaze. The gardener did not stir one bit as the bed burned, but rather was lit aflame and burned along with the bed. Maise, however, did not catch fire or even scorch. She remained unscathed as the intense blaze around her finally subsided, having nowhere to go, despite the dusty, unkempt nature of the room. When the fire was finally out, there sat Maise, still spilling the black substance from her eyes and frowning ever so slightly into the darkness. All that could be seen of her was a small patch of light that was shone on her face.

In the dim lighting, one could almost swear that Maise was alive and breathing.  The charred body behind her seemed to 'breathe' as well.  Something about this doll was very wrong.  However, despite her unnerving nature, Alyssa loved her and shared a bond with her that only a child and her doll could have.