The cold, damp basement of her workshop made Greta shiver as she continued to carve into the face of her latest creation. She tentatively chipped bits and pieces off, fearful that she might ruin her masterpiece. Since they first settled into the Americas, woodcarving was a skill that had been passed down her family for generations. Though in this modern day of cell phones, computers, and television, one hardly paid any attention to this craft, let alone partake in it as a profession. With many of the youths so engrossed with their video games or T.V. programs, one would guarantee her a failed business, yet here she was. Still flourishing like the days of old. Greta chuckled and thought to herself how silly the world had gotten with its technology. She paused for a moment and sat back to look over the marionette puppet on her workstation. Once she had finished designing the face, she could finish it off with paint.

Greta sighed and pinched the brow of her nose, “I suppose I could take a little break.”

She stood, wiped off any shavings lingering on her person, and then headed upstairs into her shop. She stopped at the threshold and marveled at all the wares ready for sale. Scenic reliefs, busts of well-known figures throughout history, figurines of animals and cartoon characters, keychains of common names, and many more all decorated her store. But of all her creations, the most she took pride in was her dolls.

They rested upon their shelves like the lifeless objects they were. The marionettes on one side, the ventriloquist dolls on the other, and the simple peg wooden dolls in the center. The sheer amount that adorned Greta’s shop would make one cringe. Their hollow gaze had always left an impression on her customers. Too many would be creeped out by their presence and would simply make a quick purchase to escape the unpleasant feeling her dolls left. But not her. She enjoyed being surrounded by them and cherished every moment she could spare.

Greta gazed out the shop’s windows and realized the sun was long gone. The few streetlights that lit up the small city street she was situated in showed no sign of life. Her fellow neighbors and businesses sharing her walls had clearly closed up for the day and gone off to bed. Given the late hour, she decided to turn in herself. She took the keys from her pocket and locked the shop’s main entrance. Before going off to bed, she always took her time in tidying up her dolls. The marionettes were the first to receive her attention, then the peg wooden dolls, and finally the ventriloquist dolls.

As Greta approached the ventriloquist dolls, she noticed a gap between them. A perfectionist at heart, she always made sure that all her dolls were neatly lined up with one another. Perhaps one had been sold earlier in the day? She could not recall. She could, however, tell which one was missing. One of the few female dolls dressed in a school uniform. She decided not to think too much of it being as late as it was. If anything, she could check her log of sales in the morning. For now, she rearranged the dolls to rid herself of the unsightly gap.

The moment Greta finished, the lights in the shop turned off, “A power failure?”

It was not uncommon. The fuses would occasionally get blown for no apparent reason. The thought of having to venture into the basement to access the breaker irritated her. She shuffled through the dark, taking great care not to knock any of her wares off their shelves. As she maneuvered through her shop, she stopped the moment she briefly heard the light pitter-patter of tiny feet. Had a child snuck in before she locked up?

“Hello?” Greta called out.

No answer.

Did she imagine the sound? She couldn’t say for sure. For now, she needed to get her flashlight and fix the breaker if she were to restore the light. She held her arms out to search for the front counter. Its familiar smooth surface reached her fingertips and she easily found her way to the drawer containing the item. She flicked it on and her heart skipped a beat. For a brief moment, she spotted a small figure on the other side of her shop, but it quickly disappeared the second the light touched it.

“I-is someone there?” Greta called.

Again, no answer.

The dark must be playing tricks on her eyes she thought. Greta tried to brush off the uneasiness that was creeping up on her but it was much harder than she thought. If she could restore the light, she would surely feel more at ease. She quickly made her way to the basement door and as soon as she crossed the threshold, she felt a tug on her ankle.

Before she knew it, she was tumbling down the stairs, the steps striking hard against her back, elbows, and shoulders. She face planted on the cold cement floor, the wind knocked from her. The sudden shock of the pain hit her all at once.

Greta’s body ached as she struggled to stand. She attempted to take one step but felt a sudden pain from her right ankle and fell to her knees. It must have twisted as she tumbled down the stairs. She cursed herself for being so careless and tried soothing her ankle with a light rub. It was then she felt something tangled around her foot. String. The same kind she used for her marionettes.

A light giggle startled her and she quickly picked up the flashlight to scan the area. The giggling continued and echoed all around. She could not pin point its location and just as it started, it suddenly stopped. The breaker was on the far wall opposite from the staircase. If she could just reach it, she could illuminate her surroundings and find whoever was tormenting her.

“Do you want to play?” a child’s voice asked beside her ear.

The sudden question at such close proximity sent a shock through Greta and she screamed. Not caring about restoring the light anymore, she frantically crawled up the stairs, ignoring the pain in her ankle. As she made her way into the shop, she decided to stand on her good foot and limp her way to the main entrance.

She slammed against the door and leaned on it for support as she searched her pockets for the keys. Empty. She desperately searched all over herself but could not find them. Where did she drop them?

She froze at the light clinking sound of her keys resonating by the basement’s entrance. She slowly turned her head to face the source and with shaky hands, shined her light on it. The female student ventriloquist doll was standing on its own, keys in hand, with a wide sinister grin across its face.

“Let’s play!” the doll cheered.

Greta screamed and hobbled away from the doll as quickly as possible. Her heart and mind raced with what to do next. She burst through the door leading to her apartment and scurried up the stairs as best she could.

The fire escape she thought. Her bedroom window led right out to it. She could make her way out there and call for help. With the bedroom door in sight, she could feel the hope for salvation within her grasp. She would enter her room, shut the door, lock it, and maybe block it with a piece of furniture. That would surely give her ample time to exit her home.

She opened the door and could see the window with the fire escape. A huge sense of relief washed over her as her freedom from this terror was within reach. The thoughts had distracted her from the object that swung down from above her door and straight into her chest. The sudden pain made her fall on her knees and lean against the door frame for support. She tried to reach for the object but only touched it briefly before her arm went limp. A knife. She fell on her back as her last thoughts lingered on the fact that a trap had been laid out for her. She spotted the doll one last time in the hall before her vision faded.

The doll stepped toward Greta’s lifeless body, leaned in close to her face, and tilted its head sideways, like a confused animal. In that moment, the blade plunged into her chest had begun to glow. Strange cryptic markings surfaced on its metallic surface then oozed its way onto the victim’s skin. When the letters had set, a bright, blinding flash illuminated the area. Once the light had faded, Greta sprang up and removed the knife from her chest, all the while laughing hysterically. Her wound sizzled and smoked as it healed itself, leaving her skin as smooth and clean like it was before.

Greta’s twisted gaze focused on the doll and she smiled wickedly, “Now that’s how it’s done!” She stood, rotating her ankle to verify that it too had healed.

The doll smiled back and held its arms up. Greta picked up the doll and twirled about with such glee one would forget the horrors that had transpired just moments before this joyous occasion. She cradled the doll as if it were her own child and, like a proud mother, kissed its forehead, “You are ready my little one.”

Greta carried the doll down the stairs and into the shop. Darkness was still encompassing the place and with a snap of her fingers, the lights turned on. All of her dolls were now standing on their shelves and watching their creator and sister walk to the front counter. She set the doll down for all her children to see, “Lily has passed.”

Her declaration summoned a round of applause that rumbled their tiny shop. Normally such a ruckus would alert her neighbors, but Greta was confident in the barrier she erected around her domicile. After all, she couldn’t have anyone realizing the witchcraft she had been practicing for centuries.

Lily bowed then turned to face her master. Greta presented the doll with a medallion. Its skull shaped design and ruby red eyes had an ominous aura. Lily took the trinket and hid it beneath her clothes.

Greta waved her hand and a light gust encircled Lily, “The next family will now choose you. Remember to take your time and clean up after yourself.” She surveyed the room, making note of each doll, “I don’t want any rebellious children in this house.” She then walked over to the door leading up to her apartment and paused before its threshold, “Oh! And if there’s an infant…” she turned to face Lily, wiping the drool that escaped her lips, “Bring it to me alive!”

Lily nodded then returned to her shelf. The dolls resumed their lifeless positions and waited for the next victims to arrive at their shop.