Dancing Doll

Chapter 1

Inspired by creepypasta character created by bleedingheartworks

00oo00

A pile of papers. All that was left of the woman from the now abandoned cabin at the edge of the wood.

How could someone leave so little an impact?

The detective sighed as he went through the paperwork, looking over the effects of the suicide.

The body had been there for some time, so it had been well into decomposition when the police had been called because a neighbor having not seen the home's resident in some time had gotten curious because of a bad smell.

He looked over again, the only real 'evidence' of a sort. A journal that had quite a fantasy life inside its pages.

The woman was one Valerie Booker.

And she had been completely alone in the world.

He saw pictures, testimonials from neighbors. She had been a perfectly nice and respectable girl. Seemed she like to sing while gardening, laughed often and smiled just as much. She fed the strays and volunteered during town activities whenever an extra set of hands were needed.

Why would someone like this take her own life?

From all the reports he had, she had lost everything, had fled to this cabin with what little she still had. Maybe to try a new life? Get a fresh start? But for all her friendly ways she didn't seem to make many friends. And despite everyone knowing about her laugh and smile, knowing she was dependable and quick to help anyone that needed it, no one in town seemed to have even really known her name, except her pharmacist. He knew her name only because he filled her prescriptions.

And maybe there was the key to the truth of the matter. Those prescriptions.

The girl was a cocktail of so many pills. It was a wonder she could keep up the smiles at all.

The David wondered just how honest those smiles must have been in truth? Were they just her pretense so she could continue to look normal for the town? A way to keep people away from her so they didn't ask too many questions? Like where she came from, who was she related to? So many questions people should have asked, but no one did.

Admittedly Detective David could also be counted among those that recalled only a laugh and a bright smile. And he could be counted among those who had had zero curiosity about the friendly girl who'd moved into town.

And that he realized was strange. So, strange. He picked up a photo, one that caught his eye. It was a crowd shot, taken during a fall carnival. She was holding a box, and laughing on one side, it was like she was talking to someone, but no one else was reacting to her.

Tapping his finger on the photo he turned it around and checked the date on the back and then warming up the scanner he scanned the photo.

Once on his aging computer he highlighted close to her, the direction she was looking towards.

It was like there was something there, in the shadows.

Highlighting the area he enhanced the photo, made it larger. Looking closer.

Was… that a glowing smile?

Disturbed he figured it was just his imagination, he set it aside and went back to the other photos. But finding himself noticing a trend. Always she smiled brightest towards the shadows. Always her eyes seemed drawn towards.. something.. not fully on camera.

David gulped, not sure why this disturbed him so. Why a trick of the light was bothering him. So he set that aside and went back to the journal.

Often it was nothing but things she wanted to remember. The date she moved into her house, recipes, taped in bits of seed packets and how well they grew for her, how she was debating getting chickens. She seemed to be another on that 'homesteading' trend. People who wanted to be a bit more self sufficient and less dependent upon all their food and supplies coming from stores. She didn't write much about her past, though now and then there was an entry. Marked often as dates with '5th anniversary'. Those dates when referenced showed deaths. All of them, people who she knew. Friends, family, lovers. Until as far as David could find, there was only her.

No wonder she had been taking so many meds.

According to the pharmacist she hadn't filled any of those meds in a couple months.

So, she was on so many antidepressants and other chemicals to keep her from going off the deep end, and according to the autopsy she either OD'ed herself on sleeping pills or was hung, maybe she did both?

Then there were other entries, that caught his eye.

Various dates with increasing regularity over several months.

December 15th

17th Anniversary.

This one he found seemed to be her parents, who died in a car crash caused by a drunk driver. She had been about 15 years old from what he could figure subtracting dates. But there was a bit more to the entry than just the date.

Hey mom, I think I met someone tonight! I'm rather excited, I moved to this town last year hoping maybe I could make some friends, people I don't have to get too close to, so maybe they won't die anymore. But its rather lonely just staying a distance. I do like you said though, and I practice every morning smiling. It gets easier. Like you promised it would.

But I met this guy, he is a little odd, but dark haired with the most beautiful golden eyes. He was near the wood and watching me garden. I said good evening and he hadn't moved, just, smiled.

I smiled back and he asked me if it hurt.

I really didn't get it, but, maybe missing you made my smile slip. I told him it was OK really. He was just, so calm. It was kind of odd… well.. no. Nevermind. Anyway, when I asked him he name he wasn't there anymore, but I have a feeling I might see him again.

David frowned. Someone with dark hair and golden eyes? That didn't sound like anyone in town. Most were light or brown haired in this area and he'd only ever read about people with golden eyes. He gave a quick flip through the journal and in the back a photo fell out, picking it up he saw it was Valerie, smiling. She was knelt in her garden and giving a peace sign after what was obviously a good harvest. He unconsciously found himself smiling at the photo. There was just something so infectious about that grin. He tucked the photo back into the book.

Checking the time he was close to the end of his shift so he boxed up the remains and put the files and photos in the box to go down to the evidence room. This was a closed case anyway, it was clearly suicide.

There was no reason for him to be concerned about what was obviously the results of a delusional mind.

00oo00

Several days later David was standing by as the woman's ashes were interned in a communal tomb at the cemetery. As they closed the lid for a moment, he could almost swear he heard laughter. Tinkling infectious and happy.

He frowned looking around himself and found himself staring towards the shadows at the edge of the wood, did he just see a swish of a skirt? A faint voice singing and.. glowing eyes….

David was brought out of his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder, he turned to see the funeral director. So he set the flowers down on the top of the stone case as another tiny plaque was added to the side. "We found a few things in her pockets that I think your people must have missed when she was brought here." He said holding out a small envelope. David took it and frowned. He had been sure that everything had been gone over. And usually once a body had been autopsied they had destroyed the garments if there were any and so there would have been nothing on the body.

"It was quite nice of your people to have dressed her up like that. Looked almost like one of those porcelain dolls." The director said. "A shame she was cremated, she would have had a pretty open coffin if there had been anyone to come to her funeral."

David felt like he'd been pole axed "Did they send the right body?" he thought to himself. He'd seen the body before she'd been bagged and brought it. She had been well on the way to decomposition. Maggots in her flesh. There had been no way someone could have called that a 'pretty corpse'. Even her broken neck had been stiffened from the effects of rigor mortis.

Back at the station he checked, and indeed the correct body had been sent out. Deciding that the director might have just messed up who was who at the funeral home he shrugged and went on with his day. Partway through he had sat down and something rumpled in his pocket. Pulling it out he blinked.

It was the photo, he wasn't sure who took it but it was of Valerie, knelt in her garden, smiling huge and holding up a peace sign. He gulped, as he recalled he'd seen this particular picture before. She had a basket full of huge vegetables she'd been gathering, but what caught his eye wasn't so much the scene of a garden and happy face, no it was the shadows of the garden shed behind her, pressed up against the forest.

And the strange smiling face in shadow. It was as if the figure in the photo was there, with her, but something was twisted, out of whack.

He could only make out, glowing eyes and the glowing smile.

Disturbed he put the photo down and got up, hurrying down to the files and coming back up with that box of Valerie's case.

He pulled out the journal, the photos. Going through them quickly and with a red pen he began to circle the same glowing eyes, always in the shadows, and always close to Valerie. He could put them in order, some of the photos dated, some not, but he noticed how that figure seemed to get clearer the more recent the photo was taken.

He pulled over the journal and flipped quickly to the back. There was an empty space, where a photo had been, but the photo was missing. Did someone take it? Decided to send it to be on her for the cremation and the director decided against it?

He looked at what had been written, over the spot the photo should have been stuck.

Me and my Friend

It was dated just a few days before her death.

He glanced at the remaining pages of the journal. Most were empty except the last one, where her neat hand scrawled a message.

My friend, my Puppetman, he says I won't have to be alone anymore and no one will ever have to die again who I don't want to have die anymore.

And neither of us will be lonely. He will always be my undying friend and I will be his doll.

He felt such a chill down his spine. It was as if the station grew very cold, and the shadows got very deep.

He gulped and felt himself shake as he could… hear humming. Just a cheerful happy tune, steps behind him like someone was dancing.

"Hey David, want some coffee?"

He turned, seeing the new kid by the door, he held a couple cups of coffee and held one up in invitation for the detective.

"Oh sure." He went over, taking the cup and glad for the warmth.

He really needed to get his head on straight. Packing up the box again he pushed it to the side of the table and turned his attention to cases that were not finished as this one was.

But he could hear that happy giggling in the back of his mind.