Dancing Doll
Chapter 2
Inspired by creepypasta character created by bleedingheartworks
00oo00
David sat in his favorite chair, slowly loading his gun. Dressed down to just his undershirt and slacks, his bare feet covered in dirt and minor cuts. He could feel the cold sweat running down the back of his neck.
And a cheerful song being sung, such a strange and wrong sound at this moment. With his house so cold and the only light a single lamp giving a golden glow that was in no way comforting. On the table before the lamp was a photo, with its shadowed figure and the smiling face of the woman in her garden.
He sent the cylinder spinning and then stopped it with his hand on the side of it. He rested his forehead against the cool shaft of the weapon, taking a strange sort of comfort. As behind him he could hear steps, like someone was dancing.
When he heard two sets of steps, he knew it would soon be all over.
It's time to no longer be alone…
00oo00
David kept finding himself coming back to the box and the case. Not really by choice, but because one thing kept bothering him. The dark-haired golden eyed man and the fact that that blasted picture kept showing up where ever he went!
David said nothing about it, but he was beginning to wonder if he needed a vacation. He had the photo memorized by this point. Every feature of it and yet whenever he looked that figure in the shadows seemed to be getting more detailed somehow.
He glared at the photo holding it up to the light and taking a lighter he set the edges on fire. Watching the colors bubble and warp as the flames went from slow to fast, and letting it go, what hit the ground was nothing but ash. Which he stepped on smearing into the precinct's parking lot just to be sure.
A giggle made him turn around eying the shadows wearily.
He nearly jumped out of his skin as a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Hey, David? What's up man?" it was one of the guys from the file room. He forced himself to relax, a twitch in his cheek like a nervous tick.
"Oh hey um," he blanked on the fellow's name. Why did he just blank on his name? He knew all the guys in the station, why did he just blank?
He reached up rubbing his face.
"David, you don't look so good," the guy told him with concern.
"Sorry, I'm just still hung up a bit on a case from a couple months ago." He put his hands into his pockets of his coat and paused, feeling a sudden chill, as if someone just took a cold wire and twisted it around his throat.
"Oh the suicide? I mean, it was a sad thing, seriously, she had such a cute smile. Thought about asking her out a time or two myself. But hey, well can't get hung up on the past. It's a closed case, don't let it get to you." And he gave his shoulder a squeeze and went on.
David looked down at shaking hands as he uncurled his fist, "I wish I could…" he said softly "It seems this case won't let go of me" in his hand, the edges burned the ink slightly bubbling, was the photo.
00oo00
He was feeling like he was running out of time, something was hanging on, something wanted him to know maybe? Or was he thinking too much Hollywood? He knew everything he could about the woman, and still he knew even less about her golden eyed stranger.
For Valerie had one of those 'eventful' lives. From a young age it almost seemed as if she was curse, everyone she was attached to died. All those dates he looked up, none of it was the girl. These people died of plane crashed, drunk drivers, freak accidents and natural causes. Her grandparents of old age, her parents with drunks, her best friend died during a routine operation, her brother was crushed to death by a fallen pillar at a work site. She'd been engaged as least once that he could find and had a couple boyfriends.
And yet everyone she cared for ended in death.
Some of it she had written about, he took it just for her insanity at first but as time gone on he was beginning to wonder. How she spoke about those she knew, friends, family, how much she missed them, and how lonely she was. How she didn't let herself get close to anyone anymore.
Then she started speaking about him. Her 'puppetman' who seemed to have a thing for dolls and from her writing said he was going to make her into one of his best.
There had been no fear her in writing, just a sort of sad lonely acceptance, and almost an excitement at the prospect that it would all end soon.
And this disturbed him more. How could anyone be so calm about the idea of being stalked by what was obviously a deranged killer? How could she call him her friend?
David didn't understand and it was beginning to haunt his dreams.
A constant singing, movement in the shadows.
It was as if someone was slowly drawing him into a dance and he wanted nothing to do with it.
But he was being given no choice.
00oo00
He hardly slept now. David couldn't remember the last time he ate, his only drink had been beer and whiskey.
No one called.
He kept glancing at his phone, wondering when work would call. When was the last time he'd been in?
Oh yeah, he was on medical leave. Had a breakdown a few weeks ago at a murder scene.
Been that guy, what was his name again? From filing.
Last he heard they were still trying to find all the piece of him. They were ruling it suicide.
It was the most fucked up suicide David had ever seen.
He kept blanking on the guy's name, even when he was staring right at it.
Why the hell couldn't he remember the guy's name?
It was when he heard someone humming a cheerful tune, and when he looked up he saw glowing eyes and a smile to match from the shadows.
Be calm.
"I WILL NOT BE FUCKING CALM!"
And now like then, something hit the wall, he heard the shattering of glass. Stepping back he winced as he stepped on bit of shattered glass that had scattered along the wooden floor back towards him. He looked to see what he'd broken, some stupid candy dish his mother had sent him last Christmas, and part of the window.
A cold breeze was already making its way into the house. But outside seemed oddly, dark, somehow.
And around him there was giggling.
00oo00
It had to stop. It all had to stop. David wasn't even sure where he was now. Just somewhere.
He was outside. The asphalt under his feet was freezing, well likely because he wasn't wearing any shoes.
Or a jacket.
Rubbing his face David tried to remember what the hell happened. Last he recalled he'd tried to watch some TV, the still broken window leaking in cold air that it didn't matter how high he'd turned his thermostat it was still freezing in his place.
So he'd just given up and didn't bother, it was a waste of money anyway.
There was some little annoyingly cheerful tinkling tune from a commercial when he realized that the TV was on mute. That he was hearing a song and a voice giggling and humming.
Dance! Come dance with me!
The feeling was so.. inviting, elating, it cut through the morose and fog of the last few days, or had it been weeks? David didn't know, his calendar said it was September, but it felt too cold. He was pretty sure there was snow outside.
He had stood up and not quite in his vision, but all around him as he turned, trying to see it, a figure. Pale, ethereal, entreating, and in white, danced.
And the song went on. Inviting him to join, to dance now, and forever.
"NO!" and he dove out his door, about took it off its hinges.
He had to get out of here, he was just going crazy.
But now he stood in the middle of a road, not sure where he was at. Trees all around him, no houses, no lights, and it was starting to snow.
Are you alone?
It was static sounding, male, and David turned slowly. He could make out the golden eyes and the smile clearly.
And soon he could make out more. Grey skin, black on black on black in terms of clothing. Someone who looked both old and young.
Who smiled at him, like he knew a great joke and would let David in on it if he just came closer.
Became his friend.
David shook, this was him. The Dark haired puppet man that Valerie had spoken of.
"You were behind…. GREG!" finally the name came to him, "And Valerie, and the other suicides!"
They call me the puppeteer
He seemed to almost sing and took a step towards him. Smiling so calmly like he was in a joke and about to let his best buddy David in on one too.
David wasn't about to let himself be in on this joke. Because he had a feeling he wouldn't like the punch line.
"Fuck off, you ain't any 'buddy' of mine!" and he ran.
Ran past the shadow man. And dancing on his heels was a giggling laughter. A twisted mockery of the girl he'd found in that journal and those photos.
00oo00
He turned and found the Puppetman dancing with the Doll, the woman looked more girlish and innocent.
A lie. All of it was a lie.
He turned his gun and fired.
But then he was firing at ghosts.
The Puppeteer did not seemed pleased though his smile never wavered. It was like golden strings suddenly burst forth.
David screamed as one wrapped around his arm and pulled back with a snap. His shoulder making a sick crunching snapping sound. Firie pain shooting down his spine. He sank to the floor. His gun falling.
No, no he wasn't going to live.
But he sure as hell was going to pick the way he went!
His good hand reached for the gun and he looked up meeting the eyes of this so called Puppeteer.
And with slow deliberation he put the gun under his chin.
And he grinned.
00oo00
Detective June Bannings looked over the scene. The house was a mess and it had definitely been awhile before anyone had found the body.
"This is the oddest suicide I've ever seen."
She ignored the voices, investigating the scene of her predecessor.
Using her pencil she opened his hand, it was odd how he'd chosen to fire the gun with his off hand, but he clutched something in his right.
A photo. The edged burned, but the image still clear. A woman was smiling at the camera giving a peace sign. Seated among her garden and basket of vegetables.
She frowned, wondering if the image had been really damaged as she swore she could see something standing in the shadows of the shed behind the woman….
But she shook her head and put the picture in a bag for evidence.
Maybe they could all find out what sent the prior detective off his rocker and to put a gun to his head.
