Play With Me

Some people never let go of their favorite toys, some people collect while others save them for THEIR kids. He, however, made them. I'm one of them.

 

Thursday 

He said his name was Fingerling, he was the only person who had ever noticed me in the crowd like that before. He had black hair and eyes, pale skin- I knew when he said his name that there was something familiar about him. I mistook this familiarity as a meaning that he must’ve been someone I had met before, and I tried to be nice to him. 

I had been walking home from school when I met him, standing on the corner, holding a few books  and my purse slung over my shoulder. He had handed me a flyer, a little yellow one. 

WRITERS WELCOME! 

Big bold letters, an address printed on the bottom. It said there was a poetry contest and I watched Fingerling hand out a few more flyers as he said, 

“Sorry, I’m Fingerling,” he passed another to a woman walking by and smiled, “Our group needs more teenagers, sorry to bother you like this!” he was polite, he smiled, he walked away and into the crowd. 

I should’ve tore that paper up. 

I read and reread the flyer the whole way home, showed it to my parents. 

Let me tell you something- I’ve never been popular. Friends for me were few, if any, and that really wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t that I was an outcast but I just…I was quiet. I’ve always been shy and I’m well aware that people need to talk, to let their feelings out. When I was eight, my mom got me this little brown book with a leather binding, and since then I haven’t stopped writing. Poetry, sad poetry, was my thing.  

To this day I still believe it was only a coincidence that Fingerling approached me- he was handing out flyers while he spoke to me.  

Now that I think back, he only handed them to women, I should’ve noticed. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself….. 

Or not. Not for this hell.  

When I showed my parents the flyer at home they wanted me to go, the first meeting for this group was after school the next day. They said it’d be a good chance to express myself but the three of us knew the hidden meaning in their words- I could meet people. Make friends. Be social. Honestly, I was  for the first time in a while looking forward to something.  

I realize now that I was stupid, I never told my parents Fingerling’s name that night because it just…I suppose it slipped my mind. I didn’t think of it. I figured later, when I did remember at school the next day I would find out.  

Friday 

I walked down to the bus station right after school. I had my back pack, my poetry, my flyer- I was ready. 

The meeting place for the club was actually a house, looking back again, I should’ve trusted my gut feeling that something strange was up but I pushed it down. Anything to not be alone anymore.  

When the bus pulled away and I stood on the sidewalk, all my things in my arms, I texted my mom and dad where I was, that I was going to the writers meeting at, what turned out to be surprisingly, a house. I was expecting a library, a building with some real stature but this house was little, yellow.  

I went to the door and knocked twice, Fingerling answered the door with a grin and I saw a banner hanging over the hall that read “WELCOME!” I smiled too; Fingerling stood to the side and held the door, 

“Where are the other writers?” I looked around; since the house was small enough I could see to the living room, the kitchen- no one was there. I could hear voices though, faint voices but they were there all the same.  

“Downstairs, I’ll introduce you.” He took me downstairs and we passed by a huge work table, strands of wire hung like snakes from the ceiling, fishing hooks lay on the table. “I fish,” he said, he pointed to a plaque with a replicated bass on it, underneath that was a plaque with another replicated fish, this one a swordfish.  

The uneasiness I had felt before was now a rock in my stomach, I can’t believe it took me until we got to the door we were headed to before I realized the voices were of women. They were way too loud to be normally talking- these women were screaming, and screaming loud. 

A shadow came behind me as Fingerling smirked, looking up past my shoulder, there was a thud. 

I don’t remember hitting the floor. I only know I woke up on that wooden work table. I was tied down, I couldn’t move and my head ached, I couldn’t see because of the light above me.  

“I’ve always had a thing for toys,” Fingerling, “I was expecting you to wake up later but it looks like Joe didn’t hit you as hard as I had hoped.” The edge of a needle pricked my skin, I moaned, moved my head to get a better look at him. 

He had on an apron made of canvas, smears of blood covered it. He had on a surgeon’s mask too, and I whimpered, “But…But you fish.” I whined- I can’t believe I was so stupid.  

“Kelly,” the corners of his eyes crinkled, “I went through your things. You’re a very nice poet.” The feeling in my arms faded and I started to cry, 

“Let me go!” I shifted my legs and a hand came around my mouth. Fingerling looked up, winked, 

“Thanks, Joe.” I smelled plastic. I tilted my head back and Joe’s hand held my scream. 

He was six feet tall, huge, plastic brown hair, green military outfit with plastic ammo wrapped around his chest, a belt and pockets and pouches and combat boots so black the light reflected in the blinded me.  

“Joe” was a G.I. Joe doll.  

He did not breathe, he did not blink. He couldn’t bend his elbows because they were plastic, his knees the same. His hips and shoulders moved. He was not alive but he stood there.  

“Almost done. You know, back in the day the city tried to build a railway down here. If you go down the stairway from the next door there’s a drop off, and about five hundred yards of tunnel lost to the city. Most basements don’t lead to the tunnel, but this one does. See, the city tried to make this railway before the Depression, and they lost money for it during, so they stopped construction. The plans were lost to the city officials over the years. I only found the place when my wife and I decided to extend the basement. ” Fingerling sounded thrilled. 

The smell of plastic was killing me. 

I couldn’t stop looking at Joe and I didn't until Fingerling’s voice came back,  

“Want to know how I do it?” he sounded giddy, “You see, black magic is something most people frown on but my wife came from a long line of Gypsies. So, one day, I asked her what she could do- Joe is the result of some very hard work on mine and my wife’s part, see?” he reached over, grabbed Joe’s other arm and brought it up to my view. A gold wedding band was wrapped around his thick fingers.  

I gagged, started screaming. I thought of my parents then, remembered the text I sent and thanked God.  

My head started to swim, my vision blurred and I passed out.  

When I woke up later to the situation I’m in now, my head didn’t hurt but my arms killed.  

At the moment, I’m listening to the screaming of the women around me. 

I’ve been in virtually the same position for hours now, my arms up by my shoulders, my hands hanging down, my chest leaning towards the floor and my legs bent beneath me. There are fishing hooks in my arms, at my upper arms, my elbows and my hands. Wire is connected up from these hooks, tied to a large wooden cross that is flat to the ceiling. My skin is constantly being stretched up, I can see the holes the hooks have made. 

My position though is not nearly as scary as the others.  

When I looked around before I was horrified and I still am. Across from me is a woman of at least twenty, fair skin with metal cuffs around her waist, her arms, her legs- they hold her to the pink painted backing behind her, which turns into a huge box that encases her. A few air holes are punched into the glass that holds the front of the box. She has tears coming from her blue eyes, long blond hair, she’s all in pink. 

Barbie.  

Next to me, a girl in a similar box, younger than me. Blond hair with brown streaks, same cuffs as Barbie (whose real name is Gina), fair skin. Pink shirt, denim jeans, high heeled boots, black fur lined coat. A microphone is taped to her hand.  

Hannah Montana.  

Of course.  

When I woke up it took me sometime to realize what I was. If they were dolls, what was I? 

Reality can be a scary thing, especially when your staring at a real live Barbie doll, and a Hannah Montana doll to boot. Fingerling….he had mentioned that he had a thing for toys.  

A marionette doll. He had turned me into a marionette doll.

I started to scream, but now as he tickles my chin and laughs and asks, “Wanna play with me?” I start to scream louder. 

He laughs. 

Louder.  

“LET ME GO YOU THICK F**K!” 

I’m going to be the one laughing at him later. My parents got the text, I know they did.  

Upstairs, the doorbell rings and sirens scream, but not louder than me.

 

Author's Note

This is for a contest, I had to write a story about the picture given, which was a girl attached to marionette strings looking dull and lifeless. I thought she was a doll at first, but her skin is pulled up where the strings attach so I made her real.

She's my Pinocchio. :D

Hope you enjoyed! :) The contest can be found in my profile, feel free to join!

By the way, I know Fingerling's name comes from another book, I can't remember which one though. I just felt it fit because it's a fake name and strange as he is. He's from a series of childrens books too, and I felt that fit as well because....well, he just loves his toys.

:)

Reviews

[Marie Harrison]

Cool story you've created. Very intertaining and twisted. I loved it! You're very talented. I loved the concept of the barbie dolls on display, a far side twist to the story.

[the-One-with-the-Darkne..]

INcredible! i love this!

[Vyctm]

This story creeped me out a lot. you have a ton of skill. It was creepy and gave me shivers. Everything about it was well thought out and the execution was perfect. So far this is the best I have ever read. I wish I could give it a 110. You would earn it.

[Voice11]

This is one of the creepiest stories yet. Very exquisite plot line and descriptions. Very well written it just makes me shiver!!

[Nikki <3]

wow. that is soooo cool!

[free~2~b~me!]

I love your story. Absolutely brilliant!

[Glen marsh]

hi there i enjoyed this story it took me to a place of quirky wierdness. the pace never droped and kept me engaged. very well written. there was one word i spotted you wrote 'should have trusted my guy instinct' is this suppose to be 'gut'. apart from that small things loved it all thanks.

[Tallulah]

OMG i'm such a horrible friend....how could i possibly let you get this twisted. J ust kidding I love you. And I love this. It was amazing. It made my heart go pitter-patter (and I don't say that a lot). This was epic!

[Rebel_angel]

I really like this! It was great! it got straight into the story and i really liked that there is only one question left unanswered which is are they dolls forever. But that just makes it a bit more interesting. Well done, i really like it.

[Winter Poison]

Dude. Major epic right there. I just kinda feel like there could have been a wee bit more description. Just a bit though. XD;; So is she stuck like that forever?