Dipping the brush into the red paint, Melody kept a keen eye on the door whilst applying the ostentatious colour to the doll’s lips. Although she is used to the quiet and serene pace, today it seems almost deafening. Endless hours, where each minute feels like a lifetime. A shadow rushing past her right caught her attention.
“Hello?” the desperation for human contact oozing through her voice.
Nothing. Melody shook it off as a trick of the eyes and went back to her painting. The porcelain face slowly coming to life with each minuscule stroke of a paint filled brush. Another flicker, this time to her left. Surely, she would have heard the bell above the door announce someone’s entrance. The stupid thing taunts her with its obnoxious ‘ting’ at the slightest hint of a breeze.
Another shadow, this time, right in front of her. It almost seemed to move towards the doll before it disappeared as quickly as it manifested. Melody shook her head again, closing her eyes tight in the hope that her vision is restored. Unfortunately, when she opened her eyes, the black spots swam ever presently. Albeit, this brought a crooked smile to her face as she realised that she is just tired and her eyes are failing her sense of reality.
The shrill shriek of the phone brought her back to reality.
“Antique restorations, how can I help you?” as she fell into her practised speech her mind drifted away from the fleeting thoughts of confusion.
Having spent the past 20 years working alone in a secluded building hidden behind a foray of coffee shops and bric-a-bracs, Melody was attuned to a life in considerable isolation. Her saving grace was often the classic rock that drifted from the back door of Harvey’s Records, littering the alley with the likes of The Doors, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. Hidden entries down dark alleys, tend to favour towards very little customers daring to venture into the world of the Antiques. When Melody began working in her grandfather’s store, preparing to take over the business, she was met with resistance to visit by most that she knew. It seems there is something off-putting to the likes of porcelain faces, hand stitched lace and historical paraphernalia that screamed 1800’s in your face like a red fox searching for a mate. But to Melody, this was her safe space. The ever present need to change, update and adapt by those around her has never caused Melody to feel left behind. In fact, her view seems to stem that those who do not appreciate the history or try to hold on, are the ones who need to reassess. Technology is great for many things, but the feel, the smell and the aura surrounding things from a decade or two ago is what reminds us of simpler times when neighbours talked face to face and ‘I’ll send you a message’ meant a need for paper and quills.
Time has, of course, surged forward, and the sounds from Harvey’s, coupled with the smells from the coffee house are all the proximity Melody needs to remind herself that she is still linked to the outside world. But she prefers her world. And why wouldn’t she? The stories held within the objects she collects. Her heart and soul should go into the careful restoration of each item that lines her shelves. While Melody loves all objects from the past, her favourite has always been the porcelain dolls. Knowing that those dolls were created to look like the children that had passed decades, even centuries of was hauntingly beautiful. Most of the very special dolls were crowned with the l deceased child’s own hair. The dolls were made to look like a living statue of the beautiful souls they had lost.
It explains the painstakingly slow restoration. Melody cherishes every part of those cherub-like faces, giving back the colour that once adorned a little child’s face. Rosy cheeks, pink lips, bright eyes in a blues, greens, browns or whichever unique shade the child once had. She brushes the hair with care, ensuring each lock is sitting just perfect to frame the innocent face that nestles among it. But the most precise part is when there is clear damage that has a crack to the porcelain itself. Deep gouges in the skin of the otherwise perfect beauty. These are the times that Melody gets lost in her work. She meticulously fills the cracks, sands to a smooth surface and repaints until the fine lines disappear from the doll altogether. Breathing new life into each restored piece. But she hasn’t had a truly damaged piece for quite some time. Finishing her last paint stroke on her doll, she sighs. Another piece- brought back to perfection. Placed carefully on the top shelf in the back of the store. Away from clumsy fingers.
Melody watched as the sun hid behind the buildings around her, creating a slither of pink and orange in the alley as it moved towards the street. As she bustled about to close the shop she wistfully thought of what it would have been like to live in the bygone era she loves so much. To her right, she swore she caught a glimpse of another shadow. Shaking her head free of the darkness she continued towards the front door. As she bent down to position the bolt into its housing she noticed it. An inconspicuous box. Nothing special. Just a cardboard box. Carefully, she opened the top and peered inside. As she neared the top her thoughts moved to every horror movies she has ever seen. Of course, she knew that was absurd. Peering in she gasped in surprise. It was a doll. A beautiful porcelain doll. Laying on its right side she saw nothing but faded perfection. A bright green eye clear as the meadows on a summers day. Her hair, light brown ringlets cascading over her shoulder. She was beautiful. Excitement brewed in Melody’s stomach as she carefully pulled the doll from the box. But as she turned it over to face her she was almost disheartened that such beauty could be damaged so carelessly. It almost looked deliberate. The left eye was smashed incompletely and a large crack spanned her left cheek to her shoulder. The ringlets matted and wiry, as if the two halves did not belong to the same doll. As Melody’s mind raced as to what kind of monster would do this to a beautiful relic like this, she thought to start on the restoration first thing in the morning. Before locking up, she quickly slid the doll back into the box for the night and placed it inside the shop next to the door. Planning to retrieve it as she opened in the morning.
An excited but tired Melody eagerly jogged up the alleyway to her shop when something caught her eye to her left. A shadow seemed to fly past the front window and move quickly behind the wall. A small part of Melody was anxious that she didn’t lock up properly. But she knows she did. She checked both bolts twice. Again, like yesterday, she shook off the uneasy feeling and brushed it off as being tired from all the anticipation last night. Eager to restore this new doll she found yesterday. It looked like it came straight from the 1700’s. She quickly unbolted the doors and went about opening the windows. But as she moved towards the back of the store Melody was quick to realise that something was off. It was just a feeling to start with. Looking down the aisles and checking shelf after she finally saw the problem. A shelf near the doll she restored yesterday had been relieved of the English tea set that graced its shelves only yesterday. But more horrifying, the newly restored doll was laying on its side, dress tangled around its neck. Almost as someone was trying to choke it.
Cats. That must have been it. She was lucky the doll wasn’t re-broken or any more damage was done. Perplexed, Melody wasn’t sure how the cats must have gotten in, but really, there is no other explanation. The doors and windows were still locked when she arrived.
After picking up, resetting the shelves, Melody sets to retrieve the doll in the box. Funny, it was facing down. She was sure she left it facing up. Stupid cats. Boiling a kettle and organising her workshop area, Melody was keen to get started. Undressing the doll and surveying the entire damage was first and foremost. Looking closely at the one-eyed doll she was excited to realise it was a Simon & Halbig creation. Early Germany, and renowned for their emotive expressions. Not that there was much emotion in only half a face. These dolls are very expensive when in good condition. Whoever left it at the front door mustn’t have known how much they are worth. To leave it donated at the door, no note, no one asking for even a quarter of what it would be worth. That’s strange. With a freshly brewed cup of arabica beans and Harley’s playlist drifting through the alley in the background, Melody set to work to begin the restoration project.
Minutes drifted into hours. Customers trickled in and out. When finally, Melody was ready to replace the missing green eye and fill the cracks with new porcelain. As she lifted the doll and tilted it to the right a vague noise was heard. Almost like a teaspoon tapping the side of a cup ever so slightly. As if by magic, two pieces of porcelain fell out of the hole in the eye. The smaller piece was the left side of the mouth. But it was odd. Whilst the right side had a neutral expression, the left side clearly morphed into a smirk. Unperturbed, Melody went right ahead at reattaching the cheeky smirk for the doll. Taking the time to repaint the pink lips to their former glory. Taking her time to fill small cracks and lines in the porcelain, repaint the rosy cheeks and pale white skin, Melody was lost in her restoration. Barely noticing the sounds fade in the alley. Smells evaporating and the moon fighting to take its place in the sky.
Finally, the last piece. As Melody picked the eye piece with her tweezers she turned over. Expecting to find a faded green eye just like the right side. But it wasn’t the same. It was Blue. Cobalt blue. It must have been a piece from another doll. Nonetheless, through closer inspection to determine just what brand doll this random eye came from, Melody perceived that the piece fits perfectly into the broken slot. In 20 years Melody has never seen mismatched eyes in the porcelain dolls she restores. Yet again, a shadow flickered by the door of the store, drawing Melody’s attention to the encroaching night. Hurried to ensure her safety, she locked herself into the shop. The back room had a kitchenette, fold out sofa and adjoining bathroom. She remembers her grandfather explaining that sometimes he would stay the night working, and therefore brought in the sofa bed for her father to sleep on. Perfect for a night like tonight. She was only a few hours from finishing and didn’t want to leave.
Reattaching the eye as the easy part. Soothing the joins in the porcelain was also simple. But whenever that Melody tried to paint green over the blue eye, the colour would run. The Blue would seep through. In an attempt to appease the paint on the blue eye, she tried painting the green eye blue. But then it too would run the paint until the green shone through. Giving in to the doll, she touched up the odd eyes in their original colour. Another shadow caught in the corner of her eye, Melody knew she was beyond tired. One last look at the doll gave her the creeps. With a plump pink pout, rosy cheeks and intense odd eyes, it looked almost…malevolent. Hidden behind a façade of a child like innocence.
After a short sleep of an hour or two, Melody awoke in a rush. Groggy from exhaustion, it took her a moment to gain her bearings. Realising she was on the pull-out sofa at the shop she gathered her thoughts. Something woke her. Another noise just outside the room. With trepidation, she slowly emerged from the sofa to investigate the noise. A hiss. A smash of metal hitting the floor. Using her phone as a torch, she moved towards the aisle the English teapot was stored. Yet again, she found this tossed to the floor. The first doll again, almost strangled by her dress. Melody shivered as she took in the scene. This wasn’t right. There is no way, that this was caused by a cat. Melody could feel her blood run cold as she heard another hiss in the back of the store. And a growl.
She ran back to the room and locked herself in. As she backed away from the door she heard it again. A gut wrenching, demonic sounding growl. Only this time it was behind her. Turning slowly, she caught a glimpse of a blade as it pierced her flesh between her ribs and embedded into her heart. Dark shadows enveloped her. Melody was used to the quiet and serene. 
Yet now it felt deafening. Her heartbeat fading. As she bled out she caught sight of two odd eyes and a plump pink smirk.
Lilithxo
Awkward Adult 