By Emily Holman (@maximumsparrow)
Previous: "Untitled" by Irina Tall
“Twins, you say?” asks the man who runs the antiques shop across from where I work.
“Yes,” I tell him, “one of each of the twin’s souls, trapped within each of these little girls’ dolls.”
“Why do they look damaged?”
“We’re all damaged.”
“On the outside?”
“Sometimes. But they didn’t used to look like this.”
“We didn’t used to look like this, either. What happened to them?”
“To the dolls, or the souls?”
“Both, I’d imagine.”
“The twins died while crossing the street. A yellow taxi cab, they didn’t know what hit ‘em.”
“And the dolls?”
“They turned gruesome after their girls dropped them upon their deaths.”
“Huh. Must’ve been the souls. The twins probably felt gruesome in death.”
“I don’t think I’d feel anything in death.”
“Well, if you died like they did, and so young, you probably couldn’t help it.”
I nod in agreement but don’t say anything more as I hand the dolls to the shopkeeper.
He takes them with interest, adding them to the shelf behind him.
Next: "La Bruja Negra"