Doll of Mine (A Dia de los Muertos Story) Page 3

  “I need to get back to a Isla De Las Muñecas ! I have to!”

  The woman smiled and behind her the halo of the moon doubled as a halo around her face. “Come, we can take my boat. We will get you there quickly.”

  There was no other boat. Alma had never heard of another boat in the area that made trips to the island. But instead of questioning the kind gesture, she scrambled to the edge of the water and stepped gingerly into the boat which looked like a hollowed out tree.

  Most of the trip was silent. As the island came into view, she noticed the fog had lifted and instead of the wind chimes she’d heart before, faint accordion music rang in the distance.

  “What’s that music?” She asked the woman.

  “La Cancion de las Muñecas. Some music only plays at night.”

  A shudder of terror shook Alma’s body as she saw the truth in the woman’s eyes. A movement in her bag caught her eye. Slowly, she unzipped the backpack, revealing a dancing Lucia. The doll was dancing inside of her bag and grasping desperately, trying to escape.

  “You are late. He won’t be pleased.” She pointed upwards at the moon.

  “Who is he?” Alma asked, afraid of the answer.

  “He is not the caretaker who once kept this place holy. Rather in his place stands a prince of the darkness.”

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. She’s okay. I’m bringing her back.” Alma’s chest heaved with deepened breaths of panic.

  The woman, still rowing, gave Alma a look of pure sympathy. “When he gives you the choice, take your time making a decision. There’s no hurry.”

  “What choice,” Alma asked.

  Instead of answering, the woman pulled against the dock and helped Alma out of the boat.

  “Good luck, child.”

  Alma turned to thank the woman, but there was no one there. The canal around and beyond the canal was empty. She took Lucia from the backpack and fluffed and primped the doll, who continued to fidget, as best she could for good measure and then hiked the distance to the cabin. Along the way, she thought nothing of the missing dolls from the trees, figuring she was simply having a hard time seeing them in the dark. When she reached the area around the cabin, her breath stopped in her chest.

  A jovial circle danced around a fire, the instruments were played by invisible musicians. It was the dolls—they were all dancing, hands clasped around the fire and around him.

  “Well, well, well,” The darkly dressed man clapped his hands and shone a great smile of perfect white teeth in her direction. “I see you’ve brought back my bride.”

  His bride?

  Alma nodded. It was the only reply she could conjure.

  “I see you’ve taken excellent care of her. Thank you. She truly looks happy now.”

  He took the doll from Alma’s hands and set her down. Lucia came to life as her feet hit the ground, as if the man had blown a breath of life into her lungs. She didn’t hesitate in dancing with her kind. He looked on the scene and clapped some more with the music, laughing and carrying on with the rest of them.

  I’ve done it. Alma thought to herself. She turned to sneak away from the scene and promised herself to obey her mother’s rituals and habits, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. She also promised herself never to travel to the island again.

  A few steps later, she heard a growling clearing of the throat. “Aren’t we forgetting something, Alma dear?”

  How did he know her name?

  “I’m sure we’re not. I returned her.”

  “Yes,” his grin grew devilish. “But you’re late. We had an agreement.”

  She looked around. The dolls had forgotten their dance and the instruments waivered in the air, soundless. Some of the dolls looked on the man with awe, but the others openly wept.

  “Can’t you forgive me? I brought her back, safe and sound.”

  “Forgiveness is not an option. That’s why I gave you a chance to make good on our deal. You agreed that thieves should be punished, correct?”

  Alma had agreed in the market. She had agreed that sins deserved punishment.

  Unknowingly, she’d sentenced herself—to what, she didn’t know.

  “But I didn’t steal. I returned her.”

  “You were late!” The man chortled and contorted his face until he became more of a beast than a human. Two points on his forehead burned and bulged. But as soon as the anger came, it relented, deflating him back to the man—now more handsome than he had been before.

  “I tell you what. I will give you a choice in your punishment. I am fair. That doll wasn’t just another play thing—she was my bride to be. We had a deal. You see, when you didn’t return my bride in time, her freedom from our arrangement was granted. So, you can either agree to be my bride and live the life of these dolls, awakening with the moon and joining me in marriage. Or…you can go home now and return on your thirtieth birthday and become one of them without a chance of ever coming to life again.” He pointed to the dolls that were strung by a metal line threaded through their heads. They weren’t moving or dancing. They were just plastic.

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he lifted his hand towards her. The desire, swirled with terror, feeling warmed her belly and clenched at her chest.

  “Come now. Being my bride isn’t so bad.”

  Alma mulled it all over in her head. She looked toward the bank of the canal and then back at the dolls.

  There was no obvious choice.

  But she had to make one.

  “Quickly,” he chastised as if he knew the woman’s warning to take her time.

  “What choice do I have?”

  ~~~

  As the sun rose over Doll Island a few hours later, the dolls all went to their places for their days of rest and silence. What the man didn’t tell Alma was that the dolls of la Isla De Las Muñecas only were allowed to rise on Los Dias de los Muertos.

  The other dolls had taken their places, mourning the sunrise and the loss of their freedom once again.

  The choice had been easier than Alma wanted to admit to herself.

  A life of a nightling, one that only danced at night, or half of a human life and then left to hang by a string.

  “Sit, darling bride.” He told Alma. She sat next to the box that once belonged to Lucia. The dolls of the island had dressed her to perfection in a life-size outfit that matched the costume of her once innocent offering. Alma’s arms and legs shrunk and shriveled as she stared at him in shock. Her eyes could see, but couldn’t blink. Her body could feel but could not move. She could hear but never be heard.

  Her thoughts were her own, jailed inside the cage of her mind.

  “Goodnight, mi vida, my love. Until next year.”