Read Online His Cemetery Doll by Brantwijn Serrah - Free Book Online

breeze.
    "I saw the statue fell over," Shyla said. Her voice trembled ever so slightly, and like the doll, she'd gone rapt at attention. "I thought maybe a bear got into the cemetery. But then...the vines...and I didn't hear your gun go off..."
    The doll drifted closer. Her bloodied hands reached out, tentatively, almost in fear... beseeching.
    "What is she, Daddy?" Shyla whispered.
    He searched for an answer. Then, something caught his attention: a bit of movement in the corner of his eye. The pendant of Saint Margaret dangled from Shyla's small hand. She must have recovered it from the destruction of the statue.
    "Shyla, why did you pick up—"
    Again the doll's gaze shifted. For the first time, her face change. Fully changed, becoming an actual human expression. One of... hatred . Her frozen lips opened in a soundless shriek, and she lunged for Shyla. Something of a ghostly, agonizing wail escaped her, and Conall threw himself in her way.
    The doll strained against his arms, reaching frantically for his daughter. Her hands curled into grasping claws, swiping and snatching at the girl. Silent no longer, now sounds like weeping surrounded her, frantic sobs, terrible pain. They didn't come from her directly, but whispered on strange winds surrounding her, the same which teased her ribbons and hair. They tore at him, stripping away some emotional shield inside of him, burning him to the core with pity.
    "Shyla!" he said through gritted teeth, holding the creature back. "Go home, and stay there, like I told you!"
    "But Dad!"
    " Do it! Go back up there and wait for me to come back!"
    "But she's hurt!"
    "I'll take care of it!"
    The doll switched her tactic and put her hands on his chest then, leaning up to him, pressing needfully against him as if begging to be released. She wanted to tell him something, he was sure of it! There came no words, simply weeping, simply...
    Simply brokenness.
    "I can't help you," he said. "You...you need to tell me what is wrong."
    "Dad."
    Shyla hadn't moved and he shot her a glower over his shoulder.
    "Dad, look... look at her feet."
    He did.
    Icy dread washed over him when he saw it.
    Hands broke up from the soil. Not human hands—or at least, not full- grown human hands. Black as onyx and gnarled as twigs— thorny twigs—tiny fingers grasped for the woman's bare ankles.
    At the same time, the doll dropped her gaze and noticed. Then she pressed herself even closer to him, so hard Conall didn't understand if she meant to cling to him or to shove them out of the way of the grisly ambush. He stumbled, and one of the skeletal things caught a gray ribbon—as he and Shyla scrambled back toward the cemetery, the doll was trapped, tiny fist after tiny fist closing around ribbons, feet, legs.
    Conall turned and pulled Shyla into his arms. As he lunged into a mad sprint, racing for the ring of tombstones, one last anguished scream rose up from behind them, chilling Conall to his very core.

Chapter Eleven
    B ack at the house, Conall planted Shyla on the sofa in the living room, then sped through the rooms as quickly as he could, closing the windows and locking fast the doors.
    "What is she?" Shyla asked as he returned to the living room with the shotgun. She sat up on her knees, her wide parti-colored eyes like saucers. "Dad...what is she?"
    Conall shook his head. He sat, propping the gun by his chair, and put his face in his hands.
    "Is she a ghost?" Shyla asked. Her voice fell to barely a whisper.
    " No," he insisted. He couldn't be sure anymore, though. "I...I can't say."
    I can't say what those...those things were, either. Those hands...dear God, did it really happen?
    "Dad..."
    He lifted his head. Shyla, pale, hugged herself, tears on her cheeks.
    "I'm scared," she said.
    "Oh, lass..."
    He crossed to her, sitting down to put his arms around her. She welcomed the comfort, leaning against him, and her trembling broke his heart.
    "It's going to be okay, Shyla," he told her. "She...she won't come up