Page 4 of Dolls of Ruin

“You’re brothers,” I said aloud, the realization hitting me as I studied them. “Yeah, that’s it. Big brother, middle one who keeps everyone sane, and... wild child.”

The more I stared, the more their personalities seemed to click into place. The eldest had that commanding presence, the middle one felt like the glue holding them together, and the youngest—well, he was probably the reason the other two looked tired.

“Quite the family dynamic you’ve got,” I said with a small laugh, setting them side by side.

The next two dolls radiated a presence that felt ancient, like they’d been sculpted from the ocean’s secrets.

The first doll seemed to embody the raw power of the sea. His porcelain skin shimmered with an aquamarine hue, its faint ridges mirroring the scales of a predator from the depths. Fins flared from the sides of his angular face, sharp and deliberate, that gave him an edge. His vivid green eyes gleamed, luminous but piercing, as though they could pull you into the depths and hold you there.

As I ran the damp cloth over the curve of his jaw, I noticed how the fine details along his neck and shoulders seemed almost alive, like they might ripple if you looked away. The faint saltiness in the air that always seemed to linger in my shop suddenly felt heavier, almost tangible.

“You’re not just strong,” I murmured, carefully wiping along the edge of his sharp cheekbone. “You’re...relentless. The kind of power that doesn’t stop just because someone asks nicely.”

Setting him back on the counter felt like returning a weapon to its sheath, though his presence didn’t diminish. If anything, it lingered, coiling like a wave waiting to crash.

His counterpart, however, was something else entirely.

The second doll exuded elegance, but it was the kind that came with mystery. His porcelain skin had a faint iridescence, a sheen that caught the light like pearls glinting under water. Long silver hair cascaded in soft waves, framing his delicate features and giving him an ethereal beauty that felt just out of reach.

But his eyes—those vibrant cerulean depths—were the kind you’d find in still waters that hide something far more dangerous beneath the surface. His antler-like horns arched gracefully from his head, dark and polished, adding an edge to his otherwise serene presence.

I wiped the cloth over his slender hands, pausing when I noticed the fine webbing between his fingers, intricate and hauntingly real. “You’re the enigma,” I murmured, polishing his shoulder with slow, deliberate strokes. “The kind people can’t help but want to figure out, even if it gets them into trouble.”

Placing him beside the first doll, I stepped back and took in the sight of them together. They weren’t opposites so much as two halves of something larger. The first was all dominance and raw strength, an unstoppable force. The second was control and quiet intensity, a riddle with no clear answer.

“You two look like trouble,” I muttered, brushing the damp towel across my palms. “But I bet you already know that.”

I stepped back to stretch, rolling my shoulders as I surveyed the dolls I’d finished so far. They gleamed under the shop lights, each one unique, each one beautiful in a way I hadn’t expected.

But my back ached, and my stomach growled loud enough to make me wince. I glanced at the clock and let out a long sigh.

“Okay,” I muttered, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Break time. You’re all a lot of work, you know that?”

My gaze lingered on the counter, on the polished faces of the dolls still waiting their turn. For a moment, I felt an odd pang of guilt, like I was leaving them hanging.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I said, pointing at them as I headed toward the backroom. “I’ll be back.”

Four

The microwave beeped,pulling me out of my thoughts.

I hadn’t moved from the desk in the backroom for a good ten minutes, staring at the stack of bills like they might catch fire if I glared hard enough.

“Utilities, rent, inventory...” I muttered, flipping through the envelopes. “Do you guys coordinate these due dates just to ruin me, or is that a coincidence?”

My phone buzzed beside me, lighting up with a number I didn’t recognize. Great. Probably another spam call or, worse, someone trying to sell me extended car insurance for a car I didn’t even own anymore.

I let it ring, grabbing my tea and the Tupperware from the microwave. Steam billowed out as I peeled back the lid, and the smell of spaghetti—again—hit me in the face.

“Lunch of champions,” I muttered, grabbing a fork and heading to the tiny table in the corner. “Gordon Ramsay, eat your heart out.”

I sank into the chair with a sigh, unwrapping my fork and twirling it absently through the noodles. The silence settled around me, heavy and still.

Usually, I liked the quiet. It was peaceful, a nice break from the chaos of the world outside. But today, it felt...different. Stifling, almost.

My gaze drifted toward the door to the shop. The dolls were still out there, sitting on the counter like they were waiting for something.

The thought made me pause. It wasn’t like they cared if I took a break, but something about leaving them out there alone felt...wrong.

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