Page 7 of Dolls of Ruin

I tilted his head to inspect a faint mark on his neck, then set him beside the others.

“Shit, I’m kind of hungry again. That spaghetti didn’t hit the spot.” I groaned, wiping my hands on my jeans. I couldn’t eatnow even if I wanted to; I forgot to bring a snack… no, that was a lie, I left what I had at home because I was trying to be healthier while being cost-effective by buying a bulk bag of almonds and I couldn’t stand eating anymore.

The next doll caught the light in a way that made me stop mid-motion to take a closer look. From the neck down, his porcelain gleamed in a rich emerald green, metallic and smooth, like polished scales catching the light. A silver spider stretched across his chest and torso, its legs sprawling out in a stark, stenciled contrast against the deep green. The design wasn’t delicate or ornate—it was bold, sharp, and commanding, like it had been forged there with purpose.

I ran the cloth over the smooth surface of his chest, revealing the gleam of his colors in full. His dark, unruly curls framed a face that was both mischievous and intense, with eyes so piercing they seemed to challenge me outright. There was something predatory about him, like he was waiting for the perfect moment to strike—not with violence, but with precision.

“You’re... unsettling,” I said quietly, my voice almost drowned out by the faint hum of the shop.

I polished the last streak of dust from his shoulders, setting him carefully beside the others. Even in the lineup, he managed to stand out, his emerald sheen catching the light like a beacon.

The last doll wasn’t just different—he was mesmerizing.

His porcelain was bone-white, marbled with fine, silvery patterns that resembled spider silk. The etched designs shimmered faintly under the lights, tracing intricate, organic paths across his torso and arms. His face was hauntingly beautiful—sharp cheekbones, full lips, and dark eyes that seemed to hold a cold, calculating wisdom. There was an air of quiet arrogance about him, like he’d long accepted he was above it all.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, seriously? This is too much. You’re prettier than me, and I feel personally attacked.”

I set him gently beside the others after I finished cleaning him up and stepped back to take them all in. They were... something. A strange, unsettling collection of chaos, beauty, and power.

“You’re a weird bunch,” I said, placing my hands on my hips. "But hey, at least you didn’t judge my dance moves like that customer did."

The silence that followed wasn’t as heavy as before. It felt lighter somehow, like it was holding something I couldn’t quite name.

Grabbing my tea, I leaned against the counter and let the quiet settle around me.

“Not bad,” I said softly, eyeing the lineup of dolls. “Not bad at all.”

Six

The workbench was in chaos,and I had no one to blame but myself. Dust rags, a spray bottle, half a cup of coffee I’d abandoned an hour ago—all of it shoved into one cluttered corner while the dolls stared at me in silent judgment.

I sighed, pushing my hair out of my face. “All right, you lot. Let’s make you pretty again. Maybe someone will actually want to take one of you home.”

I reached for the next doll, my fingers brushing over his golden porcelain. From head to toe, he shimmered in warm metallic tones, smooth and sleek like he’d been dipped in liquid gold. His sculpted features—sharp jawline, perfectly arched brows, and lips just curved into an almost-smile—radiated confidence, the kind that didn’t need to prove itself.

There just was something magnetic about him—golden porcelain that shimmered like sunlight, contrasted by the striking emerald accents woven through his design. The coins etched across his chest weren’t just details; they were bold and purposeful, as if meant to declare his status without a single word. He didn’t just exist—he radiated presence, commanding attention like it was his birthright.

“You’ve got gold everywhere, coins stamped across you, and those eyes?” I tilted him toward the light, smirking. “You’re not just wealthy—you’reWealth. The kind that doesn’t just show off but makes everyone else feel poor just by existing.”

I shook my head, brushing dust from his chest with a laugh. “Seriously, it’s almost insulting how good you look. But I bet you’d enjoy that.”

Placing him back on the counter, I stepped back and gave him one last look. “Your overdrafts probably come with a thank-you note from the bank for letting them hold your wealth for a minute.”

I reached for the next one, but my hand hesitated just above his jagged, cracked frame. His dark eyes had a sharpness to them, and his expression—if you could call it that—was a little too satisfied, like he’d just won an argument or destroyed someone’s life.

“You’re not angry, exactly,” I said, frowning as I studied his features. “More like… pleased. Like you just got revenge.”

My lips twitched into a small smile. “Revenge. That’s perfect. Let’s go with that.”

Behind him, another doll with crimson accents and a sly little grin seemed to glint under the overhead light, but I didn’t have the energy to deal with his smugness just yet. “Your turn’s coming, buddy,” I muttered, grabbing my spray bottle.

The shop bell jingled, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry, we’re technically clo—” I stopped mid-sentence as a man stepped inside. He wasn’t one of the regulars. Most people came here to browse for weird antiques or vintage teacups, but this guy walked in like he was on a mission.

“Are these for sale?” he asked, gesturing at the dolls.

“Uh, yeah, I guess?” I said, wiping my hands on my jeans. “They’re kind of a set, though. I mean, they were packed together, so?—”

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