Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“No,” Z groans. “I sense where this is going.”
“I wish,” Margot mutters. “Then she asked for coins to be placed in her mother’s hands.”
“Not on her eyes?” Teller asks.
“No. Just her hands.” Margot takes a breath. “There were other things, but these are the most relevant. She also stressed the body could not cross the threshold twice. This one was trickier but also not unusual. Fun fact—that’s why the viewing room has two entrances.”
I picture the layout of Margot’s house. Except for the bathrooms, every room I’ve been in on the first floor has at least two entrances. The basement has three, if you count the rickety elevator as an exit.
“The final request was to bury her mother with a doll. At first I thought, aw, that’s sweet, maybe it was something from her childhood that she treasured.”
“Was it a Cabbage Patch kid?” Sparky asks.
“That would’ve been preferable.” Margot shivers. “We bury people with jewelry, photos, love letters—someone even tried to bury her dad with his hunting rifle one time. And of course, children are usually buried with cherished toys.” She stops and takes a breath.
I rub my hand between her shoulder blades.
Swan kneels up on her blanket and raises one hand. “Was it a Matryoshka doll?”
Lilly nods enthusiastically. “That’s what I was thinking too.”
“Kind of.” Margot lifts her hands and shrugs. “A Russian nesting doll. That’s what I thought at first. But it was bigger.” She holds her hands vertically in the air, about twelve inches apart. “It was a dark wood color with intricate carvings. None of the colorful paint I’d seen on nesting dolls before. And, most importantly, it didn’t open. It was very heavy, like it was solid, not hollow with other dolls inside.”
“That’s weird,” Lilly murmurs.
“The weirdest part,” Margot lowers her voice, “was that the mouth was carved wide open—”
Rav lifts his hand and a dirty smirk spreads over his face. “Like—”
“Don’t,” I warn.
“Like she was screaming,” Margot finishes without acknowledging Rav’s interruption. “And she had three small, rusty nails hammered into each eye, sticking straight out.”
“Jesus Christ,” someone mutters.
Margot touches her stomach. “And three nails sticking out of her belly button.”
“Gross,” Z groans. “And she wanted her mom buried with that thing?”
Lilly shakes her head vigorously. “Did she tell you it was a Kikimora doll?”
Margot’s eyes widen and she sits back. “Yes,” she breathes out.
“Bullshit!” Rav shouts. “I call bullshit.” He points to Lilly, then Margot. “You two conspired ahead of time.”
Lilly holds both hands in the air. “I swear we didn’t.”
“Watch where you’re pointin’ those fingers, brother,” Z growls at Ravage.
“Jesus Christ,” Birch moans and stares up at the sky. “Nothing scary has even happened yet in this story.” He flashes a quick grin at Margot. “No offense.” His gaze shifts to Rav. “What are you getting so worked up about?”
“Nothing.” Rav crosses his arms over his chest.
“She said it was a good luck doll to help her mother find lost relatives in the afterlife,” Margot continues.
Lilly and Swan both shake their heads vigorously.
“The daughter requested two viewings and a wake before the burial.” Margot holds her hands up. “She was paying, so we did exactly as she requested. But because of the threshold rule, we had to leave the casket in the viewing room overnight.”
“Here we go.” Hoot rubs his hands together like he’s excited we’re closer to the scary part.
I’m less enthusiastic about where this story’s heading.
“The doll was supposed to remain in this black velvet bag,” Margot says. “I placed it in the casket with her mother myself. April took care of the coins. And I sewed the bell into the satin lining.”
The bonfire pops and hisses, dragging out the tension. I squirm on the log, wishing Margot would finish the story.
Margot turns toward me. “I hadn’t finished my apartment upstairs yet. So, I was sleeping in my old bedroom on the second floor. April had her own apartment in Empire and was commuting.”
She turns toward the group again, the fire casting shadows over her face. “The only people in the house were my dad, my cousin, and me. Well, the only living people.”
Someone groans.
“I woke up to the sound of running water.” Margot shrugs. “It’s an old house. I’m used to odd noises all hours of the night. But never anything like this.”
I shift my gaze and catch Ravage hugging himself tighter.
“Scared something might be wrong—a busted pipe or a faucet someone left on, I got up to investigate.” Margot takes a deep breath, then continues. “As soon as I opened my bedroom door, the air felt so heavy. Like the pressure you feel in the air before a storm. I searched the second floor—short of busting into my dad and cousin’s rooms. Nothing. But the sound continued.”
“Did you wake your dad up?” I ask.
“No, I really thought it was something simple.” Margot tilts her head like she’s trying to get each detail right. “I ran downstairs, checked the kitchen, the prep room, I even ran to the basement and checked all over. I checked every water source I could think of.”