Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26562371-20160613011630

In 1966, a small cottage was located on the edge of a small valley in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains. This small home was neighbored by an old Virginian farm. The family that ran this farm, headed by David and Ruth Echowater, was a stereotypical southern family of the ‘60’s. They went to church every Sunday and always woke up right at 6:30 to do the chores.

The Echowaters had one child, Esther, who was tidy and well-mannered. She was raised to be that way just as her parents and grandparents had been raised before her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to live on a farm with only one child. Several families in the Blue Ridge area owned farms as well, and had approximately 5-15 kids. This proved useful around the farms, since the work could be spread out among each of them, leaving the parents to clean the house or sell crops at local bazaars or to large produce companies. However, since Mr. and Mrs. Echowater only had one child, not all chores could always be done without straining themselves or hiring extra work. It was a struggle, and many animals had to be sold, but the Echowaters managed to come up with a viable way of life. They focused most on the crops and less on the animals, keeping only two cows and a few chickens.

Overall, farm work took up the majority of the family’s time. However, Esther thought this should change. She recognized that her family needed lots of help, but she couldn’t help drifting into her own world. As she grew older, she developed a hobby of making dolls to sell to the local children. The adults were fine with this, knowing that this provided extra income for the family. There was a mutual respect between parent and daughter; each family member made a nice contribution to the money of the family, and each respected the others’ priorities. A tenth of the income went to church offering, four tenths went to personal things, and the other five tenths went to farm supplies. Every now and then Esther was able to convince her parents to supply money for thread, cotton, and other doll-making supplies.

It was a passion of Esther’s to make children happy. Everytime she brought her dolls to the bazaar, she always was bombarded with wave after wave of excited children. It was a wonderful feeling to know that she was the reason for all of the marvelously joyous smiles, and this feeling motivated her to continue making dolls, to continue selling them. The only thing that could truly make her life better in her eyes would be to have kids of her own. However, though she didn’t know this yet, the quest for children would be much more difficult than anticipated, and the result of her quest would be horrifying.



It was only 1985 when Esther was married at 19 to a seemingly wonderful man named Mark. The couple had meant in church, both having skipped college, and having been named after people in the Bible. It seemed to be a perfect match, so after dating for only a couple months, they were wed and sent away to live elsewhere.

Esther couldn’t care less about where she would live with her new husband; she was simply excited that he wanted kids just as much as her. It was anticipation and haste that led her to accept the offer to live in the suburbs on Beechwood Drive in the Piedmont region of Virginia. It was going to be a wonderful life; Esther was absolutely sure of it.

“Mark, would you mind picking up some ice cream and broccoli while you’re out? It’s been  forever  you last got ice cream for me.” Esther Smith was  very  pregnant and  very  hungry. Poor Mark was in over his head, and he knew it.

“Yes, I’ll get you some ice cream and broccoli. Wouldn’t want to spoil your mood, now would I?”

“No, you wouldn’t. Now be quick; my hunger’s kicking me harder than the baby.”

Mark Smith, Esther’s new groom, scurried out of the door, ready to be away from his somewhat scary wife.

It was only a few months after the wedding when Esther announced her pregnancy, and it was now early January of 1986; her baby would be coming in only a few months. Mark at first had been overjoyed, but soon began to panic. It was his first marriage and his first baby and the excitement was nerve-wracking. He couldn’t help but think that everything he did was wrong, that something bad would end up happening to his wife or worse, his child.

He was taken aback by the odd cravings and sudden mood-swings, and found peace in the moments when Esther would go to her workshop and make dolls. They creeped Mark out a little bit, but it seemed to be a charming little habit. At least it was better than the scary pregnancy routine.

“I’m home, honey! Eat up!”

Mark entered the house triumphantly, finding all that was on his list at the grocery store. Surprisingly, he wasn’t greeted by anything like ‘ Finally!”  or ‘ What took you so long?’  In fact, he wasn’t greeted by anything at all. He was a bit disturbed by the sudden disappearance, but assumed she was just in her room working. He decided to set the groceries in their appropriate places in the fridge, cupboard and freezer, before taking the opportunity of quiet to slump onto the couch and flip on the TV. It was only seconds before he was fast asleep.

Meanwhile, in Esther’s workshop, a sewing needle stitched the last of a small spool of thread into the dress of a new doll. It wasn’t quite perfect, but she was working on it. She hoped to be able to make factory-grade dolls by the time her first child was old enough to talk. She grunted in concentration as the needle plunged in and out of the small pores in the fabric. In somewhat of a trance, she gradually yet easily connected each string into one article of fabric, covering the doll up where she wanted it to be covered, leaving holes for hands and feet.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The finishing product was a small, light, and eyeless cloth and cotton-yarn doll. Esther gazed at her masterpiece with pride and excitement. She would be giving this doll away to some neighborhood kids, along with some other dolls she had made in the past few weeks. It would be great. The smiles of the children would complete her until her own kid was born.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Unfortunately for her, it came a lot sooner than planned.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The baby was due in May; she went into labor in March. It was a shocking event, she had just started working on her latest doll design when the contractions began: not just regular contraction, but  the  contractions. She had shouted for her husband immediately and Mark Smith, father-to-be, rushed her to the hospital in a panic.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">He, like Esther, was shocked and scared. Something was seriously wrong with the whole situation, and something bad would surely happen today. Mark’s nightmares were beginning to come true.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Esther, I need you to push as hard as you can,” a very young doctor, Dr. James, coached her. He seemed fresh out of college, yet still very experienced in the area of babies. Esther pushed with all her might, veins pulsing from her forehead as pressure built inside of her. She felt like giving up every time a painful spasm overtook her, but she never did. She continued to tell herself how all of this pain would be worth it when she had a kid in her life. A child of her own.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Will the baby be okay?” Mark questioned, scared and angry.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I’m not sure,” Dr. James began. “The baby isn’t supposed to come for another few months. I’m sorry to tell you, but it would be a miracle if your child survives.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">This inevitable information sent chills down Mark’s spine. He felt tears begin to build up in his eyes. His heart seemed to stop momentarily, beads of sweat forming on his increasingly pale face. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Esther couldn’t hear anything that was spoken through her own screams.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The birth lasted several hours; the surgeons performed an emergency C-section to get the baby out. However, it didn’t help prevent the inevitable. Esther and Mark Smith had a miscarriage; their child was a stillborn.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther was sent home only three days after, still weak and tired from her exhausting labor. It hadn’t been easy for Mark, either. Depressed and lonely, he spent a majority of his time inside. He seldom came to the table for any meals, he rarely went to bed with Esther, and only once did he even tell her he loved her since the incident. Both were going through immense grief, but Mark wasn’t even willing to do the one thing that could help him or his wife.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">It was only a year after the miscarriage when he left her.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">All that was left for poor Esther was her doll-making. Everyday, instead of getting a real job, she sat upstairs and made dolls. She would spend hours at a time to work on perfecting her dolls, each and every one of her masterpieces reflected her feelings. In fact, one doll she made seemed particularly sad. The creation was made with bluish-purple yarn and given buttons for eyes, unlike her other dolls, which had nothing to resemble eyes. She had stitched a frown onto its face, drawing a teardrop on its cheek with a marker.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I’ll name you Mark,” she had stated to no one in particular when she had finished, setting him right across her desk on the windowsill. She started skipping church to work on her other inanimate children. After signing her official divorce papers, she became recluse, changed her name back to Echowater, and became the old hag of the neighborhood. In 1989, at only 23, children were afraid to go to her house.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther wouldn’t admit it, but she missed all of the kids. She missed their laughter, their excitement, and their playfulness. She missed all of those days giving away dolls to children who needed them most. But most of all, she missed their smiles, though she wouldn’t admit it.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">One day, she had been bringing breakfast to her room when the doorbell rang.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What do you want? I thought I was the madwoman of Beechwood Drive?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“The what?” The voice from the outside was slightly confused. “I just came to visit. May I come in?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther wasn’t expecting this, but she wasn’t going to show her surprise. “Fine. Just open the door, it’s unlocked.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">There was a small click and the doorknob turned. The opaque, wooden door was opened and a tall, admittedly handsome man stepped through. Esther was taken aback ever-so-slightly.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What do you want? I have work to do.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The man smiled kindly, ignoring the venom in Esther’s voice. “Sorry to interrupt you, but I thought you would recognize me. I’m Daniel Clarke from church.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther’s heart fluttered. He reminded her of Mark; he was handsome, polite, and even named after a bible character. Though the memories of her previous marriage were painful, the prospect of hope for future love was too good to resist.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Well, what exactly did you want from me, Daniel? Donations?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">He laughed light-heartedly. His grin was infectious and Esther found herself beginning to smile, the ends of her lips twitching. Daniel continued.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Of course not. I just wanted to say that the congregation has been missing you at church. I think…  we  think you should come back.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther’s smile grew into a large grin. Larger than any grin she had displayed in several years.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I’ll think about it,” she replied, evenly.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">That week, she ended up returning to church after all. It felt good to finally be out of the house and have a life again, but it felt even better to think about how she could hit it off with Daniel. The preacher had welcomed her back, and several old friends of her’s were excited to see her return to the church she hadn’t attended in so long. Esther felt happy again, even if just a little bit.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">That night, when she returned home, she ran straight to her workshop. She had a face in her mind and a set of clothes ready to be imagined into life. Inspiration had struck that weekend, and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. She grabbed her sewing needle from the drawer, happiness still filling her bones. She was in love again, she was sure at this point. Maybe their was hope for her dreams, yet. Maybe she could have a child of her own after all.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Things went well over the next few months. Daniel ended up asking Esther out for dinner only a week after they’d met. Esther had of course agreed. They went on dates very often over the next few months, and Esther’s dolls began to look happier as she made them. They were created with brighter colors and warmer faces, reflecting her own feelings.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">It wasn’t long until Esther Echowater became Esther Clarke, and she was joined once more by a loving husband. At first, the couple lived apart, Daniel living in his own house in Baltimore, Maryland, with Esther remaining at her workshop. They weren’t quite pleased with the arrangement at first, but Esther seemed to be able to bear it. However, Daniel didn’t feel as good about it.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Please move in,” Daniel had begged. “I can’t stand being apart from you. Besides, we’re married! How are we to maintain a healthy marriage if we can’t even sleep in the same bed?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I can’t leave my dolls,” Esther had replied. “As soon as I sell them, I’ll make sure I move in with you. Deal?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Daniel had agreed to those terms at first, but every time he would ask her about it, she seemed to have even more dolls in her house. She didn’t seem to be selling them to anyone, and she definitely didn’t seem to show any interest in moving in.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What have you been doing up here?” Daniel Clark stormed into Esther’s workshop for the first time, only to be stared at by several dolls. Esther wasn’t in the room, so Daniel decided to go ahead and look around. It was honestly a creepy place. Eyeless dolls peered at him as he passed each of them making his way over to the actual desk of the workshop. The room itself was dimly lit, the only light coming from the slits in between the blinds of the window. In front of the window sat one of Esther’s frowning dolls, Mark.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Daniel rolled his eyes in exasperation, coming across a list of dolls to sell. It was frustrating to know that this woman had made a whole entire list of the dolls, but couldn’t bother selling any of them.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Go to hell.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">A shocked gasp escaped Daniel’s lips when he heard the sudden voice of a fully grown man. He blushed slightly at the language. He had never been told to go to hell before; he had been going to church consistently his whole life.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Who said that?” Daniel questioned no one in particular, his eyes scanning each and every inch of the room. That was a male voice, yet no one should be here.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Me,” replied the voice, amusement evident in the tone. Daniel couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from, but he decided the where wasn’t as important as the  who.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What’s your name?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Mark. I’m here to tell you to go to hell.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Daniel’s brow furrowed in thought. Esther had once told him of a man named Mark, her previous husband who had left her.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Why are you in this house? She’s married to me now, not you. Don’t you have another house to go back to?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“House?” Mark chuckled, his laughter echoing all around the house, making Daniel’s ears ache. “How could I live in a house? I’m  dead !”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">A chill shot straight down Daniel’s spine, and a spell of dizziness overtook him briefly. Had he just said what he thought he said? How could it be?

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">It only took a second for the pieces to click in Daniel’s mind. He slowly turned to the window, only to see Mark the frowning doll. However, he wasn’t frowning. He was grinning.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Wickedly.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Panic flared up in Daniel’s soul as he back up towards the door.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I rebuke thee…”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Shut up!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">There was a loud crack of thunder outside as rain began to fall, battering the window with wind and water. He jolted, fear rising inside of him.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“The Lord is my light and my salvation-- whom shall I fear?” Daniel recited, memories of his childhood Sunday School lessons flooding back to him. “The Lord is the stronghold of my life-- of whom shall I be afraid?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Me! You should and will be afraid of  me! ”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">As Daniel prayed and recited the Psalms, ‘Mark’ continued to berate him with insults. One may mistake the ghost’s vulgarity for strength, but you would be wrong. This demon was desperate, and Daniel knew it. As he prayed, he felt his own fear subsiding, his doubts disappearing. Mark’s voice grew quieter and quieter until there was nothing. Not even the rain.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Daniel couldn’t handle that house; he dragged Esther away from there as quickly as possible. Not once did he ever mention his demonic encounter with her ex-husband, which may have seemed beneficial at the time. However, telling her about it that day would have saved the couple so much trouble.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">As time went on, Esther announced her second pregnancy, and everyone was completely overjoyed. Daniel ended up forgetting about the incident and focused on taking care of Esther and their unborn child. He was almost as excited as she; they both wanted kids quite badly.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Right on time, in the middle of March, Mary Ruth Clarke was born. Esther and Daniel had been praying for months that the birth would go okay, and it did. Esther was simply ecstatic that, after all of these years, she finally had a child of her own. Daniel felt the same way, deciding to give Mary her own room instead of sharing a room with her parents. Esther had even been willing to give up her workshop for this child, which meant a lot more than it sounded. However, this didn’t stop Esther from living her dream. To Daniel’s dismay, Esther decided to recreate her workshop in the garage, making dolls just as she did before, except taking it a step further. By now, Esther wanted to make something more than just old yarn-dolls, she wanted to make something even better than that for her only daughter: porcelain dolls.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">By 1996, Mary was 4, and Esther was 30. All of Esther’s dolls had been given to Mary by now, saving Daniel from having to buy toys for her. He could spend his work money on the necessities of life like food, bills, etc.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Hello, Mary! Would you like to see what I made for you today?” Esther strode into the toddler’s room, holding something behind her back.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What is it, Mommy? Did you make me another toy?” Mary bounced up and down in anticipation for the new doll. She was used to receiving new yarn dolls on a regular basis, but she didn’t expect the present she got this time.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“It’s a doll, all right, but guess what?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“It’s a  fancy  doll! It’s made out of porcelain!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Wow!” Mary had absolutely no idea what porcelain was, but she was completely excited nonetheless.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther took the doll out from behind her back and displayed it in front of her starry-eyed daughter. This brand new doll sported a sweet smile, a small dress, and an adorable apron.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Her name is Snack Time Mary!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mary’s eyes lit up. “Mary? That’s my name!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Yes, it is! This doll is named after you!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Really? Cool!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther grinned, watching Mary’s face light up and watching her smile broaden. It was heart-warming. Suddenly, she heard Mary gasp.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I found a string!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther looked lovingly at her daughter. “Go ahead and pull it. Mary can talk!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She heard the doll’s voice box wind up as Mary pulled the cord from the doll’s back.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The intended ‘ It’s snack time!’  phrase squeaked out sweetly.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I love her! And mommy, I love you!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther’s eyes widened in brief surprise before sinking into the hug that Mary had just given her.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Little did they know, this doll would bring a lot more trouble than they think.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;height:11pt;">

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Daniel Clarke lay in bed, his eyes closed and his body relaxed, but he wasn’t asleep. He had a horrible feeling he just couldn’t shake; something terrible was going to happen, he just knew it. Rain and wind pounded the glass of the large window over the bed he shared with his wife. The night was cold, and no amount of blankets or cuddling could change the chill his body was feeling.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Esther, you awake?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">He sat up to wait for a reply. He heard a few snippets of complete gibberish from Esther before she slipped back into unconsciousness.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I guess not.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Daniel rolled over and pulled the copious amount of blankets from him before stepping off the bed. Quietly, he tiptoed over to the door and exited, leaving Esther to snore through her dreams. Careful not to wake anyone, he slipped into Mary’s room to check on her.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Inside, Mary was bundled up in sheets and a quilt with Snack Time Mary trapped tightly by the child’s arms. He sighed, his bad feeling still residing in the back of his mind. However, it made him happy to see his little girl all wrapped up with her new friend. It was sweet of Esther to make her a doll so intricate.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">All he had ever seen his wife make were cloth and cotton dolls. He never thought she’d have the ability to pull off a porcelain doll, especially one that talks. It couldn’t have been easy.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Your mommy loves you very much,” he whispered, kissing his beloved daughter on the forehead. “And so do I.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">There was a sudden boom of thunder, lightning flashed outside and lit up the whole room. Mary began to stir.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Daddy, what was that? What are you doing here?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I’m just saying goodnight,” Daniel whispered back. “Go back to sleep, it’s just a storm.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“But I don’t like storms, Daddy. What if it blows the house away? What if I lose you?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Daniel sighed, smiling tiredly. “We’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mary didn’t seem quite content with that answer, but decided to doze off once again. Her father, growing more and more tired by the second, began to walk back to his room. As he shut the door though, he paused. His horrible feeling was back, and it was stronger than ever. That was when he heard an all-too-familiar voice.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“‘We’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere.’ What kind of lies have you been telling your poor child?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">He froze, listening to the voice and recognizing it. He looked around for a maniacally grinning doll, but saw nothing.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What do you want, Mark?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Well, I want many things. I want your freedom, your family, your soul…” the spirit cackled and Daniel stiffened, the rain beginning to pound harder on the house.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I’m not letting you have any of those things. Now leave this house and my family alone. Forever!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Oh, I think I could easily gain two of those things…” Mark stated vaguely. His goal was to frighten Daniel into submission, and he was succeeding.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The frightened father, alone in the dark hallway, decided to scurry back into his  room and hop back into bed. Maybe if he fell asleep, the demon wouldn’t bother him. Of course, that was never how it worked.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Stay awake, Daniel Clarke. I’m not finished speaking with you.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Well I am,” he whispered back, feeling small and insignificant. He was letting a demon get the best of him. Now, all he had to do was pray and the horrible thing would go away. However, as he began, he felt a red-hot pain across his left shoulder. He winced and held back a shout so as not to wake up the rest of his family. He glanced at the painful area and noticed a small amount of blood rising up through the fabric of his undershirt. It was obviously Mark.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Obviously.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Come to the church tonight, alone,” Mark commanded. Daniel didn’t know what else do do so he obeyed.

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<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">That morning, Esther jolted awake to see Daniel gone. She assumed he had gone to work, and decided to get dressed and check on little Mary and her new favorite doll. She was excited to see her little girl again that day. She just couldn’t get enough of her sweet daughter.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Wake up, Mary,” Esther murmured, briskly stepping into the small bedroom. She gently shook Mary, smiling as she wrapped her arms tighter around her doll, waking up. She blinked at the sunlight that was beaming in from outside.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Good morning, Mommy,” she rubbed her eyes. Sitting up, she lay Snack Time Mary beside her.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Can you hold her?” Mary asked her mother, gesturing to the doll. “She wants to eat breakfast, too.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She quickly pulled the doll’s string from its back and the doll recited its usual line, “It’s snack time!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Playing along, Esther giggled. “I see. I guess I’ll go set an extra spot at the table for her then.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">As she went downstairs to the kitchen, Mary began to get dressed.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">That morning, the family was short one person. Daniel usually made it a point to at least stay until after breakfast so he could spend a little time with his daughter in the mornings, but Esther guessed he must have been super busy at work that day. It was a little bit unorthodox, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. At least, that’s what she continued to tell herself. Throughout the day, she played with her daughter and doll, wondering when her husband would arrive.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">But he never did.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The next day was what would become one of the worst days of her life. Daniel hadn’t come home that night, and hadn’t even bothered to call her. Mary was sad and missed her father, and Esther was plagued with severe paranoia. Her mind always went to the darkest of scenarios, the most horrific things that could happen to him. And yet, the reveal of his whereabouts came in such an unexpected way.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Through a doll.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther had been laying in bed that night, when she heard a loud, ear-splitting laugh come from above her head. She flinched, shocked that such a loud noise would come from her room, much less at that time of night. She sat up, scared to death.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What in all Heaven or Earth was that?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“You missed one,” remarked the intruder, his voice echoing around her head, making her feel like she was going crazy.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Who are you? What  are you?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“ ‘What’  is a good choice of words, Esther Echowater. Or should I say Clarke? Or  Smith ?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“You will call me by my real name, Clarke. Now tell me who you are before I call the police.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I’m not sure the police can help you with this one, Esther.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther could recognize the voice, but couldn’t quite think of exactly who it was. It was someone she had once known before, someone very important to her. But the only person who fits that description is…

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;"> Was …

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mark Smith.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She shook her head. It was all a horrible nightmare, and soon she’d feel the glorious heat of the sun on her face, lying in her bed with her Daniel right next to her and her daughter in the other bedroom. Mark couldn’t really be here, he had left her. Even if he was, how did he find her house? She had moved from her previous home and hadn’t ever seen Mark since he’d gone. How could it be?

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“...Mark?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“That’s me,” he replied, causing Esther to almost faint. She began to get dizzy, sitting down on her bed to steady herself.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“How did you find me? How could you possibly know where I live?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She then heard a loud cackle, and she had to close her ears to avoid going deaf. It seemed like forever before the laughter stopped, and even then, Esther was still shivering.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Do you really want to know that, honey?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She hesitated before answering the question. She knew what her answer would be already, but she wasn’t sure if it was a good one. This situation could get bad in many different ways. But she pushed forth, answering her ex husband with as much force as she could muster.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Yes. Tell me.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mark replied with a laugh. “Okay, then look up.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She did, and what she saw was ingrained deeply into her mind for the rest of her life.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">There, in her window above the bed, was a silhouette of a doll. A yarn doll. A very special one…

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mark. Not the human, but the doll.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther’s first instinct was to run, but as soon as she began to bolt to the door, it slammed in front of her, almost catching a few of her toes and fingers.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“You’re not escaping me, Esther. I’ve been wanting to make you pay for a very long time. Ever since you gave birth, all i could think about was how stupid I was. I had let you trick me into trying to have a baby with you, only to be plagued with a miscarriage. Yet, did you take any blame?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Mark, I didn’t trick you! It wasn’t my fault, it isn’t something that can be helped!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Why not?! Why must life be so unfair as to force me to go through such terrible grief like having the hope of a child being ripped away from you? This is all your fault!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“No, it’s not…”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Shut up!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">A severe pain flared up on Esther’s cheek and she was swatted back to her bed. Tears began to form in her eyes, and fear swelled in her heart.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“You may not think this is your fault, but it is. All I could ever think about was how you tricked me into thinking you weren’t infertile. You ruined my life! And whether you believe it or not, it is  completely  your fault!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther didn’t even have the strength to answer. Tears streamed down her face.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What can I do?” she meekly whispered, not expecting an answer.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Go to the church,” came the demonic reply. Esther was taken aback, but still didn’t speak.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Why?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“There’s something there that you need to see. After I died, I watched you and your husband have a child of your own. I needed the revenge I’ve been longing for, so I took it. Go to the church and see it for yourself.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">With that, Esther’s door opened, and Mark the doll’s silhouette disappeared. She took that as an opportunity to sprint out of the room, grab her daughter, and leave. Esther hopped into her car after strapping Mary into her seat.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“My doll,” she had whined, realizing that Snack Time Mary lay friendless in her room. “My doll is all alone!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I’m sorry, honey, but we need to go somewhere very important.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">As tears began to fall from the child’s face, Esther had to look a away and block out the sound of her wails. She couldn’t bear it, but she had to. She had to go to the church, or the safety of her child could be at stake.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Little did she know, it wasn’t her child who was in danger.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The church hadn’t met since the previous Sunday, so the building remained deserted, all except for Daniel’s car which was parked outside the entrance.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had happened since she'd last seen him, and why he was even at the church in the first place. Why did Mark send her here, and why was Daniel here already? Could this have to do with the revenge he was talking about?

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She didn’t want to believe it, but she knew it did. And as soon as she walked into the sanctuary, it was confirmed. With a crying Mary in the stroller, the whole room echoed with the sound, like a ghost’s screams. The room was stinking of decomposition, blood and infection. It was revolting to her, and even Mary stopped crying to hold her nose.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">But the smell was nothing compared to the sight.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The red-carpeted aisle was wet in some places, and it felt sticky. The air smelled metallic as she walked towards the pulpit in the front. Mary must have been tired out from all her screams, because she was now sound asleep. Esther was glad she couldn’t see what she saw.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">A pair of eyes, not attached to a body, sat on the pulpit and stared back at her. Bile began to rise in her throat and she gagged, the smell and thought of the crime was too much for her.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">But that wasn’t all.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The dismembered body of her husband, covered in flies, lay in front of the ornate stained glass window behind the baptistry. Blood still oozed from the sockets where his eyes once were, and stumpy scabs had formed over what was left of his appendages.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mary snored and Esther cried; dying on the inside. She was finished, her whole life lay in front of her, right in the stroller she held tightly in her hands. All that was left was Mary. All that was left.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Nothing would ever happen to her. Ever.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">As soon as Esther had made it back home, she took action. Her new workshop, the attic, was destroyed, and with it went her life. Her passion. She couldn’t do anything to stop Daniel’s death, but she would definitely try to do something about Mary’s.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">That night, as her daughter slept, she grabbed her and placed her on a makeshift bed in the attic. No one would get to her there. Ever. No demon would kill her, or even make contact with her at all. Nothing would happen to her family.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She locked the door. Mary was trapped.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">But Esther felt so free.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;height:11pt;">

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">For years, Mary lived in the attic, away from her doll and her family. Every day a few small trays of food and water were slid under the door, along with simple notes saying things like, ‘ I love you,’  or ‘ I’ll see you soon.’

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mary didn’t see her mother in the flesh for a very long time. She had no friends. She had no life, no home. She just was.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">And yet she wasn’t.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She went crazy.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther didn’t notice throughout this time. Every day she convinced herself that she was doing what was best for her child, and that any mother in her place would do the same. She wasn’t crazy, just scared. Just a little. Besides, it wouldn’t be long before that demon was gone for good, and she could be let out again.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">But for now, she had to make do with what she had. And all that she had left of her daughter was her doll, Snack Time Mary.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mary.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She went mad, making Snack Time Mary dolls every single chance she had. She filled up several rooms with the same dolls, vowing to sell every single one of them to local stores and corporations. She’d get famous. She’d get powerful. No demon could get to her then, not ever.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">However, there was one doll she could never sell to anyone, no matter how much they paid her for it: the original Snack Time Mary. It was all she had left of her daughter, and she’d never give it up. In some ways it was her daughter.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Or at least that was what she thought.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Everyday, she would take Snack Time Mary downstairs and feed her breakfast. She put her in the stroller and took her on long walks all the time, treating her like she would treat her real daughter. They were the same in her eyes. It was her only family.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She eventually forgot her real daughter, who had grown older over the years. She was 11 years old in 2003, and she was beginning to get desperate. She didn’t even remember a life where she hadn’t been stuck in this attic. It was her new home, the only place she’d ever known. And yet, though she was used to it, something felt wrong. She couldn’t bring herself to even talk anymore, because no one ever heard her. She couldn’t bring herself to even dance anymore, because no one ever saw her. She couldn’t even bring herself to open her eyes sometimes, because there was no one to share her life with. No siblings, no friends, not even a single parent. There was no point.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She knew it, and made a decision the day she discovered it.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She decided to stop it all. Forever.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;height:11pt;">

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Sometimes there are powers greater than any we know. Sometimes, things that we can’t understand can have more control over us than we have over ourselves. Sometimes, whether we believe it or not, beings exist that mean to harm us. And other beings exist to help us. Some do both. It had been years since Esther had left the church for a second time. No one dared come into her house, fearing she would go crazy and kill them. She wasn’t capable of killing yet, but they had know way of knowing that.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">One day, though, a familiar creature came to Esther after being gone for several years.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“It’s been a long time.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther had been sound asleep in her bed before being shook out of sleep by the demonic, familiarly scary voice.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“M-Mark,” she stuttered, horrified despite her tiredness. “Leave,  now! ”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">A booming laughter shook the whole house, and Snack Time Mary fell from her side of the bed that she shared with her ‘mother’.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Why would I leave? You can’t get rid of me. What are you going to do, pray me away?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I don’t need prayer to get away from you. I refuse. What did God ever do for me?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">There was a brief pause, as if the demon was thinking. “He’s done many things for you; things you don’t even know. But you don’t believe anymore, do you? You let  fear  take control, and now you’re crazy. Now I have the power over you.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“No. No you don’t. Give me one reason why I should believe you!” Esther angrily stepped out of bed, looking defiantly at the silhouette in her window. “You have absolutely  no  power over me! I have control over myself; only me !”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“You know nothing,” stated Mark, his voice remaining neutral in tone. “Go upstairs and look. Go into the attic you haven’t been in for so many years. You’ll be able to see your daughter again.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What?” Esther then gestured to the doll. “That’s my daughter, right there. You’re a liar!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“No, you stupid   girl. I’m talking about your  real  daughter.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">And it was at that moment that Esther sat back down on her bed, and cried. How could she have forgotten her own daughter? The whole reason this was happening was because she had locked her away to protect her, but how could she protect her when she had forgotten her completely? She had replaced her. With a doll.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">It was sick, and she knew it. She must apologize.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I’ll go to the attic,” she murmured, anger rising once again in her voice. Mark didn’t react to the hostility.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Good idea,” he remarked. “I’ll come with you.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;height:11pt;">

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Bright light shone from the large, round window in the attic. The once-gorgeous room was now left in a coat of dust, old dolls and food trays lay scattered everywhere. A small pile of tattered sheets lay atop a large piece of cardboard. Many rank smells were emitted from the room. Of mold, mildew, dust, and the now-familiar smell of rotting flesh. A wave of guilt flooded over Esther as she studied the room.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Mary?” Her calls were quiet, since she was afraid to scare her. It had been too long since she’d had any real human contact.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She wasn’t surprised when there was no reply. She must hate her now. Esther felt horrible about what she did, especially since it had been done in vain. Mark still came and tormented her.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">But it seems things could only get worse.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther, about to call out again, noticed the light flickering. There weren’t any lightbulbs up here, so how could a light be flickering? There was no malfunctioning electricity, only a window.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The window…

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She looked up, and was shocked and deeply disturbed to see a rope hanging from the ceiling, holding the body of her decomposed daughter.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">She was dead. She killed herself.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The body swayed in front of the window, blocking out the light and creating an eerie shadow across the other wall. Esther screamed in agony. Absolute dread soaked her to the bone.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Her daughter was scrawny, her head flopped to the side, limp. Her tongue, swollen and black, stuck out of her mouth, covering her green-yellow teeth and peeling lips. It couldn’t have been more than a year since her death, though the stench of her corpse was still far too much for Esther to bear. She cried out repeatedly, collapsing to the floor. Tears streamed from her eyes and she banged her fist on the wooden floor.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What did I do?” Esther sobbed, her shoulders shaking and chest heaving. “How could I have deserved all of this? All I ever wanted was a child, and yet the universe had to take my only chance of happiness away from me! My husband is dead, my daughter is dead, and I might as well be!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“What is it you wish me to do,” Mark asked, seemingly amused by the scene before him.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“I want you to kill me!” Esther Echowater screamed with all of her might. “Kill me please! I want to see my husband and daughter again! I want to be a family! I don’t care about anything else! Just  kill me! ”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mary swung from the noose, her open eyes continuing to stare blankly into space.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Mark mused, his voice becoming less happy and more thoughtful. “I will gladly kill you. But I do have one request.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Yes! Anything! I don’t care what I have to do!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Well, good. I’d like you to give me permission to possess your dolls.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Esther was confused for a brief moment. “What? I thought you already could. You’ve already possessed Mark the doll, can’t you just possess any others?”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mark was annoyed. “No, unfortunately I can’t. Mark the doll was meant for me. I  am  Mark, and you made this doll after me; I was meant to possess it. I need your permission to possess any other dolls of yours that I want to. Specifically the ones that mean the most to you.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“You mean Mary’s doll, Snack Time Mary? Of course you can possess any of them! I don’t care what you do to them, this house, or even this world! Just  kill me!”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mark’s laugh rang out, louder than ever before. The window shattered, and shards of glass marred Esther’s face. She screamed in pain.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“Shut up,” Mark growled, his laugh immediately stopping. “The deal is done, you stupid,  stupid  woman.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">At once, the demon rushed into the nearest corpse it could find: Mary.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">As the rope swayed, the body convulsed, her blank eyes rolling to the back of her head.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Blank eyes.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Like Esther’s dolls.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">How fitting.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Mark flicked his wrist with Mary’s body, pulling Esther towards the rope. Terrible, excruciatingly painful screams were projected from Esther as Mary’s claw-like nails dug into her eye sockets. Esther tried to recoil, and attempted to shrivel away from the possessed body of her daughter, but as she did so, Mark pulled. Her eyes were ripped out.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">He stuffed them down her throat.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">“There. Now you’re quiet.”

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;text-indent:36pt;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">The last thing she’d ever seen was her daughter’s expressionless face, now torn apart by broken glass. It was so beautiful. She would be reunited with her once more.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">With that, Esther Echowater went limp. She was dead.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">And the demon was free.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">To this day, the Echowater House of Baltimore, MD has only been sold to one family before being burnt down: The Marcsons.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">If you ever see a Snack Time Mary doll, don’t go near it. Don’t think about it. Just pray.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;orphans:2;widows:2;">Pray that it won’t eat you. <ac_metadata title="Esther Echowater (How do I fix this story? Is the formatting wrong or the story wrong, what do I need to do to make it the best it can be?)"> </ac_metadata>