Don't wish on a star. Don't thank them either. They're not lucky. They're cursed. It all started two weeks ago. I was walking home from the grocery store when I passed by the park. I saw a mother smiling and holding hands with her son while the boy skipped around in his own blissful world absent-mindedly humming a tune. The mother was smiling at him with a look of pure joy. I smiled at them shyly, then hurried to my house. I plopped my groceries on the table and felt the threat of tears well within me. I wiped my eyes as the thought of adoption flitted across my mind for the thousandth time then dissolved into hopeless reality.
I began to put away my groceries but left the popcorn out. Today was the meteor shower. I liked to think of meteor showers as shooting stars- more like falling stars. I went about my day remembering how exciting meteor showers were when I was a child- how much I would like to share that a child of my own. I had some stuff to do for work, but as soon as the clock struck ten, I popped my popcorn, got some hot cocoa, and headed outside on the stoop to watch meteors disintegrate into the atmosphere. I lazily chewed on popcorn, and the memories of the meteor showers of my youth overwhelmed me. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I closed my eyes and made the wish. I wished for a child.
After the shower was over, I headed back inside, threw my bowl in the sink, and jogged up the stairs to my room. I did not notice it immediately. I knew something was off, but when I noticed it, my heart jumped into my mouth. See, on my chest of drawers, I had a set of two dolls. One boy and one girl. The boy was missing. I searched behind the chest and underneath, but it was not there. There was no way someone sneaked into my house when I was not looking, and besides, who would steal some old doll? I walked into the living room in a state of confusion, and there I saw it sitting on the couch. I did not remember ever putting it there, but I supposed maybe I moved it when I did some cleaning and left it there. I picked it up, sighed, and did a dumb thing. I went back to my room and tucked the doll in bed with me.
When I awoke, I was pleased to find it was still there, and that maybe I was not crazy. I took it downstairs and ate breakfast with it. It sounds stupid, but I was really feeling depressed about being single, or more importantly, being without a kid to pass on traditions to like watching meteor showers. Before I left for work, I tucked it back into bed, and went to work. When I came back, I ate dinner with it and told it a story before bed. I convinced myself I was practicing for the real thing. This went on for a few weeks... until the incident.
I returned home from work one day to find the doll tucked securely in the bed covers, but the girl doll which I left on top of my chest of drawers was in pieces. It's arms and legs were detached, and it's head had been popped off. I looked back at the doll in my bed then to the girl doll. I carefully collected the pieces and set about fixing it. It was a shoddy job when I was finished, but it was good enough for it to go back on the stand. I decided the put the boy doll on its stand too that night. This had gone too far.
When I woke up the next morning, the boy doll was back in my bed. I jumped out of my covers with a shriek. I chalked it up to sleep walking and went down stairs to make some cereal. When I closed the refrigerator door, I looked behind me to see the doll sitting in the chair opposite the one I usually sit in. This was no sleepwalking. "Did you do it? Did you hurt your... sister?" I asked.
The doll remained in the same position with not an inch of movement. I grabbed the doll by the arm and rushed upstairs. I put it on its stand and returned downstairs. I ate my cereal and got ready for work. When I left, the doll was still on its stand.
I returned home later to the doll sitting in the couch downstairs while the TV was on playing after school cartoons. I was horrified. I ran upstairs and saw what could only be described as the remains of the girl doll. It was dismembered and broken. The fake hair was ripped out of its scalp and it lay strewn all over the chest of drawers. I bolted downstairs where the doll still sat in the couch. I grabbed the thing by the arm, the dropped it. Instead of feeling cold porcelain, I felt warm flesh.
Tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't know what to do. I still don't. The doll is growing and more flesh is spreading every day. I'm just waiting. Waiting for the day the flesh will spread to the heart so I can kill it, but it's heart cavity will not turn. It's just smooth porcelain. I just know I'll never be able to pass on my love of meteor showers to anyone now. I don't want anyone to wish on a star ever again.
Submitted May 10, 2017 at 07:26PM by SleepCinema http://ift.tt/2qSAPoM nosleep
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