Back in Victorian London, there was a small girl named Lucy. She had grown up in an orphanage, never knowing her birth parents. Lucy was a good girl. She never really stood out from the other children. She minded the rules and was a very honest child. She had long curly brown hair that shone red in the sunlight and brown eyes that would range in color from a warm caramel color to a chocolate brown in certain light with fair ivory skin. She had only one friend, a girl named Emma. Emma was a lovely child with golden straight hair, clear blue eyes, and healthy lightly tanned skin. Emma was placed in the orphanage for a short time while her father found work to care for them. Her mother already lost in childbirth along with her second child. To replace the lost sibling Emma looked to little Lucy as a sister. The two girls were inseparable, until Emma’s father came to get her. She pleaded for him to take Lucy as well, but he couldn’t at the time. It was a few years later that they tried only to learn Lucy had already been adopted. It would be 13 years before the girls would see each other again though neither could have guessed how.
Lucy was only seven when she was adopted by a local toy maker and his wife. She had never been so happy in her young life. They lived in a modest house with two floors. Their rooms were all on the top floor with a kitchen and dining area as well as a parlor downstairs. In the back stood a large shed, which the toymaker had turned into an at home workshop. Every day they would walk the short distance down the street to their toyshop on the corner. The toymaker would work in his proper workshop in the back while his wife tended to the customers and Lucy was able to play with the children that came in. It was a neat little shop with the cash register on the small counter area by the door to the workshop and large glass windows facing the street. The other two walls were adorned with shelves with brightly colored toys sitting in neat rows and a few standing displays about the main floor. At the end of the day they would lock it once more before marching back home for supper and some time together before bed.
Her new mother taught her lots of songs that she loved to sing and her new father always made her the best toys. They were happy living this simple life with only each other look after. It was only a few months later when a big toy company opened shop nearby that things took a dark turn. With the sudden drop in business her father took to spending evenings at the pub while her mother tried her best to carry on their usual nightly routine without showing the worry she had for her husband. They say a drunk’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, but in the case of Lucy’s father the booze brought out a dark animal like nature from deep inside him. It was late in summer when her mother disappeared one night. Lucy awoke the next morning to find a new doll from her father laying on her bed. At that time when any one would ask Lucy where her mother was she would simply hold up the doll and say “Here she is.” at which point they would scold her for lying. Lucy would spend most of her time playing alone. She would plead with her father to play, but he would often tell her he was too busy with work or be in such a foul mood from drinking he would simply ignore her till she annoyed him and then chase her off to her room to leave him in peace. When shut up in her room the poor girl would hum “Pop Goes the Weasel”, her favorite song her mother taught her till her father would yell at her to shut up.
This pattern went on till early winter after a night of particularly heavy drinking her father finally snapped turning his crazed second nature on his beloved daughter. Upon waking the next morning the toy maker remembered nothing until he entered his daughter’s room to start their morning routine. Lucy’s body lay lifeless on her bed, blood was everywhere. Her head lay at the very top of her bed several inches from her body. The sight of it all was enough to push the frail toy maker’s mind past the breaking point. In his maddened state of grief he made quick work of sewing her head back to her body. He went on to open all of her joints and carve the ends of the bones to make doll joints before sewing them up again. He stitched her eyes open three stitches on top and bottom like the eyelashes of a cloth doll before sewing the corners of her mouth into a smile. The insane toy maker propped her up by her dolls as though she were one of them the special doll which had been carved from her mother’s bones laying in her lap. He then went about his day as usual and if any one asked about Lucy he would tell them she was sick at home in bed.
When he finally returned home that night, his real nightmare was just beginning. His little Lucy doll was now sitting at the small table in the kitchen, doll in hand with a full meal laid out on the table. He looked at the food for a long time, nearly jumping out of his skin as he heard the doll speak.
“Daddy,” it started. “Don’t you like the dinner me and Mommy made for you?” The man tried to scream in terror as the doll approached him only to find his voice had been stolen by pure horror.
“I just want to play with you, Daddy.” She said with a small giggle, leading her father by the hand to his workshop. In an instant Lucy took four large needles piercing her father’s hands and feet, securing him to his workbench. The terrified toy maker sobered in an instant pulling at the strings to get free. Lucy doubled and tripled the fastenings not wanting her father to get loose. She took a smaller needle and used it to sew his eyes open much as he had done to her’s, then moving to sew his mouth shut.
“Daddy’s yelling would end our play time.” She reasoned. The poor man watched helplessly as he watched his special girl looked over his tools of trade picking up a simple knife first making a long cut down his thigh. He screamed, though through his closed lips it sounded little more than a groan. She peeled back the skin to expose the bone, using a saw to cut it out. The toy maker was then forced to watch her carve the large section of femur into an ivory doll like the one he had made of his wife’s femur the night she had “disappeared”.
“Mommy said I could play with you like you played with her that night when she died and then you and Mommy can be together again.” Lucy said innocently. She grabbed a sharp curved knife, moving to scalp him to use as hair for the doll. The toy maker screamed in pain, trying fruitlessly to get free.
“Does Lucy need to secure your head next?” She asked though it was not her voice but her mother’s. His voice left him completely in that moment, grateful as the edges of his vision turned black. Lucy frowned, picking up several more needles before cutting open his chest watching his heartbeat.
“Mommy says you hurt her in the heart the most.” She noted, sticking the first pin in his heart. Adrenalin coursed through his body renewing his fight to stay alive. Lucy perked a little taking the chance to watch him bleed. When he had given up again he put two more pins in his heart to represent their small family.
“I love you, Daddy.” She whispered in his ear before using her nails to claw out his throat. In that last instant of life, he smiled. He smiled from an inexpressible sense of joy. Was it relief to be saved from this living nightmare? Or the thought of being reunited with his wife once more? They were both factors, but the core of it all was his family, his beloved daughter that he had turned into this nightmarish creature, that he had killed and turned into a doll to preserve her as he had done with his dear wife, still loved him.
Emma had never stopped wondering what became of her dear friend. She was 23 now with the start of a family of her own. A fine husband and a baby boy to carry his name. She cared for him at home while her husband went to work in the day often not returning till late. She always found it suspicious that he would so often have to work long after his family’s toy company would close for the day, but never asked him about it fearing what the answer would be. They lived like this in peace to all the world looking like the perfect happy family. That was going to change very quickly after one foul night.
It was a night like any other, her husband had returned and was sleeping soundly in their bed though suspiciously smelling of booze and perfume. Emma had gotten into the habit of sleeping in the nursery in case their son woke up crying so had hardly noticed when arrived home. However this night she woke up to laughter coming from her beautiful boy which in the middle of a calm night was more alarming than crying. It sent chills down her spine as she sat bolt upright gazing at his crib. She gasped rushing to the crib as she saw a girl playing with her son with a doll of some sort. It looked like it was a carved doll, but it couldn’t have been wood the color was far too light and the sheen off of it looked more like porcelain.
“Who are you?” She gasped in horror, picking up her son as her eyes caught sight of the blood that stained the girl’s dress.
“Lucy is a good little girl. She would never hurt those who didn’t deserve it.” The girl said softly turning slowly to look at her.
“My God! Lucy?! What happened to you?!” Emma gasped clutching her son to her breast, her heart thumping loudly in his ear.
“Liars should be punished.” She said simply, some of her carving tools still in her apron pockets. Emma looked at the doll noticing how it looked like her husband.
“Lucy, what did you do?” She asked, looking back at Lucy to see she was much closer to them now. “Please…don’t hurt us…I tried to find you…”
“Big sister stayed true to her word and tried to find me, but was in danger herself. Now she is safe.” Lucy grinned darkly up at her. Her eyes looked wild and fierce with how wide they were sewn open. “For the dead tell no lies.”