She Walks in Beauty (Inktober, Wednesday, October 7)

For Inktober, Wednesday, October 7, 2020. Prompt word: "fancy." Tuckerization: Tommy Chastain 

A reminder that volunteering for tuckerization only means a character in the story shares the participant's name. Other than that, there are no other similar characteristics implied. 

She Walks in Beauty

by Alan Loewen 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

                                                She walks in beauty, like the night
                                                Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
                                                And all that’s best of dark and bright
                                                Meet in her aspect and her eyes ...
                                                                                            ~ Lord Byron

Tommy could not help but notice the beads of sweat on the pawnshop owner's forehead. He smiled at the proprietor and returned to examining the doll. Coming in at four feet, she was amazingly light, and her detail was immaculate. Dressed in fancy Victorian dress and crinolines, any collector would have murdered to add her to their collection. 

Tommy could not recognize the material the body was made from. Neither porcelain, china, nor plastic, the skin was smooth and unblemished. 

"How much?" Tommy asked. The price on the tag said $400, yet the pawnshop owner was sweating. For some reason, he seemed very eager to let the doll go. 

After haggling, Tommy walked out of the shop carrying his newest prize. A steal at $200, Tommy knew he could resell the doll on eBay or Amazon Market for triple the price. 

Later, he examined the doll and her clothes for any identifying label or mark, but she remained an enigma. A search on the 'net could not pull up any dolls like her, and that would make her difficult to sell, but Tommy had made a decision. He was going to keep her, a permanent part of his collection. 

That night Tommy was awakened by a noise from his den. He listened for a moment and then heard the den door open. Tommy sighed to himself. Not this again, he thought. 

He raised himself up on one elbow and watched in the shadows as a four-foot-tall silhouette in Victorian dress ran by his bedroom door. "Now I know why the shop keeper let you go so cheap, Tommy muttered. "You scared the daylights out of him." 

Tommy got up and peaked around the door. From the kitchen came faint noises. And going for the knives. Why do they always go for the knives? 

Tommy went to the bed stand and opened a drawer taking out various holy symbols. He hung them from the doorknob, closed the door, and securely locked it. 

Without further ado, he climbed back into bed and went to sleep. 

The next morning the doll was back on her shelf along with the rest of Tommy's collection. Taking her carefully down, he found the butcher knife tucked among her petticoats. 

With a sigh, he took her down into the basement to his workshop. 

That night, he sat awake in his living room. At 1:11 in the morning, a time fancied by most animate dolls, he once again heard the door to his den open, followed by the sound of tiny shoes making their way down the hall. 

He waited until he knew she was hiding somewhere in the living room, stalking him. 

"I know you can see and hear me," he said. "I want to show you something. Do you see the tray on the little table near the window? Watch this." 

There was a flash, and a sudden pop as a device on the tray exploded. 

"Now that was just a tiny device. The one inside you is twice as powerful, and I have the controller. So, a question, my dear. Do you behave, or do I blow you into tiny bits?" He paused for a moment. "Good night. Just a reminder that I'm a light sleeper. I can turn you into a pretty firework well before you can even touch me." 

He got up and returned to his bed. Not too many minutes later, he again saw a silhouette in Victorian dress walk by his door back to his den. 

Tommy was determined to return to the pawnshop owner in the morning and find out who originally pawned the doll. Tommy had many, many questions. Especially as to why, when he cut the doll open to insert his explosive, the wound bled. 

Also, tomorrow he would have to talk to that preacher man he knew about obtaining some more holy water. The injections should keep the doll from any more nocturnal wanderings. Despite the explosive he implanted in her, Plan B's were always paramount. Anyway, the monthly holy water injections kept his other three dolls still at night, and Tommy had grown weary of hiding his kitchen knives. 

With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, rolled over, and went to sleep.