Page 3 of Dolls of Ruin

“You,” I said, tilting my head as I carefully wiped the dust from his features, “look like the kind of trouble people can’t help but be drawn to.”

The chains gleamed faintly as I worked, each link catching the light in a way that made them feel almost alive. Placing him back with the others, I glanced at the lineup still waiting for their turn.

Their faces, so unique, seemed to watch me, their presence filling the room in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

I leaned against the counter, wiping my hands on the towel tucked into my pocket. “Alright,” I said with a deep breath, glancing at the lineup, “who’s next?”

Three

Somewhere in the shop,the heater kicked on, filling the silence with just enough noise to make me feel less alone.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been working, but judging by the dull ache in my lower back, it was long enough. I stretched, glancing over at Sun and Moon sitting proudly on one side of the counter. Polished to perfection.

The rest of the dolls? Not so much. Their expectant faces stared back at me like they were waiting for me to get my act together.

“Alright, alright,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles. “Let’s make some magic.”

The Fire Doll felt alive in my hands, his molten cracks catching the light like they were about to burst open. His blazing orange eyes burned with an intensity that made me feel like he was daring me to drop him.

“Okay, you’re a lot,” I muttered, carefully running the cloth along the edges of his face before focusing on a particular stubborn smudge on his jawline. “The type that steals the show...and maybe burns the building down while you’re at it.”

I wiped a mark from his shoulder, then tilted his head back to inspect the faint glow in the cracks running along his porcelain.“You’d probably make someone very nervous,” I added with a small laugh, “but you’d love every second of it.”

Placing him on the counter felt like setting down a live wire.

Ice was his opposite in every possible way.

His frosted porcelain skin was so smooth it felt like glass, the crystalline veins etched across his body giving him an otherworldly quality. As I cleaned him, the chill beneath my fingertips was so sharp it sent a shiver up my spine.

“You’re intense in a completely different way,” I said softly, almost to myself. His piercing blue eyes caught the light, and I swore they glinted like shards of ice.

When I set him beside Fire, the doll I’d just subconsciously nicknamed, the two of them looked like they were locked in an eternal standoff. The contrast was striking—fire and frost, heat and chill, chaos and calm.

The next doll was stitched together from mismatched fabrics, his seams uneven but sturdy.

“Where’d you come from?” I asked, tilting my head as I inspected him. His glowing green eyes sparkled with mischief, and the crooked grin stitched into his face practically dared me to guess his story.

I tugged gently at a loose thread on his shoulder, then stopped myself. “You’re a troublemaker, huh? I bet you’d unravel the second I look away.”

The name came out of nowhere, slipping from my lips before I could think better of it. “Nico,” I said, grinning despite myself. “That’s what I’m calling you. Fits, doesn’t it?”

Setting him down felt like putting a prankster in time-out. His grin seemed to stretch wider, but I refused to look twice.

The next trio caught my eye immediately. Their crimson-veined porcelain tied them together, but it wasn’t just that—they had a presence that felt...connected, like they belonged to the same story.

I picked up the first doll and turned him in my hands. His features were sharp and commanding, his blood-red eyes daring me to look away. The crimson veins etched across his body were bold, almost aggressive, like cracks that had been carved on purpose.

“You’ve got that whole ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe,” I murmured, brushing a faint layer of dust from his collar. His posture felt heavy, deliberate, like he was used to being in charge.

Setting him down, I reached for the second doll. He was softer, his expression patient, his veins more delicate, like threads of crimson woven into his porcelain.

“You’re different,” I said quietly, smoothing the fabric of his jacket. “Calmer. The kind of doll that tries to keep the peace.”

The third one made me pause. His jagged grin was the first thing I noticed, followed by the erratic veins that ran across his body like lightning. He practically buzzed with chaotic energy, and I found myself smiling despite the unease prickling at the back of my neck.

“And you’re definitely the troublemaker,” I muttered, inspecting his wild features.

I stepped back to look at all three together. The resemblance was undeniable now—the sharpness of their features, the crimson veins tying them together, even the way they seemed to fit naturally into a group.

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