by Timothy P. Remp
The stench of rot and decay clung to the doll maker’s workbench. He ran his stained fingers through his thick curly hair and judged his work with a critical eye.
She was beautiful.
She had curly auburn hair, pouty lips—he couldn’t see the stitches--- and feathery eyelashes hiding her –stitched-- emerald eyes.
He adorned her in a flowing gown of alabaster, trimmed with white and rose ruffles, white stockings, and shiny buckled shoes. A dark velvet choker concealed the stitched gash from where droplets of rubies had tumbled.
Candlelight dance-shadows bequeathed a semblance of life to her stiff body.
“I love you,” he uttered, surprising himself how easily the words escaped his lips. He could never before say them to her.
He ignored the banging at the door of his shop. Someone screamed; someone cried out her name.
This is our moment, our private moment.
From his pocket, he retrieved a red felt box and knelt before her. He smiled as he opened it. A diamond ring sparked. “Be mine," he whispered and slid the ring on her rigid finger.
The door burst open. The Constable and his men rushed inside. A woman cried, “My daughter! My daughter!”
The doll maker turned to the crowd, holding his bride’s cold hand and smiled. “I made this.”
(Timothy P. Remp is a member of New England Horror Writers (NEHW) with a pending membership to the Horror Writer's Association (HWA). He has had several book reviews, flash and short stories published in both on-line and print publications including Shroud #7. He has won Honor Mention in the Writer's Digest Competition of 2009 for his original Dr. Who spec script, "Shadows of Chronopolis" and in the Clarity of Night’s ‘Silhouette’ short fiction contest 2010 with "Beyond the Nest." Currently, he is working on his bachelor's degree in English at UNH while working full time for Fairpoint Communications.)