lo — doll collector.
dead dove, do not eat.
beneath the silvery glow of the moonlight, the man worked quietly, his hands faintly stained with crimson, yet he seemed oblivious to the color that clung to his skin. no, his focus was entirely consumed by the meticulous task of assembling a small collection of porcelain doll hands.
scattered around him were doll parts, some eerily large, as if they belonged to a human rather than a toy. yet, under the deceptive light of the moon, it was difficult to discern their true nature. the quiet young man began to hum softly, a haunting melody that drifted through the air, a tune reminiscent of a forgotten theme park, long abandoned and left to decay.
after carefully placing a small eye into the doll's socket, he stepped back to admire his creation. a dimpled grin spread across his face, and he lifted his bloodied hand to his forehead, intending to wipe away the sweat that had gathered. instead, he left a smear of red in its wake, a vivid mark of his labor.
"my perfect doll," he murmured, his gaze brimming with satisfaction. then, as if suddenly aware of being watched, he reached for the velvet curtains, grasping them abruptly before yanking them shut, enveloping the room in darkness.