THE DOLLHOUSE The silence in the black night was shattered by three long knocks. The Jones were surprised but inviting to the tall stranger soaked by the summer storm. The storm was over now, but the dark clouds still cloaked the moon and stars. “Hi. My name is Tray Barns. I’m the new vet in town. Actually, I’m more of an assistant, but seeing as Dr. Green is retiring soon, I’ll be taking over. Anyway, I was over at the Down farm because their best calf was having a breech calf. It survived, though. My car stalled about a half an hour’s walk from here and I got caught in the storm,” the stranger said. Since he was new in Barkersville, he didn’t know the quaint people, or had yet heard the rumors going around about the Jones. “Well, come on in child! You must be soaked! My land, Henry, this is just our luck. Didn’t I just say somethin’ ‘bout us not gettin’ many vis’tors ‘round here!” the old woman exclaimed. “Now, Martha, quit jabberin’ and get the man something to eat,” Henry Jones said. It seemed kind of strange to Tray that the old farmer was wearing a long white coat that appeared to be a lab coat. An enormous black cat sauntered into the room, and upon seeing Tray, ran straight at him. He didn’t find this unusual since he had had a strange effect on animals since his childhood. It was, in fact, this characteristic that lead him into the field of veterinary medicine. What he did find strange was that, upon picking the large cat up, he could not find a heartbeat. He just dismissed it as a side effect of the excess weight of the cat. At any rate, the cat was already purring like a motorboat. “Looks like T.C.’s taken a real liking to you quick,” Henry said. “what does T.C. stand for?” asked Tray. “That Cat.” “That Cat?” “That’s what I said. It was Martha’s idea. Well, I should go on about a cat’s name. Come on, son, I can smell that delicious almond soup of my wife’s. Please excuse us, uh, we ate earlier,” Henry explained. The two traveled to the next room which was small, but cozy. A large bowl of reddish-brown soup that smelled delectable sat with a cloth napkin folded up next to it, and an extremely large spoon sat on the cloth. Apparently farmers didn’t use ordinary silverware. “Don’t let us keep you waitin’, boy. Dig in,” Martha urged. She seemed awfully anxious for Tray to eat. While he sat down, Henry began to talk. “It’s almond soup. One of my wife’s specialties.” “So, tell me about yourselves,” Tray said, anxious to get off the subject of almond soup. Henry said, “Well, it’s obvious enough that I’m a farmer. But in my spare time, I like to dabble in a little science. bought myself one of them new-fangled lab kits made for the kiddies. It has a lot of things in it that I use.” Tray tried the soup. It did indeed taste like almonds. after the first spoonful of soup, Tray realized all of a sudden, the numerous life-like dolls. They seemed to be staring at him, boring holes in him. Then Tray Barns dropped dead. * * * The next morning at the Baskerville police station, the phone rang. Aubrey Styls picked up the receiver. “Hello. Detective Styls speaking. Yeah. Yeah. O.K. Yeah...O.K.” click. “Hey Donald, we got a missing persons report. (pause) That new vet in town. Name’s Troy Barns, or somethin’ like that. anyway, he was last seen leaving the Down farm. Probably got caught in last night’s squall.(pause) Yeah, that’s what I said. Hopefully he didn’t stop at the Jones’ farm, but just in case, I’ll stop by there to question them. If I’m not back by 2:00, you know where I am.” Aubrey acquired a picture of Tray from Dr. Green. Then he reluctantly headed toward the Jones’ house. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones, I--” “Oh heavens, call me Martha.” “Fine, Martha, I am Detective Aubrey Styls,” Aubrey said, quickly flashing his badge, “Last night this young man, Tray Barns, headed out this way to the Down farm,” he said, showing the picture of Tray. “They said that he left there at about 8:00. We were wondering if maybe he had stopped by here last night.” “Oh yes, such a charming young man. he told us all about the problem with the Down’s cow. He stayed for a while to have some soup and--” “That’s nice, er, Martha, but I just asked if he had stopped here or not.” “Well, yes, he did.” “When?” “About five minutes after the storm had stopped.” “Thank you. Mind if I take a look around?” “No, come right in.” Aubrey walked in the front door only to be greeted by a large black cat. “T.C.,” the old woman scolded, “leave the young man alone.” She picked up the cat. Aubrey walked around. He noticed immediately all of the dolls throughout the rooms. He didn’t find that odd, since most country folk had obsessive hobbies, and figured each of these dolls to have extensive wardrobes. Or so he thought. He wondered why some dolls had expressions of horror, while others were totally lifeless. Then Aubrey noticed that the dolls’ eyes seemed to follow him across the room. As he walked into the dining room, he noticed a particular doll that seemed familiar, although he could not place it. It didn’t look quite as old or antique as some of the others, in fact, it seemed pretty new. He reached out to touch it and shuddered at the lifelike feel of the skin. On closer inspection, he realized that each doll had real hair, or a very life-like rendition of real hair. For a second, the eyes of the doll seemed to lock onto Aubrey’s. He shook his head and stood up straight. He continued into the kitchen where he discovered that dolls literally covered every surface. Aubrey glanced out the window. He saw dark, menacing clouds in the distance. Apparently, so did Mrs. Jones. “Well, now, looks like a storm’s headed our way. If you’d like to stay and wait the storm out...” she trailed off. Aubrey looked out the window again. The clouds had moved closer in the short time, and he could tell that he would not be able to outrun it back to town. Summer storms in this area were not something to be messed with, especially when they blew in as fast as this one was moving. Besides, Mrs. Jones didn’t seem all that bad. Perhaps all of the rumors weren’t true. “Yes, actually, would you mind too terribly if I stayed for a while?” “Oh no, child, that would be perfect. Just perfect. I’ll get some soup on the stove. You’ll love it. It’s almond,” and as she spoke, the rain started pouring down on the roof. “Oh, excuse me, I’ll go get a lamp,” she said, for it had gotten darker. “Um, well, while you’re doing that, where’s the bathroom? I’d like to wash up.” “Down the hall on the right,” she replied. While he was washing his hands, thoughts raced through his mind. He was still slightly nervous about this encounter with the Jones. He had no experience first hand with them and still was not sure what to think. Voices wafted up through the heat-duct, although Aubrey could not make out what they were saying. One voice he discovered to be Mrs. Jones’ and the male voice he naturally assumed to be Mr. Jones. He could smell the soup on the stove as it heated up, and remembered what the old woman had said it was. Almond soup. Something tugged at the back of Aubrey’s mind about this, but he shrugged it off. After all, if it was important, he’d remember. When he was finished, he stepped into the kitchen. “In here. I’m in the dining room.” Martha’s voice floated in from the other room. Aubrey followed it into the dining room where he found once place set, and Martha sitting across the table from his intended seat. As he sat down, he asked, “Why are you not eating?” “Well, I’m not that hungry actually,” she said. Aubrey placed the blue cloth napkin on his lap and picked up the large spoon. As he put the spoon up to his lips to eat, Martha said, “You know, Tray just loved this soup.” As Aubrey went for the second spoonful, he remembered back to his days in the academy. One of his professors had told him that cyanide was supposed to taste like almonds. He began to notice all of the dolls staring at him again. Sweat trickled down his neck as she spoke again. “He just loved it to death.”

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