Hi all! This short story is dedicated to my brother, John, a pilot, who at one time did in fact sell South American products from his travels. It’s his birthday soon, I hope he likes horror stories about himself. Ha ha!
Thanks again for reading! This story is a little detour from what I usually write about — sci-fi and fantasy. Watch for my sci-fi anthology, An Orb Over the Strawberry Moon, coming soon! Have a great day!
~Nancy
“Whatever you do, don’t tell her your name.” The plump old woman’s voice was garbled and her eyes, drawn with heavy eyeliner, bugged out at me. What did she just say? I squinted through my aviators. The thick Russian accent was hard to make out. She stood on the gravel draped in a pink polyester nightgown, her pit stains growing larger, and knocked three times on my windshield.
I rolled down the window. “What?” The smell of her sweat stung my nose. I forgot this was Mexico, where humidity and emotions run wild together.
Her glassy eyes stared into mine and she spoke slower. “Don’t tell Maria your name.” She pointed at the thing next to me in the passenger seat.
I was confused. I looked at the ancient treasure beside me. Why does she think I would talk to a doll? I had flown in from Ontario, a pilot for a private company out here on business, and took a detour in my rented Jeep to check out the museum curator’s estate sale near the Museo de las Momias de Guanajuato. I was stoked to pick up a rare folk doll extracted from the wilds of Peru.
The sweat stung my eyes as I carefully lowered the doll inside a large see-through garbage bag – it looked thin skinned and delicate, a crusted thing about 900 years old, maybe even older, and only about four feet tall. I was afraid it might disintegrate if I looked at it wrong. But I got it in the Jeep, no problem. The doll’s slanted eyes were turned down across its bulbous head and its gangly arms held its knees tight to its chest. The old Russian lady called it Maria and liked pointing out it had only three fingers and three toes. She said I could have it for twenty bucks. Told me it was cursed, but I didn’t believe her. She explained it wasn’t a doll, it was actually an alien mummified corpse from Peru discovered by an Indigenous in a hard to reach cavern. Whatever. I didn’t want to argue. To me, it looked like a cross between a llama skeleton and a bunch of bird bones sewn together. I’d been collecting South American artifacts and reselling them on ebay for years and this one was a sick find. My plan was to sell it for at least fifty times more than what she asked for it. Or I might even keep it, I’d have to see.
I secured the doll with the seatbelt and rolled up the window. Sweat pooled over my lip and I blasted the air conditioning. I could tell the old Russian lady wanted to fill in some more backstory about the doll, but I was damned if I was going to stay one more minute in this heat and listen to some stupid superstitious crap and just waved goodbye.
The sun was relentless, frying the hood of my Jeep. I drove past the estate through the mud and rocks and ran the tires over a pot hole, bumping my head on the ceiling. Dammit. My head started to pound. My eyes went to the doll and I relaxed a bit when I saw it was still safe in its seat.
My phone pinged and I pressed speaker phone. “Hey Johnny, where are you dude?” It was Mike, my co-pilot. I shot a glance at the doll. It knows my name.
“Meet us at the hotel lobby at six, we’re gonna try the botanas.” My heart started to pound and I tossed the phone behind me. It knows my name. So what? The old lady’s crazy.
I drove in silence, watching the leafy palms whizz by. Couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and have a shower. A sound gargled from inside the Jeep. I brushed it off. There it was again. I thought I heard a faint voice calling me through the vent. Wait, not the vent, it was coming from the bag. My heart hammered through my ears and I gripped the steering wheel. What the hell? I decided I was tired and hearing things and started to grin. Come on, John. The old Russian lady’s just playing tricks on you. Probably wants more money.
A thud dropped in my chest. I couldn’t stop my panic. What if I’m being scammed? What if it’s a Cartel plot to rob me?
“John.” A cold, crusty hand closed around my throat and squeezed hard. I saw Maria and I in the rearview mirror, our knees both folded up to our chests. She was laughing, her mouth black like space, and we crashed into the ditch.
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This was beautifully written.
Another good reason to hate old dolls!