The Doll Maker, #13 — We listened.
Feeling relieved, I looked at Red. She was still cuddled in my arms. Such a sweet child. She was a child. She was. “Red, I think she is a doll.”
Red sighed with relief. “I’m glad. I don’t remember much but I remember feeling alone and scared.”
“I can’t imagine how it must have been.”
“Thank you for finding me.” She cuddled in tighter.
Her sweetness made me determined to find out who had done this horrid thing — whatever it was. Was she a doll turned into a living doll? Was she a little girl turned into a doll? Did the herbs I smelled have anything to do with it?
Where was The Doll Maker now?
“Red, we’ll go downstairs. You’ll stay by me every minute, okay?”
No. “No!” I screamed clutching Red tighter.
Red screeched, “Nooo.”