Lighthouse Horror Podcast - My Life as a Voodoo Puppet at King Creole’s Half Priced Voodoo Shop | Scary Stories

Episode Date: August 3, 2023

I'm a Voodoo Puppet working at Ol’ King Creole’s Half Priced Voodoo Shop! Story from Voodoo_Clerk Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Voodoo_Clerk         Original Post: I Work at a Half Priced Voodoo Store (Part 2) : r/nosleep              Original YouTube link: My Life as a Voodoo Puppet at King Creole’s Half Priced Voodoo Shop For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Sound Effects: Freesound Zapsplat  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new scary stories, new true stories, and new creepypasta stories every day!

Welcome back to Old King Creole's half-priced Voodoo Shop. Ugh, now I'm even starting to say this shit. Hey guys, it's me, Travis. Still alive, unfortunately, and losing my sanity little by little every day. I know you guys probably have a lot of questions as to how the hell I'm even able to talk to you guys right now. And I promise I'll get into that, as painful as it is to talk about. But if you're new here, then allow me to introduce you to you guys. myself. My name is Travis. I work here at Old King Creole's half-priced voodoo shop, and because

of my own stupidity, I've ended up becoming a human puppet for my boss, King Creole. And when I mean puppet, I do mean puppet. I'm suspended by strings from the ceiling, and my face is white as chalk, and I've got stupid red cheeks painted on. During work hours, my mind is sort of disconnected from my body. My body and mouth say things that my mind doesn't want to say. I'm basically the most disgusting thing in history. An overly cheery store clerk. Sometimes I want to punch myself with how sick and disgusting I sound, being a stupid puppet for my boss. The only time I get to take back control of myself is when the shop is closed, Although, whenever I try to leave through the doors, I'm quickly taken over again and forced

back to my post at the counter. And yes, I have tried to end it all. Whatever force is pulling on the strings attached to my body forces myself to end any attempt on my own life. So, I'm stuck here being the boss's puppet. Some of you asked if my parents ever came looking for me. And yes, they did. A couple of days after I was turned into a puppet, I was standing at my counter.

A stupid smile plastered on my face as I looked around with my button eyes. Quickly, I stood stick straight when King Creole came out of his office. His stitched-up mouth was turned up into a smile as he approached me. "'How are you doing, Travis, my boy?' he asked me with a chuckle, giving me a hard pat on the back. I turned my head to him and just smiled nice and wide back at him. I'm doing fantastic, sir. I said happily.

While internally, I was screaming every curse word I knew at him, wishing I could rip his stupid head off his shoulders and punt it down the basement with Mary. He chuckled and nodded at me. Say, I need you to go into the basement for just a second. I left something down there when I was tended to marry. Could you be a deer and go get it? He asked me, standing back and offering me the key to the basement. I reached out and took it, even giving him a little salute. Sure thing, sir.

I hummed, walking over to the basement and opening it. While my body readily gave into his orders, in my head, I thought of why the hell he was sending me down here. Nothing was important enough for me to go down here. And I got my answer the second I closed the door behind me. The rusty bell rang at the door and I heard the sound of a couple of people coming in. And I heard the voice of my mother. Are you king creole? She asked. Her tone was of sorrow and insecurity. I turned on my heels quickly, staring back at the door. My mother was here. I reached out towards the door, but found myself unable to close the small distance to touch the knob. I wanted to force myself to stretch my stupid hands just a couple of

inches closer, but I couldn't. Why, yes I am, ma'am, Creole chuckled. The sound of my rocking chair squeaking as he was no doubt sitting in it and rocking in it. What can I do for you? He asked my mother. My father spoke up instead. Our son went missing a few days ago and we were wondering if you've seen him anywhere. His heavy voice was also heavily covered in sadness and worry. I was just a couple of feet away from them and I couldn't do anything to draw attention

to myself. I opened my mouth to try and scream, but nothing came out of my throat, but a long, soft wheeze. Well, he was here the last day I had him scheduled to work. He left, and that was the last I ever saw of him. Creole lied through his teeth, a tone of concern on those stitched-up lips of his. I truly don't know where he is, he explained. We understand. If you see or hear from him, please just give us a call.

My dad said to the man who was torturing me. I could hear a sheet of paper from the other side of the door and the sound of my mom crying softly. I was alive. I was right here. Just open the damn basement door. I sure will. He's a fine young lad. I do hope he turns up."

Creole said to my parents. Soon, their footsteps grew faint and the front door opened and closed, that rusty bell jangling and signaling the last I ever saw of my parents. Finally able to move again, I clawed at the basement door and opened it up. Oh, Travis, you just missed your mama and pops. Such nice people worrying about their son. He chuckled when he saw me standing at the basement door. He was holding up a missing person's flyer at me, showing my old face, before my button eyes, pale skin, painted cheeks, and my severed head getting stitched back on. Oh, that's too bad.

I said in my happy tone, my mind practically screaming and begging to be let out of this prison. Is this what someone in a coma feels like? Or people who get trapped in their bodies and are unable to move? I'm sure they'd love to see you. Who knows? Maybe I'll pay them a visit one day. If you ever misbehave. After all, I know where they live now.

He giggled, holding up a flyer of my past self and showing that my address was plastered onto it. You monster, I thought. You won't have to worry about that at all, sir. I said, I would never do something that's stupid. I nodded, smiling as I was forced to turn back around and head down to the basement. Creole's giggles filled my ears as I descended into the dark depths. Finally arriving down in the basement, I looked around for whatever the hell it was that

he'd left down here. While I was down here, I saw the Voodoo King's old fiancé and murderer, Mary, the living human porcelain doll, who was currently busy chewing on the rotting corpse of one of the dead customers. "'Travs, what are you doing down here?' She asked, quickly swallowing the meat in her mouth. I'd be gagging and throwing up all over myself, but my body didn't react at all to that. Plus, I'm always wearing a nice suit, and getting vomit off that would be a bitch.

He sent me down here for something. I sighed, finally having some control over myself as I walked over to her, looking at her and then at the corpse she was munching on. I won't blame her for that. A girl's got to eat, you know. Oh, he must want his cane. She sighed, pointing over to the item laying on the floor near some cracked and broken porcelain. I nodded and walked over to the item, picking it up and looking at it.

It was a simple one made of some black wood with a white orb handle. I'm guessing he beat you with it, didn't he? I asked her, looking over and staring with my button eyes, finding myself hitting the orb against my palm. Yeah. She said simply, turning back to her chewing and ripping another chunk out of the decaying body. I looked at her, and then down at the cane, sighing and trying to wrap my head around how the hell my life had gotten to this point. I should have gone to college.

I left Mary to her cannibalism and started the path back up the stairs. Getting up there, I handed the item to Creole, and he smiled at me. Thank you, son. He hummed, taking it and looking down at it. Anything for you, sir? I said with a smile, shivering internally, when his head jerked up to look at me with a quizzical look. Anything, huh? He asked me with a hum, stroking his chin and standing up quickly, putting both of his hands on my shoulders and giving them a hard squeeze.

Like, killing your parents for him. me? He asked me. I froze. I couldn't. There was no way in hell I was going to do that. I opened my mouth to no doubt agree with him, like the stupid doormat I'd become. But instead, I grabbed him by the head and smashed my own into his, sending him sputtering backward. Ah, still have some fight in you, huh? He asked me with a chuckle, holding up the cane and bringing it down on my head, sending me stumbling to the floor like I was a doll, because I am one. He raced it up to deliver another one to me when the door again opened, and we both looked towards it. Is this a bad time? The customer asked, a girl wearing an oversized

hoodie. Creole looked down at me, and then at her, placing the cane on the floor and walking over to her, the cane tapping along as he went, I'm sorry, dear, what can I do for you? He asked with a hum. I, meanwhile, was forced back up by my strings and standing up nice and straight for our customer, brushing myself off and heading back to the counter to stand there like the animatronic I was basically becoming. Uh, you grant wishes, right? Can you get a guide of? like me. She asked shyly. Creole chuckled and nodded slowly, wrapping an arm around her and pushing her over to the counter. Travis, be a dear and get Miss Liz here, the love potion. He asked of me

with a giggle. I quickly nodded back and reached out to give the woman the potion she asked for. God, I wish I could have talked her out of it. The love potion is probably the worst potion we sell here, especially if you're as vague as this girl was about it. She took it and looked at the vial it came in, looking at Creole dubiously and reading the back of the bottle. Smart girl, nodding to herself, she opened it and quickly drank it, gagging at the taste, but swallowing it all. She stood there for a bit recovering, and soon her phone went berserk. It vibrated like crazy and she pulled it out quickly. A smile spreading on her face when she saw it was from the guy she loved. She thanked the two of us and ran off, putting the phone to her

ear and chuckling as she left the shop. The poor girl had no idea what she was getting into. Every single time someone uses the love potion, the person they love ends up killing them and doing weird shit to their body. Saying that they love them so much, they wanted to keep them always. Yeah, making a creepy human statue out of their body is totally showing love. Creole must want to marry me after what he did to me. Let's see what happens to her. She'll probably come running back here in no time.

I'll keep you guys posted if she does end up back here. Creole must have been in a good mood, because he didn't end up beating me again. just going off to the office and closing the door, leaving me to stand there at my post. He doesn't go anywhere at night, if you guys are wondering. He just stays in the office until the shop opens up again. But that gives me a chance to rest, curled up under the desk. No reason other than to cry. Well, my button eyes don't really produce tears, but my body does everything else that crying entails.

I don't know how to get away from him. But there has to be a way. If I can smash my face into his, there has to be a way to be able to break the spell he has on me. I'll get out of here, and I'll rip his head off. I swear I will. And do be sure to check us out. King Creole has been talking about getting more employees.

Hope to see some of you here. You know what I miss the most ever since becoming a puppet? Using the bathroom, as weird as it sounds, having at least some kind of privacy inside a room with a toilet for me to sit down. I've never taken something for granted so hard as being able to sit down from my own free will. The stupid strings keep me suspended and forced to stand up straight, it makes the days long not being able to sit down by myself. King Creole has been treating me worse than usual lately.

I don't know if I did something, or he's still. still mad about me smashing my face into his. But now every day before we lock up shop, he puts his arm around me and invites me down into the basement, since I was so curious about it. He drags me down there and forces me to stand there and watch while he uses all types of things to beat Mary. Look, I may have thought before that she deserved whatever she was getting from Creole, but seeing it day after day. It started to be. to make me afraid for myself. What happens when he starts treating me like her? She's porcelain, and to some extent she's grown numb to everything. Me, on the other hand, I'm human. Or I guess

my body is pretty much human, and I've seen what Creole does to humans that piss him off. One day before lockup, I was doing my usual standing at the counter, wondering of ways to end my eternal suffering. When the bell at the shop door clang, bringing my button eyes over to the person who had just wandered into our lovely shop, I saw a heavyset guy, tall, and bundled up in a jacket since it was so cold. He looked at me with about as much discomfort as I usually had towards myself whenever I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Hello, sir, and welcome to old King Creole's half-priced Voodoo Shop. I sang in my son. stupid greeting voice. All the while, subconsciously, I was telling this guy to stick a knife in

my heart and end me. Not too different from when I was a human working here, now that I think about it. Yeah, whatever you freak, is your boss here? I'm told he can make problems disappear. The guy said, looking around the shop and sneering in all our items, and probably all the cobwebs everywhere. Although I've never seen a spider here, and I live at the shop now, I have no I idea how they show up here. He sure can. I'll go fetch him right away, I said cheerily. The strings attached to me forced me to walk over to the office and tap it lightly to a little

tune. God, I wanted so badly to just smash my face into the wall when I was forced to act like this. Oh, sir, we have a customer looking for you, I said happily, stepping back when the door flung open. Creole smiled with the stitches on his mouth, giving a nice creaking sound as they threatened to snap. He waltzed over, patting my combed hair like I was a dog, and heading to the counter to meet with this man that had wandered into our shop. "'What can I do for you, Paul?' he asked with a cheery laugh.

His gloved fingers drummed down the counter as he looked at the man and waited for an answer. The man gave the same look to Creole he gave me before shrugging and handing him a business card to the voodoo shop boss. Yeah, my buddy Pat says that you can make problems go away. He said, crossing his arms that rested on his beer gut and waiting for Creole to respond. He seemed shifty, like the kind of guy you'd see on wanted posters or the kind you look out for if you belong to the neighborhood watch. Ah, of course. What is the nature of your problem? I do hope it's easier to solve than Patrick's was.

Quite a mess he got himself into. My boss said, looking over to me and motioning me to come over, the strings yanking me, since I really had no choice but to obey him. Yeah, I need to lay low for a couple days. feds around my ass about some sexual assault allegations. Paul explained. Creole nodded, the drumming of his fingers stopping once Paul finished. Well, I can offer you my basement, but it is becoming quite full down there,

my boss thought aloud, holding his chin. His button eyes scanned this man, but soon the smile he always had plastered on his face, went away, and a look of disgust came across it. On second thought, I can squeeze you in, he chuckled, walking past me and patting me on the shoulder as he led the man to the basement door. Travis, be a good boy and close up shop for the night. He said to me as he unlocked the basement and allowed Paul to enter first. I looked at him and quickly nodded.

Being dragged over to the door, I flipped the sign to say we were closed, and I locked it. Turning my attention back to the basement door, I realized I'd regained control of my body. I took that glorious opportunity to stretch as I've never done before. God, the feeling of my popping joints felt incredible now. Taking this slim window of opportunity, I walked into the boss's empty office, looking around for anything to aid me in my current predicament. I didn't have much luck, since once again the only item King Creole has in his office, seems to be sewing supplies.

And I don't think any of that is going to help me here. My attention turns from his office to the basement when I hear Paul start to scream, along with hard smacks, and the sound of something wooden breaking. Travis, get down here, boy. Creole's voice ordered me, forcing my body to stand up perfectly straight and forcing me down the basement. The best way I can describe the feeling is sleep paralysis, being unable to move at all while freaking the hell out. Walking down into the basement and reaching the end, I almost wanted to do a 180 and start walking back up the stairs. Paul was being hung by a meat hook from the wall and

Creole was slowly sharpening a knife on a nearby wet stone. His look was one of anger until he saw me, and then that scowl flipped into a big wide smile. There you are, boy. Hello, sir. What are you doing with the customer? I asked, surprisingly for once being able to agree with whatever my mouth asked. Creole chuckled as he walked over to me and grabbed me by my combed hair, stroking the now extremely sharp knife against my stitched up neck. I backed up a bit, but he pulled me back into it. Wow, I'm making the problem disappear, he said with a soft low hum. Creole approached the man, placed the knife on his stomach, and dug it deep into him, causing. a silent scream from the man.

I'm sure you're going to give him the swift justice he deserves, sir. I said, clapping my hands and smiling at him like the kiss-ass he turned me into. Now, I've got a pretty in-depth understanding of how Creole's morality works. He'll never harm a child, but will harm their parents if he deems it worthy of his intervention. Anybody coming into the store and asking for a wish is instant. apparently damned for being selfish, no matter the wish, and he absolutely despises molesters and rapists. Yes, this guy filled one of those categories.

My attention was turned from the torture in front of me to Mary, who motioned for me to come over. I looked over to Creole and was able to force my body to walk over to the porcelain woman. I looked down at her as she struggled to keep herself up, her legs having been broken in into shards and barely back together. He'll be at this for a couple hours. She sighed, offering me a spot to sit down. I looked at it and sat down.

She pulled herself onto a pile of clothes and sighed as she brushed back her wild and messy blonde hair. Malester, he'll take his sweet time with this one. She explained to me, looking over with her single eye. Despite all the times she was put back together, she always had a hole where the right part of her face and I should have been. What's he going to do with him? I asked, trying to make conversation with a woman in a similar predicament to me, although she had suffered for far longer than I have. Peel off his skin. Use it to make voodoo dolls and leave the rest of him to me. She sighed, the weight of her decades. of torture weighed heavily on her. When I raised a hand to comfort her, she immediately shirked

away from me and silently shook her head. She didn't like to be touched at all. I can understand where she's coming from. Is there any way to save ourselves? I asked her, hoping for any bit of information she had, but she simply responded with another silent shake of her head. A chip of porcelain falling off her face and onto the floor. She gave up decades ago. What was he like? Before this, I asked, looking up as Creole cackled in delight as he sliced off the man's skin. Well, at least I agreed with his actions here. Truth be told, I would have asked for a turn if I knew how to skin properly. But maybe that's just my slowly slipping sanity

talking. An idiot, a sweet, adorable idiot who was too stupid for his own good. She sighed hard, rubbing her cracked face and letting out a long, haggard breath. He was sweet. He really was, a mama's boy who brought me back to my house on time, and showed up on time exactly on the dot, she said with a sad sigh. So why did you do it? I asked her, my button eyes turning my attention from the torture in front of me over to her.

It still made no sense for me as to why she would kill Charles Sumner and lead to his transformation into King Creole. I was young and stupid. Charles was such a prude that he wouldn't have sex until we were married. I wouldn't have cared as much if he didn't drill it into me every single day. She groaned, both of us receiving a a stink button from Creole as he turned to see what we were doing. But he quickly turned back to having his fun with Paul, starting to cut into his face. So you asked your mob boyfriend to kill him? I asked her, seeing that she was indeed a selfish whore, in Creole's own words, not my own.

It wasn't supposed to go like that. I just wanted Henry to beat him up enough to say. scare him into leaving town, but then Charles had to go and win that contest. When Henry found out about the ten thousand, he wanted it, and so he tortured Charles into giving it to him. Then he told me that they'd accidentally killed him. She explained, sitting up and looking at me with her glass-green eye, looking at me with the most sincerity I'd seen from her. I take it that Mama a Creole didn't take too kindly to her son being murdered. I asked her, using the distraction that Creole was having, as getting some much-needed information from a primary source.

Not at all, she said with a soft chuckle. The kind a person gives, when they realize how bad their situation actually is, I know that chuckle real well. She suspected me from the start, and since Henry was such an idiot and didn't hide, the body at all, she found Charles. And the rest is my horrible history, she explained. She really was a flawed person. But was I any better? I helped my boss cover up murders, got rid of bodies for him. I wasn't really better than her, I guess. Is she still with us? Is she an immortal voodoo creation like her boy? I asked, looking for any way to get out of our situation. But she responded with a shake of her head.

She died in 1960, I think, old age. Creole was devastated. He didn't come down here for over six months. She didn't want immortality, so she just went quietly into the ether. She sighed, flinching when a chunk of human meat was flung at the two of us. Both of us looked up in terror when Creole pointed the blood-soaked knife at us. Do not speak of my mother, you filthy whore." He snarled, lifting his leg up and stomping her face in, sending the girl flying backwards into

the pile of bones that was behind us. He next turned to me and pointed the knife right at me. I raised my hands to show I meant no harm, but he just chuckled at me. There's no way you're getting out of your situation, Travis. for my special store clerk, my good little boy and my very own puppet. He smiled, snapping his finger, my body going stiff again and being forced to stand up straight. You are correct, sir. I am at your eternal service, I said with my stupid yes man tone, wanting so badly to rip that

knife from his gloved hand and plunge it into his chest. But all I could do was smile like a jackass and follow his order to take all the skin he'd peeled up to his office. Taking it in my hands, I started up the stairs and sighed. This was going to be my life now, wasn't it? The slave of an undead voodoo man. Why did I have to be an idiot and get involved in this? I was about to start making $30 an hour. Why did I have to ruin all this?

I thought all this as I came upstairs and was face to face with a police officer. We looked at each other before we both looked down at what I had in my hands, then back up at each other. Well, how the hell would I explain this? Turns out, I didn't have to. I'm here to wish for something. The woman said. She was middle-aged, looked like she was a hard ass, but her tone of voice really sent me back.

I looked down at the skin in my hand and thought for a second. Uh, yeah, let me just put this away and I'll get my boss, I said, far enough away from Creole for me to be able to control my actions. Going to the office, I thought to myself, for some reason, I wondered if she was going to be my way out of here. Well, I had some hope for the first time in a while. I should have known not to. Walking down the basement with this police officer, I did my best to act as naturally as I could, you know, with strings being constantly tied to me. She was obviously uncomfortable with me, but if she's a cop, she most likely knows about King Creole.

If that one time that cop tried to arrest the two of us is any indication, then the whole police force knows what goes on in here. I finally made it down the steps with her in tow, watching as Creole was beating Mary with his cane for probably the same reason he had been before. Sir, this officer has a wish, I said, for once in my normal voice. He must have been so upset that he wasn't even bothering to control me at that moment. He looked up at me with a scowl on his face, before staring at the officer. His button eyes went from her to me, then down to Mary, whose face was barely held together from his vicious beatings.

Ah, Officer Kilpatrick, you're early. Our appointment wasn't until seven. He chuckled, taking his top hat off and running his fingers through his black, messy hair, putting the item back on, and walking closer to us. Pointing his thumb back at Mary, he moved his head towards her, the sign for me to move Mary out of sight. Notting, I went over and gently picked Mary up. She's light as a feather, mostly.

since her body is hollow on the inside, I'm pretty sure at least. And I carefully placed her in the corner of the room, careful not to put her down too hard and risk more pieces of her falling off. I know, but I got off early, so I figured I might as well just come here. She crossed her arms and looked at the voodoo shop owner. We had a deal. I made sure that your missing clerk wouldn't be investigated thoroughly. Now you owe me my wish. She said, her eyes traveling to see me staring back at her. That couldn't be possible, I thought to myself. Creole had too much influence that no one was ever going to come looking for me.

This officer had been my one chance at getting out of this hell. But it turned out, she had signed my eternal damnation here. Yes, dear. I'm well aware of our little deal. Creole chuckled, brushing some porcelain off his suit and staring at the middle-aged officer in front of him. You want your precious little daughter back. He sighed, looking at her, with his back to me.

She kept looking over at me, tending to marry, and obviously feeling guilty about what she'd done. You can do that, right? And not have her ending up like a freak like you two. She asked, pointing to the two of us and waiting for an answer. Gonna be honest, that one hurt. Being compared with Creole really hurt. If that's what you wish, but that is particularly hard to do, and for that, I'm going to need her body. Creole explained, walking past her and over to the basement stairs.

And I'll need your help with that, officer. kill Patrick," he said with a toothy grin. Those stitches strained to breaking once again. Why can't you send your little puppet? She snuffed, pointing to me again and once again chipping away at my soul and causing me to turn my gaze away from them and look back to Mary, who patted my chest to make me feel a little better. Oh, I'm afraid Travis isn't allowed outside of the shop.

I will accompany you if you so wish. Her body must be brought back here, of course. Otherwise, I'm unable to perform the required ritual to bring her back." Creole explained, tapping his fingers on his cane, clearly waiting for this woman to get a move on things. Fine, she said with a long sigh, walking past him and up the stairs. He turned his button eyes back at me, and I felt the strings pull tight as I was forced to stand up straight once more.

"'Travis, dear, be a good boy and close up shop. I'll be back within the hour.' He ordered me, leaving before I could give him any kind of stupid-ass-kissing response. I sighed as I was allowed to go limp again. until I heard the front door open and close, I then turned back to Mary. You've got a chance to look for a way out, she said, picking up some of her pieces. She sighed as she got a good amount of her face back into a decent shape. Is there going to be any way out of here? I asked her, raising a brow. I got a shrug back,

and it looked like I was an idiot. I haven't left this basement in almost 95 years. How should I know? She rolled her one eye. Damn, she got me. Pouting a bit as I turned to go upstairs, I looked back at her, then smiled. She may be older than everyone I know combined, but old girl still has some bite in her. Making my way back upstairs, I did my only order and locked up a shop, looking around at the dusty and cobweb filled plays with my button eyes and trying to find any kind of way out. Like always, I couldn't get out the front door.

Once again, I had no luck. Turning my head, I looked at the voodoo dolls on the wall and thought for a second. Any of you guys want to help me out here? I asked him. Getting silence back. Well, it was worth an ask. I looked back over at the boss man's office and resigned myself to try and look in there for anything that could help me out of here.

Opening up his desk again, I once again couldn't find anything useful. How does he not have any scissors? How the hell does he cut shit? Resigning again, I sat in his office chair and looked around at all the pictures, picking up one of them on his desk. I looked at it. It was old and weathered, but I could see that it was Charles and his mother. Made sense that this was the only picture of himself that he hadn't destroyed.

He really must have loved his mother. I miss mine. So much. Setting the picture down, I sighed and rubbed my face. My fingers going down and scratching the stitches on my neck. Something deep down in me wanted to rip off the stitches. Maybe that would kill me. Since the fact that I wasn't able to just do it and the invisible force was keeping me from doing it,

I think that it just might. Well, if I'm ever able to get to fight Creole in a fistfight, I know where to go for. They were gone for a good while, and when they finally came back to the shop, I was out of the office and standing at the corner like I usually do. Creole walked through and held the door open as Officer Kilpatrick brought her daughter's casket into the shop, dirt dripping onto the floor and causing me to exhale through my nose and annoyance. I'd probably have to clean that. Travis, be a good boy and help Mrs. Kilpatrick with her luggage, Creole said. I nodded and walked over, holding one end of it, and he said.

helping her as we both were led down to the basement. Getting down there, I placed the coffin down, giving her the stink eye, as best I could with button eyes. She was still uncomfortable looking in me, and backed up when we placed the coffin down. Do I have to be here to watch? She asked, hugging herself, and backing away from the coffin. Creole walked over and grabbed it, Cracking it open and looking down into it, smiling, as he saw the corpse in there. I walked over and peeked in. Yep, that was a dead child, all right. A rotting dead child at that.

Thank God I can't smell things anymore. Well, you don't have to, but it will help with the ritual if you do. He chuckled, picking up the corpse and placing it on the same table he'd used to turn me into a a puppet. Well, this was sure going to be fun to watch, especially with the maggots crawling in and out of her body. It was obviously too much for Kilpatrick since she started gagging and throwing up. Yep, super glad I can't smell or taste things anymore. Creole went to work, straightening the body out and nodding. He then looked over to me with a smile and beckoned me to come closer to him. I obeyed and walked over, leaning in so he could whisper to

me. Bring that skin I had you place in my office, he said, pulling back and shewing me away. Well, now I've been downgraded to errand, boy. Sighing, I obeyed and made my way back up the stairs, picking up all the things he would need, the skin, threads, needles, etc. Making sure everything was in my arms, I made my way back downstairs, placing them on the table for my boss. He nodded happily at me and cracked his gloved fingers. One thing about Creole is that he is an expert at sewing,

be they dolls, or in this case, humans. Must be all those years he did piano, because his fingers are like water-man, smooth moving. If he wasn't keeping me trapped in here as his slave, I would strive to be this good. He laid the new skin on top of the rotting corpse and began to sew it to the old skin. in humming a song as he did so, clearly lost in his craft. Kilpatrick came over soon to see what was going on. She raised a brow at the skin, it obviously now being a match for her daughter, but that soon changed when the skin began to mold and formed to the child's body, turning the correct

shade and even growing back the red hair she'd used to have. Creole stepped back and nodded at his work. looking around the basement for something before looking to Copacric. Buttons? Or glass eyes? He asked of her. Throwing her off and causing her to take a step back at that. Obviously, she'd never had to consider a question like that.

Why can't you just give her regular eyes? She asked. Well, those are hard to come by. Where glass and button eyes are far easier to use. I assure you, dear, nobody'll notice. Well, with the glass option, of course. He laughed with a smile. Kilpatrick wasn't amused, though.

By her looks, she was the kind of no-nonsense cop. Fine. Give her glass ones. She said, crossing her arms again. The gun on her holster moving a bit. I looked at it, but if the times this shop got robbed were any indication, there was no point in trying to kill Creole that way. With his answer, Creole reached into his pocket and pulled out two pairs of glass eyes.

And carefully, he placed them into the gaping holes where the girl's eyes used to be. She was young. She looked maybe seven or eight, just about Olivia's age. I was wondering what had happened to her, but the gaping hole in her neck kind of said enough about that. shot, it would seem. By who, though? I was soon about to find out the answer to that question. But for now, Creole dramatically dusted his hands off and stepped back. Now then, will her mother step forward and offer her blood?

He asked, a nice smile on his face as usual. Kilpatrick walked over and looked at her daughter on the table. The softening of her face obviously showed that Creole had done an incredible job and making her look just like she had when she was alive. Creole raised a needle up and pricked each of her fingers nice and deep. The crimson liquid dripped off of her fingers and into the girl's open mouth. It took a minute or two, but it was soon obvious that the body was starting to change. Before she had resembled a wax figure.

doll, but with each drip into her mouth, she gained color and started breathing. Wow, he really can grant any wish. Although this being King Creel, I was expecting the inevitable. Susie, the woman said, when the little girl sat up from the table breathing rapidly and looked down at her hands and arms, clutching her throat as she seemingly tried to stop the bleeding that had caused her untimely death. But then she looked up at her mother and blinked a couple times. Susie, it's Mommy, she said, getting on her knees and kissing her. Mommy, she said in a soft voice, her arm soon came around and hug the woman. It was a tender moment, which lasted all of about five seconds.

Why did you kill me, Mommy?" The girl suddenly asked, causing me to raise my brow and look over at Creole, who was just smiling and chuckling up a storm as he backed away. I followed his lead and backed up as well. What? Kilpatrick asked quickly, pushing the little girl away from her, still keeping her hands on her shoulders. Her face was one of denial.

What are you talking about, baby? I didn't do anything to you. She explained, but the girl looked straight on at her with her glass eyes. I came downstairs while you and Daddy were fighting. You shot Daddy in front of me. The little girl said, her voice deadpan, sitting up more on the table and standing up on it. When I started crying, you shot me too, she said. holding an accusing finger up at her mother. You, you were supposed to be in bed, she said quickly, backing up into Creole, who chuckled as he clasped her shoulder from behind.

I, I had to make it look like a robbery. She said, struggling against the unnatural strength of Creole as he held her. You lied, Mommy. You always said lying was bad. Susie said, her voice becoming more and more distorted, her mouth opening up, to reveal row upon row of needle-like teeth. You killed me, and you lied. She said in a distorted voice, pouncing from the table, and onto her mother.

She took a big chunk of neck meat, as her and her mother fell to the floor with a scream. Creole stepped over the two of them as Susie continued to chow down on her mother. She never said to make her forget about what happened. He explained with a chuckle, tapping me on the shoulder and turning around to watch the scene with me. You know, your parents seem really desperate to find you. Maybe they'll come in and wish for you back. Better hope they worded correctly. He giggled, slapping me hard on the back and leaving me alone to watch the scene as he returned upstairs.

I stood there and watched a little girl eat her mother for a good while, mostly because I dreaded returning upstairs. I was about to until something came sliding over to me and hit my nice dress shoes. I looked down, and I swear I almost lost both of my button eyes. A pocket knife. I looked back over at Kilpatrick's body and saw Mary already going through the dead woman's pockets. Keep it safe, she said, going back to looking for anything else. I bent over and picked it up, feeling the item in my hand and looking back over at Mary. I wanted to try cutting the ropes there, but I needed another opportunity where Creole wasn't in the shop.

Guess I just have to play the waiting game some more. Hopefully, I can stay sane long enough till that happens. Susie finished eating her mother and came upstairs with me. Creole ended up turning her into a voodoo doll and placing her on the wall with the others. Why waste precious materials after all? It had turned out that Kilpatrick's husband and daughter were killed in a burglary gone wrong, and looks like Kilpatrick had a fat life insurance policy on her husband. So much for serving and protecting.

Since the cops are firmly not an option anymore, I'm still stuck in the shop. But at least I have a knife now. Not risking telling you guys where it is. Just know it's safe. And hopefully, I'll be able to do something with it. A small step towards freedom, but a step nonetheless. I've done a lot of horrible shit while working here at the half-priced voodoo shop, but this tops everything before.

I bet some of you've been wondering about that one girl who came and asked for a love potion. Well, I'd forgotten about her until she came running to the shop in the middle of the night. There was a loud thud from the door, followed by a bunch of panicked knocking. I popped my head from behind the counter and raised a brow. A positive to having the button eyes is that I've got incredible night vision. So, even with the lights off, I was able to see clearly the girl knocking on the door. I sighed and pulled myself up onto my feet and forced myself to walk over to her. We're closed, ma'am.

I told her, looking at her and noticing that she was covered head to toe in blood. Not an unusual sight at the shop, I have to say. I can hear you guys yelling at me for not helping her right away, and look, man, I'm a voodoo puppet. I can only give so much of a shit anymore. I need you to help me. I came here before and asked for a love potion, and ever since then the guy I've been dating has turned into an absolute psycho. She said, smashing her hands on the window harder and yanking on the locked door some more.

I sighed, looking at her. All sales are final, I said, thinking for a second, and looking back over to the office and then back at her. Sighing harder, I opened the door, I let her in and I lock the door behind her. I turned the lights of the shop on and looked at her with crossed arms. Look, I can't do much for you. I'm in a much worse situation than you are. Screw you, man.

my boyfriend just tried to chop my head off. She said, It must have been the first time she took a really good look at me, because when she looked at the stitches all around my neck, she took a step back. Okay, maybe we're in the same boat. She mumbled. Yeah, look, I can take you down to the basement to hide from your boyfriend,

but you cannot tell my boss this. Otherwise, it will be very bad for both of us. I explained to her. walking over to the basement door and pulling on it, groaning when I realized that it was locked. I should have figured that. Okay, maybe not. Look, you can just chill here with me until the morning, and then we can both deal with whatever the hell happens, I said, just exhausted from everything. Being unable to sleep is terrible. Thanks. I'm Liz. I think your boss already said my name. She offered her hand, and I shook it, not minding the blood on her.

I am, Travis. So what's with the blood? You murder your boyfriend? I asked her, walking over to the counter and offering her the rocking chair I'm never allowed to use during working hours. She sat down and started rocking a bit. No, I did stab him a shit ton of times, but as I was leaving the house, he stood up and rushed towards me. So, I just ran and ended up here. She explained, rubbing her arms and pulling away when she seemingly finally got a good look at

herself. You wouldn't happen to have an extra change of clothes, she asked me. Yeah, in the basement. I replied. I looked around the shop. The voodoo dolls were obviously not happy that I brought somebody into the shop after hours. I responded with the middle finger to them. judgmental assholes. We kind of just sat in silence until she finally broke it with a question

I knew it was coming. So what happened to you? She asked me. I looked at her with a raised brow and started chuckling. Clearly she doesn't read my post. I walked over to behind the counter and produced the missing person poster my parents had given King Creole. I handed it to her. That used to be me, I said with only a hint of sadness, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall next to her. She took it and looked down at it, then back at me. You look better with messy hair. She said, causing the first genuine smile I'd had in a very long time.

Ever since being turned into a voodoo puppet, my hair has been forced to be down and perfectly combed, opposed to my normal messy hair that I loved. Getting a compliment on my old hair was uplifting, to say the least. Thanks. I hope I can get it back someday. I sighed, looking over to the door and standing up straighter when I saw a figure shambling towards the shop. Hey, does your boyfriend usually walk on all fours?

I asked her, keeping my buttons trained on the figure shambling over to us. Uh, no? What kind of question is that? She asked, obviously confused. There was a loud knocking on the front door. She stood from the rocking chair and started to back up into me, smearing blood onto my suit. That's him, she said. Figured, I replied, as the creature started slamming into the front door.

To say he was a human is like comparing me to a normal human at this point. His face was split straight down the middle, and he had plenty of teeth inside of the crevice where his brains should have been. He was also clearly unaware or uncaring of the fact that his guts were spilling out all over the sidewalk. You said you just stabbed him. I asked Liz, as I leaned over the counter to search for a weapon. I had to make sure he was dead. Clearly, I should have done more. She said, producing a knife from the hoodie she was wearing. I looked at it, and then at her, and shrugged. Do you have any kind of magic shit that'll kill him? She asked me, as I calmly looked into the box of things I kept behind the counter. Look, I am just a slave

at this point. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm being held up by magic strings that disappear into the ceiling. Not much I can do in that department. I sighed, pulling out Officer Kilpatrick's gun from the box and slamming it out of the counter. Here, see if that'll help, I said, walking over to get King Creole out of his office. Liz, let me in, baby. I love you. I'm sorry about attacking you. The creature said, slamming its split head against the glass front door harder and harder,

starting to crack the glass of the front door, causing Liz to quickly pick up the gun and fumbling with it for a second as she aimed it towards the creature. I knocked on Creel's office and waited for him, tapping my foot on the floor as I waited. Except he didn't come out, which was odd to me. I tried again only for him not to respond either. Trying to open it, I found it locked as well, and I groaned. I know for a fact he doesn't sleep, since I don't sleep. So where the hell was he?

Well, bad news, Liz. Looks like we're on our own with this one. I said, walking back over to her and going back to the box for something to arm myself with, showing Liz how to turn the safety off as she panicked about it not firing. How can you be so calm about this? She asked, terrified, only getting a shrug back from me. In my defense, at this point I kind of expect this type of thing to happen. Finding the gun from one of the robbers, I checked the cylinder and found three bullets still

fired. Great. One for the monster, one for Liz, and one for me. That was a plus, I guess. All right. So we fire as many bullets as we can into him. Is that really our only plan? I asked her, sitting down on the rocking chair with a huff as I rubbed my aching legs. Standing up for so many hours, really doesn't number on him. Unless you have a better idea, she said, still pointing the pistol towards the creature that used to be her boyfriend, who was rapidly putting more cracks into the glass door with each hard smash of his head. Well, at least he was dedicated to that. You guys gonna help us out?

I asked the voodoo dolls. I turned my attention towards them, but as usual, they just gave me a blank look back whenever I tried to talk to him. Nope, I got no ideas here. I shrugged, clocking the hammer back on. the revolver and aiming it at the creature. We would have had a last stand there if I hadn't noticed the voodoo doll template on the counter. Ever since being turned into a puppet, I'd forgotten about my little companion. He seemingly hadn't forgotten about me, though, as he was holding

King Creole's key. I guess he wasn't such a little shit after all. Taking Liz by the arm, I pulled her over to the basement door and unlocked it, quickly pushing her in and walking in myself as her boyfriend broke through the door. I can't see a thing. She huffed, flinching when the creature started pounding on the door from the other side. But I gave her a pat on the shoulder and took her hand as I let her down the flight of stairs, able to see rather well down there. Don't worry, if Mary can't get through that door, he sure as hell isn't either, I said,

leading her to the basement and flicking on the lights. I turned around when she screamed at all the dead. bodies and human remains. Oh, and Mary, eating another customer. Hey, Mary, don't mind us, I said, waving to her. He won't be happy that you brought someone down here, she pointed out, wiping her blood-stained mouth and looking at the girl I'd brought down here. When is he ever happy about something I do? I asked back, reaching down and handing Liz some random articles of clothing.

I don't even think he's here. I knocked and he didn't come out of his office. I pointed out, leaning against the cold stone walls of the basement. Hmm. We'll just make sure she's out of here before he comes back. The porcelain woman said, going back to her meal with the same vigor she had before. Liz was obviously confused and scared, but I assured her that Mary was mostly harmless. Notting, she went over to the corner and changed out of her.

her bloody hoodie and jeans into another hoodie and jeans. Go figure. What are we going to do about Trevor? She asked after a decent period of silence. I looked at her with my button eyes and sighed, running my hands through my hair and thinking it over. There was a chance that the voodoo dolls would deal with it, but I'd only ever seen them do anything after King Creole had been attacked by the rookie cop. I guess waiting is the only thing we can do. I shrugged. I really didn't have any ideas.

If I couldn't get out of this place, how the hell am I supposed to come up with some kind of way to kill a boyfriend turned evil, undead creature? She wasn't exactly happy with this option, but there wasn't much we could do about it anyway. So, I'm guessing your parents didn't find you. She asked me. The subject wasn't the most ideal thing I wanted to talk about at this moment, but I figure there wasn't much else to talk about. No. Creole made it so the police won't investigate my disappearance. My parents came here to ask him about me, and I couldn't do anything to alert them that I was here.

I sighed, looking away and over to the corner. Well, if I get out of here, I'll tell him. Liz said, causing me to look over to her. Would she really do that? More importantly, what would ever happen after that? Creole wouldn't just let me go. He'd cause my parents more suffering, and by extension, me. I still remembered his threat to me. No, no, I can't risk Creole hurting them. Me and Mary are working on a way to get out of here. I just need some time to think.

I said, rubbing my face and scratching at my buttons. But right now, I got to make sure he doesn't find you. Let's just say he doesn't like people knowing that Mary exists down here. I said, walking over to her and taking her hand as I led her back to the stairs. I don't hear him, she whispered to me. And she was right. I didn't hear Trevor either. So turning off the basement light, we both started upwards towards the door, silent as we could be.

Reaching it, I placed my ear against it, and I heard a wet smacking, the usual sound I heard, when someone was getting beaten to death in the shop. Stay here, I told her, opening the door quickly and closing it behind me. My hunch was correct when I saw Creole beating the living shit out of Trevor with his cane. His gaze turned to me, and his scowl quickly turning into a wide smile. Travis, dear me, I thought this disgusting creature had gobbled you up. He chuckled, walking over to me and tussling my hair. Already I could feel my body tense up and my brain lose control as the strings took over.

No need to worry about me, sir, I said happily, praying to whatever God existed for me not to say that Liz was hiding in the basement. He looked me over and looked over to the basement door. No. Please. No. You're hiding something from little old me. See, aren't you, Travis?" He asked me with a smile, walking past me, and over to the basement.

I held my breath as he turned the knob, only for it not to open. He tisked and reached into his coat pocket, only he didn't find the key in there, or any of his other pockets. What the hell? He asked an annoyance. He looked over and grabbed me by my collar. Now you listen here, boy. He snarled, his yellow teeth sharpening back into fangs.

You tell me what the hell you hid down there. He snarled, causing me to gulp and try once again to bash my face against the voodoo monsters. But it wouldn't work this time. A girl, sir, I said in that stupid kiss-ass tone. The one who brought this creature with her. Is that so? Then it must be Miss Elizabeth. He asked with a coup, pushing me away and producing a needle from his pocket.

He inserted it and with a flick of his wrist opened the door, only to get met with a shot right into his face from Liz. The voodoo man stumbled backward and tripped over the bleeding corpse of Trevor. Run! I managed to choke out as the strict. Strings loosened, and I seemingly was able to have control over myself again. She nodded quickly and started booking it towards the entrance, only for her ankle to be grabbed by Creole's gloved hand and causing her to fall flat on her own face.

I tried to assist, but the strings instantly took their hold on me once again. "'Well, Miss Liz, seems your potion didn't turn out so well,' Creole chuckled. the hole in his head dripping with a black substance that usually came out of his mouth. Allow me to remedy that. He pulled her closer, and she shot him in his head. Travis, help me, she said, looking at me with sheer terror in her eyes. I wanted to. I wanted to force myself to move, but I was stuck there, just forced to look,

blankly at her. Travis, get this bitch down to the basement. I'm going to teach her some respect. Creole said, as he finally managed to pin Liz to the floor and slap the empty gun away as she tried to bash him with it. The strings pulled tight once again. I fought as hard as I could, guys. I swear I did.

But the strings pulled me over and forced me to pull Liz up. and hold her against me as I began dragging her to the basement. Creole stood up, dusted himself off, and chuckled, walking along with me as I pulled Liz screaming and kicking down to the basement. I helped Creole strap her to the table. He scolded me for letting someone in after hours and deemed that the punishment I would receive was to help him with what he was going to do. He hummed and walked over to the corner of the basement to look for an item. He came back with pieces of porcelain. My heart sank instantly when I saw that.

He placed each piece onto her and mumbled something to himself. Liz began screaming louder as the porcelain began to sizzle onto her skin and soon morphed perfectly. on top of it. He repeated this pattern, panel by panel, replacing every inch of her skin, just like Mary. Guess this is what he did to her. When he finished, Liz was completely porcelain, but unlike Mary, she couldn't move. She simply darted her eyes back and forth, tears streaming down her shiny, pale face. But he wasn't done yet. He looked over at May and smiled wide as he snapped his fingers. And before my eyes, she started shrinking, just like when he turned someone into a voodoo doll.

In no time flat, she was the size of a porcelain doll, and he picked her up carefully. Travis, Travis. He sighed at May, bringing the doll of Liz over to May and hold her up carefully. holding onto it as he tapped my cheek with his gloved hand. You shouldn't fall in love. You'll just end up in a million pieces. He explained, dropping Liz in front of me. I screamed as loud as I could in my mind as my body just stood there,

and I watched as she hit the floor. She shattered into a million pieces, a million. bleeding pieces. Clean the mess upstairs, William. We open in a few hours. He said, leaving me to stand over Liz's dead pieces. She was my only chance of escape. But besides that, she was just a poor girl who wanted to be loved. And this is how she ended up. Mary said there was no way she could have survived. She said that the only reason she's survives his beatings is because he leaves enough of her intact to rebuild. There's no fixing Liz.

And it's all my fault. After the unfortunate death of Liz, I slid further and further into hopelessness. All the days started blending together, and I started fighting the strings less and less. I felt like I was both being dragged around physically by the strings, and mentally, I just gave up fighting. Creole seemed to notice that as he tried to get some kind of reaction out of me, but I gave him no satisfaction at all with anything he tried. That seemed to annoy him at first, but I got that small victory. I might have fully surrendered to the strings if a familiar face hadn't shown up to the shop. When the rusty bell jingled, I didn't bother looking up

from my staring contest with a voodoo template on the counter, until the sound of little feet running over to me tore me away from my exhilarating game. Little Olivia stared up at me with her sweet little eyes. Wow, you look like Mr. King Creole, she said. I'd almost forgotten a girl and her new British mother. I looked at her, and the first smile in a couple of days crossed my face. She returned my smile and looked over to her mother as she came over to me. Her look was one of sorrow, covering her mouth with her hands as she looked at me. I couldn't stop him, I said, sighing, as I pointed to the strings forcing me to stand. She reached out and held my hands in hers as she offered me some comfort. It felt nice, and it was

nice to have someone not immediately hitting me with a wooden cane. As if to further push that train of thought, King Creole emerged from his office, a big wide smile on his face. "'Ollivia, darling,' he said with his big cheer. grin, coming over as the little girl ran to him and wrapped her little arms around him. Don't you worry, dear. I know what day it is today, he said with a soft chuckle, petting her head as he kneeled down to her level. She looked up at him flabbergasted. You know today is my birthday, she asked with a smile. The voodoo owner nodded and stood back up, looking over at me and Olivia's mother, a finger coming up and wagging her.

wagging at the two of us. Olivia's mother quickly let go of my hand and stood back. She feared the creature just as much as I did. He smiled when she was finally away from me and turned his attention back to Olivia. Of course I do. Now come along, darling. I've got the perfect present for you. Creole said, taking Olivia's hand and leading her to the office. Her mother followed after them and soon enough left me alone once the office door was closed, leaving me alone once again. Well, at least someone showed me some kindness. It felt nice. The trio emerged from King Creole's office and chuckled, as Olivia thanked him a million times for her gift-wrapped present, smiling down at her and then over at me, his button eyes met mine, and he chuckled.

How about a story? Before y'all leave for your party. He He asked her, looking down at Olivia, who quickly nodded and jumped up and down, handing the gift to her mother and really just wanting to hear his story. "'Travs, my boy, bring that rocking-chair in your old stool over here.' He ordered me. I nodded and brought the two chairs over. Creole took the stool and Olivia climbed up onto it. Now, once upon a time there was a man named Charlie.

He began, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he looked up at me and Olivia's mother. We both looked away from his commanding gaze. Now, Charlie loved playing the piano. He wasn't very good at it at first, but he kept practising and practicing. Day after day he played the same songs over and over, just to get the movements down perfectly. And one day he did it. He'd mastered the piano. The voodoo man smiled, lifting his fingers up and mimicking like he was playing the piano. Wow. Couldn't he just have wished to be better at the piano? Olivia asked the storytelling voodoo man. He let out a howling laugh, causing me and Olivia's mother

to flinch. No, darling, my mama always said life can't be solved with a wish. You got to roll up them sleeves of yours and get it yourself. Charlie knew that, and he never stopped practicing and getting better. He even started his very own band. He smiled, seeing Olivia with stars in her eyes. He continued, he even fell in love and got engaged, but life isn't always fair to hard-working people like Charlie. He sighed, leaning back in the rocking chair and letting it creak. Now, you and I already know this story. We know who Charles Sumner was and who he became. I knew this very well in my futile attempt to stop my fate from happening, so why was Creole telling an abridged version to Olivia, especially on her birthday of all days? The brutal murder of Charles Sumner isn't exactly the kind of

children's story, I'd tell a kid. What happened to Charlie? Olivia asked, now concerned, plastered all over her face as she scoched closer to the edge of the stool to look up at King Creole. The voodoo man's smile grew as he let the chair rock him back closer to Olivia. Little old Charlie, well, he won a contest, a contest that gave him a lot of money. He was going to by him and his fiance, a nice plot of land with a house on it. But Charles' little lady friend was very naughty. She wanted that money all for herself. He said, his smile straining his stitched up mouth as his rocking on the chair continued, she decided to get her secret boyfriend to steal the money from Charlie so they could keep her secret boyfriend to steal the money from Charlie, so they could keep

it all to themselves." At that line, my buttons instinctively drifted over to the basement door. Mary had been punished for her crime, for close to a hundred years at this point, and it seemed like there would be no end in sight for her. Who was that Greek myth guy? The one whose liver got eaten by that giant bird every day? Prometheus, I think. I guess that's what kind of punishment old King Creole dishes out.

So, on the night he won the contest, Charlie was brought to a bar to celebrate and have a party with people he thought were his friends. Then they took him out to the woods. The smile on the pale voodoo store owner's face dropped a bit. Then they started beating him, saying all manner of horrible things to him. He said, shaking his head and looking at Olivia, who was captivated by every word being spoken to her. Did they kill him?

The little girl asked. Clearly she was smarter than her years let on. She could tell where the story was going. Not right away. They beat him. And when they realized Charlie had gotten a very good look at all their faces, well, they picked up some sticks. They stabbed them into Charlie's eyes.

You cannot imagine the pain Charlie felt his so-called friends hurting him this badly. Creoles said, taking his top hat off and running his gloved hands through his messy black hair. Only the problem was, that didn't kill Charlie. Oh, he screamed and screamed and screamed. anyone would if that happened to them. The people hurting him, well, they panicked. What if someone heard that and they'd come? Creole quickly put his hat on and sat up straight as he looked at Olivia.

Did someone come to save Charlie? The little girl asked, hugging the doll of her old mother that never left her side. I was also on the edge of my seat. Even though I knew the outcome, what can I say? He's a good storyteller. No, nobody did. But they were so scared that they'd be seen and caught that they had to act fast. One of them grabbed a rusty saw from the back of one of them trucks.

The others held Charlie down, shoving his face into the cold, wet, dirt. And then they started cutting. Only there was a pretty much. was a problem. The saw was duller than they were, and I didn't cut well at all. He said, and that made sense. The cut to my neck that Creole gave me is nice and smooth. He did it with a nice sharp saw. His own cut, though, it's jagged and uneven in places, like someone really forced it to be cut. How long did it take to end? Olivia whimpered.

Her mother came over to hug her from behind to calm her down, the little girl burying her face and her mother's dress, but still looking over at Creole, obviously still fascinated by the story. Oh, it took a very long time, darling. Creole said, 30 minutes from when the saw started cutting to when Charlie's head fell off his shoulders. They covered his body under some leaves and sticks, and they left him there. He said, holding his hands up, as if that was the end. But he continued, another smile spreading across his face. But they did not account for his mama. I raised a brow at this.

Creole never talked about his mother. It was something that sent him into a fury when he was a Never me and especially Mary brought it up. But here he was, telling a little girl all about his elusive mother. Me and Olivia's mother were obviously curious. Now Charlie's mama was very skilled in the arts of voodoo. She was loved by everyone for healing the sick and helping the needy. And when she learned that her son was missing, oh now she sprung into action. She found Charlie's body within a few days of him going missing.

But she didn't report it to no police. Oh, no, no. He tisked, wagging his finger at all three of us. She took him straight back home, and she fixed him right up, bringing him back to the land of the living. Olivia gasped and started clapping in excitement, looking up at her mother like it was was a miracle. Now, Charlie was very upset at what happened to him. He worked so hard all his life and he'd been taken advantage of. Well, he decided that it was his turn to have the fun. He chuckled, looking up at me with a smile. He made everyone who killed him suffer, especially his fiancée.

and her secret boyfriend. He hummed with a smile. If he'd done something this horrible to marry, I can only imagine what he did to Henry, her secret mob boyfriend. Wow. What did Charlie do when he was done? Olivia asked,

setting her doll on her lap, and looking up at him for an answer. He smiled down at her and tussled her hair. Why? He decided to take her to tell him. teach everyone the same lesson he learned. Taking the easy way only gets you punished. He said with a chuckle, looking over at me and Olivia's mother, Your new mama learned that the hard way. Your new mama left her family and moved to America

to start a new life just for herself. Now, she's the best mother you ever could have asked for. He smiled, Olivia nodding back quickly and turned to her. to hug her mother nice and tight. She looked over at me and nodded sadly. But what about him? What did he do? She asked, pointing at me and then looking at Creole. I also looked at him expecting some bullshit thing I'd done to deserve this.

What he said made me want to pull out the switchblade I've been hiding this whole time and just stab his heart out. I was feeling selfish. He replied, standing up and walking past me as the strings tightened and forced me to stand in place while he said his goodbyes to Olivia and her mother. Both of them left the shop, and he approached me and wrapped his arm around my stiff body. Travis, my boy, your parents called me once again. They're begging me to help them find you.

I think they might even be coming. and over again. Who knows? If they ask for a wish, I just might grant it. He chuckled, grabbing my face and pulling it over to look at him. He smiled wide as he squished my cheeks. You wouldn't dare. I choked out, managing to fight off the string's influence enough to say that. That got a hard laugh out of him. He smacked me across my face and caused me to me to go limp against my will. He put his dress shoe on my face and put down pressure on it. I wouldn't dare, he asked, after laughing at me for a good while, putting even more pressure

on my head. If you weren't my sweet little pet, I would have already gutted you like a fish and used you for a voodoo doll. He hummed, reaching down and grabbing me by my hair and pulling me back up. Listen here. If you so much as try anything with Mary, I'll kill your parents right in front of you," he said with a smile, dropping me back on the floor and fixing his tie. I struggled to push myself up and look at him, gritting my teeth and trying to think of a way to fight back.

And what I said is the reason I haven't posted an update in a while. You know, your mother would be so disappointed that this is what you're doing, I said, and I instantly regretted it. When he stopped in place and looked back at me, his teeth grinding hard as he came over to me, grabbing his cane from seemingly nowhere and starting to beat me with it. That was normal when he got pissed off, but this time he dragged me by the suit collar down into the basement. You will not speak of my mother." He growled as he tossed me down to the floor of the basement and snapped his fingers. The strings on my body pulled tight as he had me suspended from the floor.

I guess I'll have to make sure that filthy mouth of yours is kept shut. He smiled as he produced a needle and thread. He stabbed my lips with it. and he sewed my mouth shut. He left me dangling from the ceiling for two straight days. Mary managed to cut the threads on my mouth with the porcelain shards that she always had near her. After he calmed down, he dragged me back up to the counter and shoved me behind it. Pointing a gloved finger at my face, the voodoo human doll delivered a threat to me that has left me chilled to the bone. You so much as speak out of line, and I will turn your parents into dolls,

and I will burn them in front of you, he said, stepping away from me and letting his threats seep in. He means it, and he has the ability to do it. I need to stop him. I need to kill him. Let me get this straight, and for the record, I don't know. how to do any kind of voodoo. It's not like King Creole has a how-to-do voodoo book lying around here somewhere. And let's just say the internet has been even less helpful. Anything I try just ends up with me getting beat by my beloved boss when he discovered what I tried to do. So that's completely off the table for me. Though it would have been cool to give him the same shit he's been given me. So far, the only thing I had going for me was the Switchblade and Mary.

The old porcelain girl still might have some fight in her. Plus, I still have the key to the basement that my little template voodoo friend gave me. Creole seemingly hasn't noticed, or he has an infinite amount of keys because he easily goes down there every day to beat Mary and to do his usual messed up shit down there. So when he went down there today, I expected to hear the usual shattering porcelain sounds. But I didn't hear it this time. I heard. A piano. Now let me tell you something, hearing any kind of music break the deafening silence

of the shop was like hearing the voice of an angel. I turned back to look at the basement door and raised a brow as to where the hell a piano had come from. I've been down there a lot. There ain't no piano down there. I walked over to the basement door and found it open. Now, this was very strange. Well, he hadn't told me not to come down there, so I silent walk down the steps. The sounds of a sweet yet sad tune played and grew louder the closer I came towards the basement. I stopped just short of the final step and pressed myself up against the stone wall, peeking my head over to see what was happening down here. And my jaw hit the floor faster than an anvil from the sky. The basement looked completely different. No hanging bodies,

no bones, no rotting corpses. Nothing. Instead, it was a concert hall, like a full-on, giant concert hall, seats with cushions with people sitting in them and watching. Now, not real people obviously. Each one of them had a stitched-up mouth and button eyes. Most likely he made an audience out of the bodies down here. I looked over to the stage, and my button eyes nearly fell off. Because playing the piano wasn't King Creole. It was Charles Sumner, well-combed hair, tan, normal eyes, and a big smile on his face as he played the piano. My confusion was immense, but he played the piano so beautifully. It was almost hypnotizing.

I looked around for a place to sit, and I found one next to one of the guys who had once wished for a million dollars and ended up getting hit by a car right after. He said nothing as I sat down. I kept staring at the stage, my button eyes soaking in the scenery of something that had only happened in the 1920s when Charles was still alive. I can see all that practice really paid off for him. It would have been a lovely concert, maybe one for the history books, until Mary descended from the ceiling to the stage with wires attached to her.

Unlike Charles, who was all smiles and soaking up the opportunity, Mary looked sad and almost unwanted in a way, and yet she, too, was human again. The very definition of beauty. She had golden blonde hair, pale skin, and wore a white dress. When she landed on the stage, she took a step forward and looked back at Charles. He ignored her, but kept playing his heart out. Mary sighed and looked out to the crowd. I'm not going to do this again, Charles. I hate it, she said finally, causing Charles to miss the stroke of the key and then snap his attention over to her. Standing up, I felt my blood run cold as he pushed away from the piano and started to walk over to her.

I reached down to my shoe and removed the switchblade. Yes, I've been hiding it in my shoe the whole time. It's what he gets for giving me way too big of shoes. Listen, you whore. Charles snarled from the stage. His anger was obvious. He walked over to Mary and grabbed her by the throat, the woman gasping and starting to hit him on his chest.

You know what today is, and you damn well better sing. Or I will make sure this eternal punishment of yours becomes much worse. He said, Good. At least I'll finally be free of you. She choked out, raising another hand to strike him, only for him to intercept it and toss her to the ground.

The woman coughed and hacked, soon an entire chunk of her face falling into her hands. Her skin began cracking all over the place. And soon enough, she was back to her porcelain form. Very well, then. Oh, Travis, Charles suddenly asked, spinning on his heels and looking at me. I froze and quickly shoved the knife into my pocket, looking around and seeing that every person in the crowd was looking at me.

Come on over here, boy, I require your services. He chuckled, walking back over to the piano. Sitting down with some dramatic flare, he began playing playing. some practice notes. Those notes sent my strings trembling, and I was soon forced to stand up and walk over to the stage. My buttons looked at Mary as I passed her and took her place on the stage. I looked then over at Charles, who waved back at me and started up the music again. The second he did, the strings pulled tighter than ever and began to force me to dance. Now, Normally I can't dance. I look like a thrashing fish more than anything. But the strings forced

me to dance as elegantly as any professional dancer. This wouldn't be too much of a problem, except for the fact that every motion the strings made caused me more pain than I can even begin to try to explain to you. Each and every pull of those strings felt as if each limb was being pulled out of their socket, along with my skin being pulled off with a potato peeler. I screamed with each and every pull of the string. Each and every dance move, each and every tone of Charles's piano keys was like another peel of my skin. Mary watched in horror as I screamed and begged for her help. She looked between me and Charles before she finally stood up. Stop. Enough. I'll sing. She finally said, causing Charles to stop and turn to her. By extension,

this allowed me to stop as well. I collapsed to the floor, crying and whimpering at just how much pain I was in. Mary walked over to me and carefully put her hand on mine, flinching away when I hissed out in pain. You better start before I force him to do it again." Charles threatened. His fingers hovering over the keys and ready to force me up once again. The woman waved him off, helping me sit up first before she backed up. Looking out at the crowd, Mary sighed and then took a deep breath.

And then she started to sing, not like lyrics, but like an opera singer. mind. It was incredible, just like Charles's piano playing. The two of them went together, in perfect harmony. Charles started to play it again while Mary sang her heart out. I just watched from the stage completely enraptured as my aching body began to heal from my abuse. It was something that you can only really experience if you were there. It was as if Beethoven and Mozart cooperated together to create something made of pure beauty. It was heavenly. To think a monster like him could produce something so beautiful. Softly, Mary finished, and with a flurry of keystrokes, Charles finished. He stood from the piano, stepped away from it, and bowed to the crowd. The corpses

Stood up and clapped, Happy birthday, Mama, he said to the ceiling, lowering his head, and in a short breath, the stage was gone. I don't know how he did it. I can't even blink, and yet in the blink of an eye, the basement was back to its normal, horrible self. Creole was back, putting his top hat on his head and sighing out from his nose. I hope she's burning in hell as you'll be. Mary spat, causing Creole to swiftly turn around and bitch-smacker, sending shards of porcelain to the floor, and causing Mary to fall back into the wall and fall to the floor. Creole then turned to me and smiled, As if she wouldn't be joining me, he chuckled,

walking past me and toward the stairs. His steps heading up most likely back to his office. I went over to Mary and I helped her back up, handing her some pieces of herself, which she thanked me for. I'm guessing he does that every year, huh? I asked her, sitting down next to the porcelain woman. She nodded. His tribute to her for bringing him back to life and for being a good mother, I guess. She explained, looking over at me with her only eye and sighing, shaking her head and looking

over to all the bones and bodies lying about. I'm no better than him. I eat anything he sends down here just to be able to grow back any piece of my body. If I really wanted him to kill me, I would just have to stop eating. And yet here I am, she said with a sorrowful chuckle. looking over to me and reaching a hand out to touch my face, sending me flinching a bit, but she softly rubbed my red-painted cheeks. Those look good on you.

Some much-needed color. I'd rather have some real color. I chuckled, letting her touch me for a second before pulling away. I don't know if it's because she's my only contact in this horrible place, but it's comforting to know that she cares about me, at least enough to stop my suffering when she's not. she can. Our moment was interrupted by a hard crack to the back of my head, sending me falling into her lap. As I looked up, I saw Creole snarling down at the both of us. You trying to steal my pet, whore? He asked, raising his cane and striking her harder,

growling as he struck her hard enough to shatter a good portion of her face. I looked over once I regained myself. I saw what he did. done to her. And I acted. I pulled the switchblade out of my pocket and brought the blade up and grabbed King Creole by the shoulder. Turning him around, he looked at me in absolute confusion and fury as I slashed at his throat with a blade. I managed to cut almost the entirety of his front stitches, causing a big spray of black liquid to come flying out of his throat and causing him to stumble forward and onto the floor, clutching his throat as he did so. You idiot, what have you done?

He choked out, staring up at me with the rage of a cornered animal. Acting on impulse, I kicked him in the head, and I broke more stitches, causing more of the liquid to ooze out of him, and causing him to fall flat on his face as he bled out. I backed up and dropped the knife. Looking over at Mary, she was putting her face back together and staring at awe at what I'd done. That didn't last too long, though, as the voodoo man pushed himself back up, his head dangling down by his shoulder and chuckling up at me. He stood up and fixed his head back easily, pulling out his threads and needle and leaving

the items to stitch up his neck. I backed up from him, quickly reaching down and grabbing the knife again. You really risked the lives of your family for a whore like her, he asked with a giggle, clearly pissed off royally and trying to hide behind a forced smile. When the floated thread and needle were finished, they dropped themselves into his hand, and he carefully put them in his pocket. He reached down to the floor, dusted off his hat, and placed it on his head with a smile. His smile widened, and then he lunged at me and shoved me into the wall with the force of an

18-wheeler. I tried stabbing him again, but he simply took the stab through his hand and looked at me. Why aren't you dead? I asked as I kicked my legs at him. He answered with a chuckle and a pat to the cheek. It takes more than that to undo my mama's work." He answered, looking back over at Mary to make sure she wasn't doing anything to try and save me this time. Then, looking back at me and looking at the knife embedded in his hand, he tisked at me.

It looks like I'm paying your parents a visit. Don't you dare, you psycho, I said, desperately trying to get out of his death grip. But he just watched and laughed like an animal playing with its food. He had the upper hand on me, and I'd lost my only advantage against him. He tossed me to the floor and stomped on my head with his dress shoes as he looked down at me. I will do you one better, Travis. How about I bring them here? Show them that you're alive and well.

And then have you kill them for me. He said, with a giggle, grinding his heel into my skull and causing me to thrash and try to fight him off. But I felt the pull of the strings, and my angry growls and curses turned into a big smile. That sounds perfect, sir. I'll get the tools ready for you. I happily said as he lifted his foot off of me, and let me stand back up. He smiled as he looked at me and nodded.

Why, that sounds excellent, Travis. Why, I bet they'll be so happy to see you. Just imagine the looks on their faces as you slice off their skin and help me turn them into dolls. He said with another giggle. I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and crush it with the force of a vice. But all I could do was nod and salute him. I can't wait, sir. I decalced. He nodded and tussled my combed hair, turning and starting to walk upstairs before he suddenly stopped and turned to look at me. Giravus, be a good boy and bring Massa his cane, he said with a hum. I turned my head to look at the item sitting on the floor, turning back to him and finally walking to get the item. I picked it up and handed it back to him. Good boy, he said, walking upstairs and leaving me, the knife still stabbed in his hand. Well, I messed up. I wasted my only chance to kill him, and now he'll be back with my parents

at any moment, and it's all my fault. I should have fully decapitated him. Maybe that would have worked, I don't know anymore. I've been laying on the floor of the shop for about five minutes now, just crying. Well, I was, because I think I have one more chance. My little voodoo template friend has just produced a scissor blade for me. I'm sorry I ever said anything bad about you, little guy. It looks like I have a chance. I'll save you, mom and dad. I promise. King Creole took a sweet time bringing my parents over, and that worked in my favor. With the help of my little template friend, I got a scissor blade.

What better weapon could I ask for? With renewed vigor, I acted quickly and headed downstairs to get Mary. She was my only real ally in this fight, so her help would be important. Although, let's just say she was more than a little skeptical. That is the worst plan I have ever heard of." She said, her face pressed against her hand as she shook it. Well, she didn't have much confidence in me. But at the same time, I didn't hear her coming up with any ideas.

Even if I agree to help you, you're going to be under his control. How are you going to go against that? She asked me, a quizzical look plastered on her cracked face. Well, that's where you come in. You got to ambush him from behind and split his. his attention. I know for a fact he loses control when he stops focusing. I pointed out to her, handing her half a scissor. She looked down at the item, like it was an armed grenade, looking up to me. Where the hell did you get this? She asked, admiring the surprisingly sharp

item. She dragged her porcelain finger across it. That template doll that sits on my counter, I said quickly, looking back up to the stairs and then to her. Look, it's not important right now. I'll leave the basement door unlocked, and when you see Creole get close enough to the door, just ambush him. It'll get me enough time to be out of his control and help you. Please, Mary, I don't want him to hurt my parents. I begged her, grabbing her hands and squeezing them against mine. She was trembling as she looked down at the item, and then up to me. All right. Yes.

Okay, I'll do it. She nodded, looking around the basement and walking off in a direction, producing a scarf and pulling it tight against her hands. I'll wrap this around his neck, and I'll fight against him as best I can. She said softly, coming over to me and handing me back the scissors. But you need to cut his head off completely this time. No half-ass in it, she said, poking her finger in. into my chest. I nodded and wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into my chest, thanking

her softly before quickly going upstairs to arrange anything else that might help us in our battle against the voodoo king. My little friend wasn't much of a help, but he'd done more than enough for me. I walked into the office and quickly looked around the boss man's place. I looked at the only picture he cared about, Charles and his mama. I talked to him. I talked to the only picture he cared about. I talked to took it and shoved it into my suit. Quickly, I made my way back to the counter and sat in agonizing silence as I waited for him to show up. It was maybe an hour or two later that he strolled right into the shop with my mother and father in tow. I hadn't seen my parents and who knew how long, and when they saw me standing at the counter, my mother screamed and quickly fainted in my dad's

arms. Mom always was kind of squeamish. What did you do to our son." My dad shouted, obviously having mixed up feelings about his only kid looking the way I did. Creole simply chuckled and drummed his fingers on his cane. His buttoned eyes turned over to look at me with a more than satisfied smirk. "'Travs, my boy. You just gonna stand there? Come greet your mama and daddy.' He ordered, snapping his fingers. The old familiar pull of the strings forced me over to my parents. At the very least, he let me talk. Dad, I managed to choke out through pent-up tears. I wanted to reach my arms out and hug him tight. My mom started coming around again, and she looked at me,

reaching a shaking hand out. I may have been an undead puppet, but I was still their son. Travis, my mother whimpered, touching my painted cheeks and my combed hair. Aw, now as much as I'd hate to break up the sweet family reunion, Creole interrupted, walking over to us and smiling as he rubbed the head of his cane with his gloved hands. Travis here has been a very bad boy, and unfortunately I do believe a punishment is in order. He hissed, raising his cane and snapping his finger again. My body went as stiff as a board, and a smile was forced upon my face, as I took the offered cane and raised it above my head.

I brought it down on my mother's head. With a sickening crack, she went down. I was screaming internally as my dad looked at what I'd done. I wish I could have told them the reason I'd done it, that I was. isn't in control, but I just as quickly raised the cane again, and I brought it down on his head as well. Good boy! Creole hummed, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close.

He smiled and pinched my cheek playfully as he took back the cane. Be a dear and start taking them to the basement, he said, walking over to the basement door to unlock it. And that's when Mary burst through the door and tackled him. He barely had time to react, before Mary was on top of him and wrapping the scarf around his neck and pulling it tight. As I'd predicted, his control over me faded, and I quickly pulled the scissor blade out. As Mary fought with him, I ran over and plunged the blade into his mouth.

What are you doing? Mary shouted, still trying to contain him to the floor as I jostled for space next to her. I didn't have time to answer her, so instead, I showed her, dragging the scissors across his stitched up mouth and cutting free all of them. His jaw dropped open soon enough, and that black sludge began to leak out of his mouth. Next, I started putting the blade against his throat and slicing as many stitches as I could. But, inevitably, he threw us off and stumbled to his feet, barely able to stand on his own. Oh, you've done it now, he snarled, spitting out black sludge as he stumbled forward to us. He covered his mouth to keep the fluid inside of him and kept his

other hand on the cane to keep himself up. It was clear to me now that the black sludge was somehow keeping his rotting corpse alive. So getting it out of him was the key to beating him. Now, Charles, I said through pants, reaching into my suit and pulling out the picture of his mother, didn't your mama ever teach you not to swear? I asked, removing the picture from the frame, and stabbing the blade through it. If I pissed him off before, well, I really pissed him off with that stunt. He seemingly got a second wind, and he pounced on me, tackling me to the floor and beating me with his fist and his cane when he felt like it. He might very well have killed me if Mary hadn't stabbed him in the button eye with one of her shards. He screamed something fierce,

And he fell off of me. His left button eye cracked into and fell off to the floor. He looked up at her with his single remaining button and forced himself to stand back up. You gonna kill me again? He asked her, reaching out for his cane and using it to push himself up. Obviously, his strength was waning as the floor was starting to be coated in his black sludge. No, Charles. I'm finally going to end this, she said, helping me back up and handing me the scarf to clean my bleeding face.

I struggled to stand as well, but I finally managed and brandished my blade out like it was a knife. The voodoo king Creole was finally about to be bested, except for the fact that we were in his shop where he had all the power. It won't be that easy. He chuckled, which turned into a coughing fit as he covered his mouth again. I was ready for anything until I noticed the wall of voodoo dolls was empty. I swallowed a lump in my throat as I pointed it out to Mary.

We both collectively looked around, and then up to the ceiling, where dozens of button eyes stared down at us. I forgot about those, I said, having forgotten all about Creole's bodyguards. They fell on us like a pile of rats, each of them stabbing us with needles or razor blades, or even little claws that they had built in. Mary had an easier time with it. She was made of porcelain, so it was much harder to actually hurt her. Me, on the other hand, I was getting torn to shit. They slid down my strings and just had a blast slicing me and stabbing me. Creole, meanwhile, struggled his way towards his office, most likely to sew up the damage to himself.

When the front door opened, and I heard a familiar voice, Don't listen to him anymore, Olivia's mother said. Her face twisted in fear and determination. All the voodoo dolls suddenly stopped and looked over to one that used to be among their ranks. Creole stared at her like he'd kill her if she said another word, but it didn't stop her. He has to hurt all of us and caused you to forget who you used to be. You were all people once, lied to, and betrayed by him. He's the enemy. She pointed to the limping Creole, who looked around as all of the dolls turned their head to him.

Y'all got what was coming to you. You asked for something and I gave it to you. He declared. The voodoo dolls weren't persuaded, however. They all looked at each other and then they leaped from me and Mary. On to Creole, he cursed something fierce as they swarmed him and tackled him to the ground. It was like ants swarming dropped. food. Thank you, I said to Olivia's mother. She waved it off and quickly took the scissors

from me and reached up to cut off my strings, only for me to stop her and point to my unconscious parents. Help them first, please. I said quickly. She looked at me with hesitation, but quickly nodded, kneeling and pulling each of them out of the shop. Was that part of your brilliant plan? Mary asked after a moment. I looked over to her, and I chuckled, rubbing my combed hair and messing it up some, sighing happily at being able to do that. Of course it was. I'm a master strategist, I declared.

Although our joking was short-lived when Creole's hand burst through the pile of voodoo dolls and emerged from them, his button back and his stitches fixed. Guess having dolls. made out of all the items he needed to fix himself up with to attack him wasn't the best idea. God, he was like a cockroach. Everyone's betraying me today. He snarled, fixing his tie and storming over to us. Me and Mary backed up and pointed our makeshift weapons at him.

I peeked over him to see all the voodoo dolls lifeless on the floor. They'd fought the good fight. I backed up and my foot hit something on the floor. Looking down, a beautiful sight met my eyes. My dad's zippo lighter. It must have fallen out of his pocket when Olivia's mother had dragged him outside. Thank you for being a smoker, Dad. I reached down and lifted up the item, flicking it to life and tossing the burning flame over to the pile of voodoo dolls.

And those babies must have been made of gasoline because they went up quicker than a forest fire. No, Creole screeched, staring back at me in horror as the fire began to spread further across the shop. You idiot, have you any idea of what you've done? He shouted at me, staring back at the growing inferno. The smoke from the voodoo dolls began to rise, but then the same. smoke seemingly turned at a 90-degree angle and headed down towards the basement. At the time, I had no idea what had just happened. Now, with hindsight, it was pretty clear. That smoke was the souls trapped in the voodoo dolls, and they were heading down to their bodies.

Looks like your time on earth is finally up, Charles, Mary declared. Creal turned to her and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her out of my reach and forcing me to stay stiff against the front door as he backed up away from me. Oh, don't you think you ain't coming with me, whore? He snarled. I watched in horror as shambling, rotting corpses started rising up from the darkness of the basement. Some had no flesh to speak of and were just bones shambling for their revenge.

Creole looked back and shoved Mary into their awaiting clutches. She was grabbed and began to be torn apart, I guess for eating their corpses maybe. Mary, I shouted, horrified that my only friend was being killed right before my eyes. But she looked back with not an ounce of fear in her eyes. Instead, she smiled and nodded towards me. I think it was her way of thanking me, for being with her, for being her friend, and helping her escape the hellish torture. She waved goodbye to me, and then she was shattered into a million little pieces, all of them shining and dropping to the floor. This ain't over, Travis.

I will make sure you suffer for all of this." Creole yelled as his shop was engulfed in fire and the rotting corpses of his victims came closer and closer to him. He shoved his finger towards me and said, You don't get out of this that easily. And then he was grabbed from behind and dragged back towards the basement door. He kicked and screamed, his stitched up mouth breaking open once more and his sharp yellow teeth snapping at anything. This isn't over. He said one last time, as the creatures pulled him down into the basement and the fire engulfed the door.

And then the strings went slack and I fell to the ground. I looked at them and then my hands shook as they seemingly disappeared into thin air. I was free. But I didn't have time to waste. The fire was spreading fast and I needed to get out of there before I became one with a shop permanently. But there was one thing I knew I could save. Braving the roaring fire, I walked over to the counter and saw that my little template friend was still sitting there. I reached out and grabbed him.

Shuffing him into my pocket, I quickly rushed out of the shop as the fires reached the ceiling. I exited and came upon Olivia's mother tending to my parents. He's gone. So is Mary, I said sadly, looking to the floor and starting to cry. She reached out and wrapped her loving arms around me, hugging me tight as I let out all my pent-up emotions. I may have been free from him, but I wasn't back to normal. I still had button eyes, pale skin, stitches across my neck, and those stupid rosy cheeks. Guess I would have expected that to change back to normal, but I guess not.

Alexandra, the woman said after a period of letting me cry, I looked at her confused, and she gave a loving smile to me. My name. So you can stop calling me Olivia's mother. She chuckled, tussling my hair and getting a sad but genuine chuckle out of me. I guess I never did ask her own name, huh? Alexandra helped me take my parents to our house, just as the fire department showed up to fight the fire. Let's just say the police were livid when they saw the burning voodoo establishment.

Turns out, as told me by Alexandra, that the police force made a deal with Creole decades ago. He keeps crime low for them. them, and they don't investigate when anyone goes missing. A beautiful partnership. It also explains why no one ever investigated us, and why that rookie did. No one told them that I mess around with King Creole. Arriving home with my parents, Alexandra assured me that their wounds were not serious and that they'd recover.

That left me plenty of time to think, to think about how to change myself back to normal. get me wrong. Immortality sounds great and all. But if it means once again being cooped up in my room for my entire life, well, I'd rather at least try to find a way to change back. I also had to find a way to tell my parents the entire story of what happened. It was a little awkward for them to see me like this at first, and I know they still try to avoid eye contact with me, but they still love me. And they're so happy to have me back in the house with them. They offered to help me to help me in my search to reverse this, but they've been through so much already that I decided to go it alone.

Well, with the help of Alexandra and Olivia, of course. And the template. He's no normal voodoo doll. For once, he can communicate with me. Well, kind of. He leaves me little notes from time to time, giving me advice and updates. More often than not, it's that he loves me. Cute little guy is thankful I saved him.

For now, I've been trying to get into contact with anyone who knows anything about ludo and curses, not much success, just your usual nuts, but I'm giving it my all to try and find a way to fix myself now more than ever. I've been able to finally fall asleep and enjoy a good night's rest for the first time in who knows how long. This one night, I had a dream, a nightmare, really. I was back in the shop, the burnt-out remains of the shop, and the only thing intact was the basement door. Reaching out to open it, I entered it and walked down the winding path. And then I saw him, sitting in a chair waiting for me.

He looked up at me with a big smile, a cup of wine in a cup of wine in the room. in his hand as he looked up at me. My body froze as he set the cup next to him and stood up walking over to me and giving me a wide smile. I told you, Travis, it ain't over. I woke up in a cold sweat, panning hard and looking around my room. I looked over over to the voodoo template on my nightstand, and he pointed to the window. I staggered over to it and looked out. In the darkness, one normally couldn't see what was standing out there, but with my button eyes, I saw him standing underneath the street lamp. He tipped his top hat to me, and when the street light flickered back on, he'd disappeared.

Thank you.