“Mon dieu Hans!” Marcel the Mardi Gras MMXV doll exclaimed. “It is as they say… you had one job, no?” His box rattled loudly as his beaded pantaloons kicked at the lid.

“Quietly my dear, you’ll wake her,” a darker figure murmured further back from the closet.

Marcel’s box lid slid to the bottom of the closet and landed with a pop. The colorful doll sat up in the box slowly and rotated his grotesque clown head toward the voice in the back. “Oui? You have a what is it, plan B then mademoiselle?”

Lenore Madame Alexander Edgar Allen Poe Anniversary Edition emerged from the shadows. Of all the dolls her porcelain skin was the most pale and translucent. Her black dress was adorned with intricate lace and onyx crystals woven into the fabric like smoky teardrops. She smoothed her dress at the sides – a gesture of habit more than necessity. Nothing was ever out of place with Lenore.

“The child did not like Hans and who wouldn’t blame him?” She sniffed and lifted an articulated bone hand with a delicate handkerchief glancing at Hans. “But he might like you Marcel. Why don’t you try?” She fluttered her thick black eyelashes at him.

Marcel crossed his arms as if preparing himself to argue. “No! I am not a clown to just be used and thrown out to the alley!”

“Are you afraid of a child?” Lenore asked and cocked her head to the side.

Marcel looked stubborn, “No… no… it is… you know how they are mademoiselle…”

Lenore glided forward toward Marcel. The silk taffeta of her dress gently rustled as she placed her arm inside of Marcel’s elbow, like an old friend. “All will be well. Just gain the child’s affections and then she will bring us all out once again and… we will be free, Marcel. Liberte!” she leaned closer to him gripping his garish arm more tightly.

Marcel’s face, a permanent grin of hilarity, stared into Lenore’s. “You know I would do anything for you Cheri…” he whispered.

Lenore stood up straight and lifted her bony arm into the air. A tiny black parasol shaped like a missile flew into her hand. She snapped it open and a small gust of dusty wind welled up from the floorboards in the closet and lifted her to the door handle.

She turned the latch and pushed the door with a strength a doll wouldn’t… shouldn’t have.

Looking back over her shoulder she could see some of the others beginning to rouse. “Quickly my love, freedom awaits.”

“And just what were you going to do about the dog?” A confident male voice emerged from the other corner of the closet.

“I, Marcel, am not afraid of a mongrel!”

Lenore’s eyes narrowed, and she glanced back. “It is about time you arose from your slumber Azrael. I was beginning to grow tired of waiting.”

Azrael emerged from the darkest corner of the closet. “Don’t lie. You weren’t waiting.” He glided forward with the same effortless power Lenore had shown.