Have you ever thought that doll on the dresser moved? Have you ever talked to a doll and felt they were listening? Dolls have always been the subject of traditions, fictions and other human enterprises in all cultures. I dare to say every person has a story to tell about a doll; I have personal anecdotes myself, but today I want to tell you about one which happened to my cousin.

Esther

“A doll is always intriguing because it is a life without a soul,” our English teacher used to say. We were adolescents when we started studying together. My aunt and uncle died in a car accident, and soon the family agreed Jane (and Esther) would come to live with us.

Even If you are not a lover of the genre, I’ll bet you have seen lots of movies or read stories about a doll which is avessel to keep a human soul. But these fictions, they fail to tell you the most terrifying aspects involved in it. You have to experience it yourself in order to know how that really is. It is not a nightmare; you wake up from those. You never come back from the heathen place these wicked creatures take you. Accursed and bewildered for life, knowing you cannot escape the horror even by killing yourself.

What is so terrifying about a living doll? And yet there are people who want to look like one.

My cousin Jane wanted to look like this doll she had when she was little. Nobody could tell who had given her this doll—not even my aunt and uncle when they were still alive—, but everyone was positive it had been a birthday present. Jane learned its, HER, name was Esther because it was written inside her bonnet, and they became best friends immediately. On Jane’s request, my Aunt had their clothes made to look the same by the local seamstress. Jane introduced Esther to every person she got to know as her twin sister. She continued to do this in high school; so yes, I guess she was weirder than I dared to admit, for I loved her and, to some extent, I had gotten used to her oddities.

Everything started on Jane’s fourth birthday. We were all in the garden; aunt María had put up all kinds of amazing decorations; there was a magic show, a couple of actually fun clowns, and lots of games to play. There was a huge basket next to the entrance: “Gifts,” read the sign in pink letters, adorned with flowers and butterflies. And there she was: Esther, a ragged doll with a porcelain face.

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