The doll glared at me from across the room. I hadn’t believed the old woman could construct life within a doll’s body, void of pulse, but there it was, a soldier waiting for its command.
The voodoo queen had warned me about the birthing process. It was dangerous and couldn’t be reversed. I didn’t have the same belief in her powers as the folk who lived on the islands. The legends ran deep, etched into the minds of the old, twisted by time, but then I saw the dull glow of its eyes shining on me, awakening for the first time.
Willful and demanding, like a baby’s first breath, it came into the world, gasping for air, wanting to live, needing to take life in order to save its own. Virgin lungs filled and wailed their hatred of the world. It yearned for destruction and the…
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