Dear Reader,
This is a Literotica 2021 Halloween Story Contest submission. I really hope you enjoy this and would appreciate your votes and comments! Please vote.
The following is a NON SEXUAL, very short (just over 3000 words) HALLOWEEN story with NON HUMAN elements.
This was written as a Spooky Campfire Story. I hope it is enjoyed by those who like this kind of thing.
Happy Halloween, grab a couple treats while you read!
-E
……
The Dollhouse
Ontario, Canada
October 1976
The leaves had been dropping quickly, those last few days of October. High winds and heavy rain made for barren branches, etched across the landscape. First frost had already come, and now on this night, a stirring of 100 years, in the making. Halloween night, breath clung to the air, white clouds suspending over each whisper. Snow would come soon, it was just above freezing.
It had been a quiet evening up until then, it was a smaller community with farm land on the edge of town. Someone had brought in a tray of cupcakes and a huge bowl of Halloween candy.
The call had come in just after 9 pm, there had been word of mischief on the old property on the outskirts of town. With this kind of rain, it was doubtful that it was Trick O’ Treaters. With a breathy sigh, Sgt. Dawson stood up from his desk, standing at 6’4. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, pulling on his black trench coat he grabbed a coffee and a handful of molasses toffee chews, shoving them into his pocket. He and his partner, Officer McNeil had the honour of taking the first call of the night.
Rain and sleet was pouring down upon them, the moment they stepped outside. They were drenched with sopping wet boots sponging up the mud and wet. Running towards the police car, Dawson and McNeil rushed inside, slamming the doors shut behind them.
“Well, this should be fun…” Sgt. Dawson complained while settling in and sipping his coffee.
McNeil started the cruiser and drove slowly towards the main road. The weather was horrible, almost zero visibility. The windshield wipers swiping quickly back and forth with such force, they could hardly see up ahead of themselves.
It was a small quaint town, pretty front gardens, white picket fences. Old-fashioned and timeless, like time stood still. Old Studebaker’s lined the streets, it was like a postcard image of a sleepy little tourist town.
The drive wasn’t long, the rain continued to pound down on them. Etched black trunks and branches against that cold October sky. Sgt. Dawson shivered slightly, he remembered being a boy and the old mansion scared him shitless.
“Fuck, I hate this place.” he whispered under his breath.
As a boy, he and his brothers had snuck around on a dare. He was never sure what he saw that one night. Just that it had scared him enough to piss his pants. He had never gone back there since that night and vowed never to return, yet here he was.
Flashlights up he and McNeil began to wander the grounds, eyes scanning, the mansion and the Asylum in the distance. Sgt. Dawson retold the story as they walked about the grounds.
“McNeil, there is this messed up story about this whole damn place!” Sgt. Dawson began.
“It was said to be exactly 100 years ago tonight, Halloween in 1876, right here, this very place. This couple from Europe had come, Edna and Edward Watson. They were loaded with money and bought this whole property, all the way up and down the bend in the river, and to the county line. Some say it was more than 10,000 acres. The Watsons had built the mansion from the ground up. It was the same year the Asylum was built and opened, Edward was the Head Doctor there, all funded by the Watson couple.”
Sgt. Dawson stopped to unwrap and pop a molasses candy between his teeth before he continued. The sweet tang coating his tongue as he slowly chewed. Scanning the wooded area, he and Officer McNeil cautiously checked through the brush. The rain was settling down and Sgt. Dawson continued his story.
“They originally named it, The Essex County Asylum for Women. The Doctor had interesting ideas, some would say criminal in practice. There was a seperate wing for unwed mothers, women suffering from hysteria from menstruation and other feminine illnesses.”
McNeil felt a shiver from a pocket of cold air hitting the back of his neck as he listened to Sgt. Dawson. Buttoning the top of his jacket, it pressed against his Adam’s apple. Silently, listening as he scanned his flashlight over the hill as they walked closer to the mansion.
Sgt. Dawson cleared his throat as he continued…
“It was so fucked up, they drugged and forced these young woman into these horrific situations, stolen babies, selling the them on the black market, then as the mothers complained, the women began to go missing.”
“No wonder you were freaked the fuck out! Can we get out of here already?!” McNeil questioned as he pulled at the collar of his trench coat, unable to shake the unbearable chill.
“You know it’s rumoured that their souls still haunt this place.” Dawson added with a chuckle watching McNeil’s face drain of colour.
Teasing Officer McNeil about the site, gave Sgt. Dawson a little courage, burning off his own fear in a laugh. The cold air swirlled around them, rustling the leaves about. Their boots sloshing through the mud as they approached the old mansion. The grounds filled with overgrown trees and shrubs.
If only the rumours were where things ended, there were absolute truths of unspeakable crimes against women. It was the sheer magnitude of the crimes committed by the Watsons that was the most shocking of all.
……
London, England
1868-1874
Edna Watson was a tall woman, 5′ 9″ to be exact, feminine enough but quite severe in her looks. Strong features and painfully thin, she resented how much more attention “the pretty ones” received over her. The oldest of 5 daughters, she was often overlooked by her parents. Edna immersed herself into her studies and her collection of China Dolls at a young age. Her resentment only grew as the years passed, another rejection, another doll.
At 25 her parents both died in a tragic fire over the Christmas holiday. With no will, Edna appointed herself the executor and had the final laugh on her sisters and parents. She was smart and cunning, taking the entire inheritance for herself.
Within months, she had met Edward Watson, a very prominent and successful doctor, who also lived in London. They had met one morning, both rushing to attend a political debate. Edward was tall 6′ 2″ and quite handsome with dark eyes and hair. It was Edna’s intelligence that caught his eye, she was a smart, quick thinker, who could out talk any man, if given the chance. She was scientific and quite frankly he thought she was a genius. He’d never met anyone smarter than him, but Edna was brilliant.
Edward Watson had immersed himself into his studies his whole life. Putting career over family, Edward found success early on in his career with his dedicated spirit. By the age of 35 he had a strong practice, working out of his own private office as well as hospitals throughout London.
Watson was also from money, it was not long before they were courting and then married, with hopes of starting a family.
Edna was completely distraught when they discovered that she could not bare children. Her body was barren, it absolutely crushed her heart and soul.
Edward felt terrible for Edna, watching the pain on her face as she tried every concoction out there to make her fertile. The spiral downward seemed to happen quickly for Edna. Dabbling in the dark arts, witchcraft and other ideals. How to make a barren womb a home. Edward wanted it as much as she did, but after years of trying, they decided that it was time to start over.
London had her sisters with swollen bellies and ever growing families. A painful, constant reminder of Edna’s curse. Edna had grown sullen and angrier towards her family. All she had now was her Edward and her dolls. Desperate, Edna would often experiment at home, drinking mixtures of animal blood and pig fat, oils and herbal treatments in teas. Either ingesting or rubbing them all over her abdomen.
London also had a couple of malpractice suits against Edward, having given a half dozen women tubal ligations without their consent. Paying the women off with a handsome amount of money each, the Watsons left London and arrived in Canada by ship. A fresh start, was what they both wanted and needed.
……
Quebec City, Canada
September 1874
Life in Canada, was quiet and slower. They found a property within weeks of setting foot on Canadian soil. Leaving Quebec city after only a month, the Watson’s made their way in late autumn, to a smaller community in Ontario, a little over two hundred miles outside of Toronto.
……
Essex County, Ontario
October 1st, 1875
On a cool sunny day on October 1st, 1875, Edna and Edward Watson opened the doors of The Essex County Asylum for Women. Rooms were already called for as patients were shipped in from Toronto, Quebec City, Montreal and as far away as Prince Edward Island.
There was much press about this exciting new establishment, helping those in need. At first it was morning tea and rehabilitating. It felt like a sanctuary with beautiful gardens to walk along and therapeutic, aromatherapy and breathing rooms. Places to mend.
But near the end of that first month, things took a dark turn as Edna struggled with the first of the pregnancies. Woman who came to stay, nowhere to go with swollen stomachs and no money. The first few were easy enough to manipulate, sign over for a healthy birth and recovery period. The first few felt reasonable, innocent enough.
But Edna and Edward became hungry for more. They opened a whole wing to the centre dedicated to un-wed mothers. Dozens of young women flocked to come and stay with the Watsons. Edna felt that pain coming upon her once again, she began her witchcraft again, opening the door for dark arts and more.
Young women were drugged with Edna’s herbal concoctions and coerced into signing for consent, to give up their newborn babies and their reproductive organs.
Some women were in labor and others were under anesthesia at the time of providing consent. Women as young as 18 had their reproductive systems completely removed. Waking in extreme pain with a huge scar, navel to pubic bone. Their organs sold on the black market to the highest bidder.
Edna and Edward validated such Acts as a means for payment for taking care of these women. After all they could not care for themselves nor could they pay to stay at the asylum. They had to get the money somewhere, as the Watson’s saw it…it was the least these woman could do.
Horrific acts, sterilization of women aged 18 to 45, severe experiments were conducted on them, they were vaccinated like guinea pigs given 100 times the dosage. Electric voltage for menstruation, headaches to zap out the female hysteria. Pills and sedatives, potions and elixers.
Recovery at the hospital, and sometimes at the mansion where Edna Watson would oversee the women first hand. She called them her Little Dolls, pretty hair and eyes. Mrs. Watson had the women dress neatly and hair always immaculate. They would help her keep house and each lady would care for a fine Porcelain Doll made to look just like themselves. A pretty replica of each an every one of them.
“Just so we will never forget, just how beautiful and precious you all are.”
Mrs. Watson would whisper in their ears as she brushed each recovering young woman’s hair. Long slow sweeps of the large silver paddle brush, softly running through the long hair down their backs.
The woman, sitting in shock, as Mrs. Watson rocked them back and forth, singing to them, soothing them into compliance.
Many of the young women could not bare the thought at what had been taken from them. The strong religious ceremony followed by penance. The Watson’s were obsessed, young ladies shall be respectable, un-wed sexual relations was a sin. The punishments were forms of torture.
Many of these tormented women would try and runaway with their babies, only to be hunted and dragged back to the asylum. Then put under stricter rules, chained to their beds, no day light. Starved and forced sleep deprivation. Sounds of screaming babies filling the cell as punishment, the cries would go on for days non-stop.
Others would climb to the roof of the mansion or the neighbouring Asylum and jump to their deaths. To them a far better fate than living with the reality of what they had succumbed to.
Or they would hang themselves in the bell tower of the small church attached to the Asylum. Making themselves a symbol for others, a warning of what not to become.
Word spread about the Asylum quickly, crazy women were entering and better more relaxed women were exiting the Essex County Asylum for Women. And then it began, hundreds of husbands every year driving into Essex with their wives. Those big fancy Studebaker’s lining the streets of town, husband’s dropping off their wives to be “FIXED.”
Missing Mothers, Elderly women vanished completely. The town of Essex was soon filled with men and very compliant young women. Over the years, the Doctor and his wife assisted in two thousand deaths. Sterilizing and maiming over eight thousand women.
……
October 31st, 1975
Essex County, Ontario
Sgt. Dawson was now on the front porch, it was then he noticed the door was opened. Popping a molasses candy in his mouth, sweet warm breath escaped his slow chew. Pushing the door open with his flashlight, he stepped inside, it smelt musky and old, like rot.
“McNeil get in here!” He called out to his partner as he made his way past the great hall and spiral staircase.
McNeil slowly behind, eyes wide, catching his own image in an ornate mirror. McNeil almost shit his pants, a loud gasp followed with a quiet “Fuck sakes.” Muttered beneath his breath.
McNeil was new to the Police force, at just 24 years old, he had only been there for 6 months. A short muscular frame, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes he was living his dream. He had always wanted to be a police officer for as long as he could remember. Both he and Sgt. Dawson felt that way, loved the job, well with the exception of tonight.
Dawson up ahead, reached for the parlor door, it opened on its own as the front door snapped shut. The howling wind making it sound like whispers in the hall, caught behind closed doors. Sgt. Dawson almost certain he heard the wind hiss…
“Sss…save us…sss.”
“Jesus Christ! McNeil, get up here, now!” Sgt. Dawson snapped, eyes scanning the parlor, taken aback by the sight before him.
The room was filled, floor to ceiling with pale glass dolls. Fractured skulls and eyes that stared into your soul. The Sgt. gasped as he stepped carefully over creaky floor boards and the sound of breaking glass.
His heartbeat elevated, what was this? Reaching out to lift one of the dolls, the porcelain shattered in his hand.
Crumbling tiny pieces of ground bones and tiny skeleton peices poured out over his hand and boots. The eyes that stared back at him looked eerily that of human eyes, and mouths filled with human teeth.
“McNeil! Are you seeing this?! Call for back up…now!”
That is when the eyes of the doll shifted, head held in his palm. Sgt. Dawson let out a loud shriek as he fired the doll’s head across the room.
Mrs. Watson was a Doll Collector, she had ground the bones of each patient. Filling each doll with their ashes and ground bones. She had kept their teeth and eyes and placed them within each doll she had given to each of the young women.
Their beautiful long hair sewn into each porcelain dolls scalp.
Sgt. Dawson tasted the remnants of the sweet molasses candy in the back of his mouth turn to bile.
Grabbing his gun at the sound of Officer McNeil screaming off in the distance in the dark of night.
Sgt. Dawson ran for the door as it slammed shut. Literally thousands of eyes fell upon Sgt. Dawson, these dolls inside the walls began to blink, shifting and moving slowly towards him. The dolls began to laugh hysterically as they narrowed in on him, teeth snapping at his ankles, wrists and face, biting into his flesh.
Sgt. Dawson screamed loudly as he fired his gun off at the dolls, they kept narrowing in on him.
“Save us…” they whispered in unison.
“Save us…”
Sgt. Dawson flung his arms about trying to rid them from his body. Smashing the window out with his elbow, Sgt. Dawson through his body outside and landed roughly on the ground. Eyes wild he searched for Officer McNeil as he called for back-up.
Within twenty minutes 20 Police Cruisers and 3 Forensic Teams were on the grounds of the Mansion. Sgt. Dawson was being treated for cuts and a few dozen bites, stiches to his brow and lip.
Determined to find Officer McNeil, Sgt. Dawson continued to search. Finding a tunnel from the Mansion, running up towards the Asylum. He left his superiors to deal with the Dollhouse as he built a team to search the Asylum. Dawson and the team wandered the bowels of the Asylum, searching the secret tunnels below.
Underground it was cold and wet, a series of maze like tunnels running under the Asylum. It had been more than an hour since he last saw Officer McNeil. The smell inside the tunnels was of rotted flesh and fecal matter. Sgt. Dawson dry heaved as he continued his search.
As he grew closer a whimpering sound filled the chamber. Screams from the back of the tunnel followed with gun shots. Sgt. Dawson ran ahead and turned swiftly and met the familiar eyes of Officer McNeil inside of the eye sockets of a small hairless doll. In the background lay Officer McNeil shackled to a bed, both eyes carved out, and his mouth mangled up.
Sgt. Dawson looked back at the doll which was now smiling with McNeil’s blood stained teeth in its mouth! Dawson wanted to drain his gun into that little doll, but McNeil’s eyes were staring back at him. The team caught up and rushed McNeil to the hospital along with his eyes and teeth extracted from the doll.
It took months for the forensic team to label and account each and every doll to every missing woman.
Two things were certain to Sgt. Dawson, the fact that he would never eat another molasses toffee chew again, for as long as he lived. And that the Watson’s had never left the Essex County Asylum for Women. Edna and Edward’s presence was never more prominent. As soon as you walked on the grounds you knew you were being watched.
……
October 31st, 1976
Essex County, Ontario
Sgt. Dawson got a call that morning, an heir had come forward for the property that the Asylum and mansion stood on.
Later that night Sgt. Dawson picked up Officer McNeil from his home, still recovering from the trama. Two pickup trucks filled with containers of gasoline they headed to the Essex County Asylum for Women one last time.
Taking their time to torch the place. The two men sat back and watched it all burn to the ground. Officer McNeil shivered, that familiar feeling. Edna and Edward were still there, watching them.