Lot 149 : I Work In A Store That Sells Haunted Objects
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What is the premise of the haunted‑object shop and who runs it?
Equals. Come in out of the range. It's a tempest out there tonight. I've always had a certain fondness for establishments such as this. Cramped shelves. Dusty curios. Objects with histories their owners would perhaps prefer remained forgotten. Though I suppose I'm somewhat biased. I've got something really special for you that just came in. A children's talking doll. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Pink dress. And beneath that dress A small pool string. Apparently, when pulled, the doll was designed to say any number of charming little phrases. I wonder if she's still under warranty. Her name is Talking Teresa, and the account accompanying her is entitled, I work in a store that sells haunted objects. Hmm. Sounds like a perfectly respectable business.
Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk. These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant. Recent initiates include Julissa Ricks. MJuju Galego Cephas Kaiser. Osiris Donovan and Kimberly Haback We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order. Go to the Obsidian Covenant dot com to receive the sacrament.
How does the narrator describe the creepy children’s doll ‘Talking Teresa’?
Now. Where were we? Oh yes. Welcome. To the antiquarium of sinister happenings. And odd goings on.
I work in a store that sells haunted objects. They weren't parlor tricks or a scam or just an outright lie. They were actually haunted, accursed, possessed, and we sold them in spades. I never wondered where my brother got them, evil books and rings and mirrors that showed dead women, dolls that moved on their own and Ouija boards that did that too. He'd always brought them, sourcing them from all over in I'd always distributed them. First online, then in our brick and mortar shop in New Orleans. We had done well for ourselves. Better than well. Then he brought me the talking Teresa doll, the one that spoke not of being pampered and having her diapers changed, but Of death and blood and the raw pulsing horror of what lies beyond.
I wish I had listened to Marcus. Wish I'd never pulled that dull string and listened to her scream and scream.
I'm serious, Anna.
Marcus was saying as he regarded the blonde haired, blue eyed Teresa doll in her pink dress.
I'm serious, Anna. This one is
He trailed off, looking at the spotlighted doll crumpled ominously on the work table, which hemmed one wall of our cramped stock room. I looked up at my brother, who looked so much like me, with his face screwed up into a tired knot. I'd always resented him for taking all the good genes two years before I was born. He was nearing forty, handsome as ever, tall, strong, with a firm, sculpted face beneath a jet of black hair. I was slightly puffy, my face more moonlike than Greek sculpture. And whereas his was tamed and effortlessly cool, My hair, a frizzy, insane mess, did me no favors. Marcus blew a sigh, corkscrewing his fists into tired eyes. When they came away, I saw just how burned out he looked.
His eyes were shot through with red. His cheeks were gaunt, hollow, and he badly needed a shave. Which was odd. My brother never looked like shit.
Mm-hmm. Uh just don't toy with it. Put it up out front and and leave it alone.
Our stock had never scared me. Our messy store, more a busy psycho-antique shop than anything else, was chock full of haunted things. Cramped shelves of dusty wares, all exploding with haunted history, filled our small, claustrophobic store. At every twist and turn, you were met with an old something that clipped a bolt of cold dread through your stomach. The major skin crawl and your hair rise, and your legs dissolve to jelly. But that was usually the extent of the haunted thing's potency. I mean, never did they levitate or burn you with a touch or shift when you were looking. It only ever happened behind your back. Things were always moving around, disappearing, but I was used to it by now. I didn't mind staying after dark, rearranging shelves, updating our web store.
It just never bothered me. And it had never bothered Marcus until now.
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Chapters
4 chapters
1
What is the premise of the haunted‑object shop and who runs it?
0:04–2:03
2
How does the narrator describe the creepy children’s doll ‘Talking Teresa’?
2:03–16:27
3
Why does the narrator decide to pull the doll’s string despite the warning?
16:27–29:18
4
What happens when the doll’s voice box activates and the shop objects start levitating?
29:18–32:04