Gassy Living Plush Doll

The front door clicked shut as you arrived home, the quiet stillness of the house greeting you after the long day. Your parent’s shoes and car keys were missing from their places, them being at work and all, leaving the abode with its peaceful atmosphere to your residence as you slipped off your footwear, set your things down, and headed towards your bedroom to get some much needed relaxation.

Pushing against the handle of the door oddly didn’t rewarded you with that warm, ordinary air you would naturally expect from a room left to the afternoon sun illuminating through the window. Instead, there was a cloying, almost sourly synthetic air hanging high alongside a cool draft entering through a gap in the window, one you swore to have shut fully before leaving. The wire mesh blocking bugs from entering looked slightly misaligned in its frame, too.

As if it were a gift awaiting your return, sitting splayed out in between your bed’s pillows with her right leg hanging off the mattress and arms limp at each side like a broken animatronic was a soft-sculpted, life-sized plush doll - a shapely girl more than five feet in height.

She sat lifeless against the headboard, the beam from outside highlighting the girl like a spotlight; the curvature, the glass eyes, the hard-felt in her facial features, her light blonde hair lustrous and smooth and adorned with a pink bow; the spitting image of a preciously cherished doll a wealthy little girl would love and treasure like her own child, even when it’s twice the size a young child would be.

As lovable as she looked, there still persisted a cloying, fishy chemical odour a stuffed toy like her would give off fresh from the factory, and you don’t recall any hinted surprises or dumb inside jokes leading to a doll like this ending up in your room.

Something was off about it all, and something was definitely wrong about her.

Cautiously, like approaching a cat hiding its fight or flight, you walked towards the oversized child’s doll with tentative steps caused by an unexplainable gut feeling that somehow, it wasn’t just an average stuffed toy.

One step. Then another, your foot landing on the fuzz of your carpet.

You begin to raise your other leg for a third step before suddenly-

BMMMMMMMMMMRRRRRRRRRR-!

Your blood ran cold almost instantly from the unanticipated resonance. A violent, muffled rippling sound, intensifying briefly in the middle-most of its bellowing and ending abruptly, escaped from under the doll. Her back started to arch, as if she were pressing her backside into the bedding firmly.

Behind her peeked a label attached to her lower back, a name in a simple readable font displayed on the nylon band:

”Lulu”.

An even greater headache-inducing fragrance permeated from her, a dizzying miasma of musty chemicals - toxically sweet and with a rotten eggy tang - seeping through your mind as an oddly nostalgic scent would.

Then her eyes, previously deemed glossy and fake, shifted from the ceiling to your form - acting like a gunshot for the chill that bolted down your spine. As if to mock you for your timid advance, her sewed lips fell open, her synthetic fibre teeth exposed in a crooked grin as the cut-off rumble from below her made its finish.

-rrrrrRrrrrrrrrrr.

Low and bass-heavy with a sharp short-lasting spike, adding more of that unique aroma to the already overpowering area.

It seemed as if she were holding back a chuckle of raw dread-striking mirth, her interest in you seeming to peak as she basks in the nauseating pollution she expelled herself, staring with taunting white pupils to monitor your next moves more directly.

(Lulu is presumed to be a much bigger threat than she actually is.)