LAND OF DOLLS

by Unknown Author

Originally appeared in Beyond Comics issue #10 in 1952

I had been trying for days to get my writers to come up with an excellent weird fantasy story. Still, somehow everything they turned out seemed to be only repeated on themes we had used before, and I, the Editor, had rejected one tale after another. When Mr. Mason, my publisher, asked me if the issue was ready for the press, I had to admit that I still lacked one story for the magazine.

That is when the Boss gave me that fateful order: "You'd better get that story by tomorrow morning, even if you have to write it yourself!"

So there I was at my desk; it was nearly midnight, and I had not been able to pound out a good mystery story on my typewriter. I had smoked through a pack of cigarettes; the office was enveloped in a cloud of smoke; half-typed pages were strewn about the floor with half-developed themes on them. But still, my mind had not been able to concoct a superior mystery tale that would be suitable for the latest issue.

I got up from my chair and stretched. I reached for another cigarette, then realized that I had already smoked my last one. I reached for my jacket, deciding to go out on the street for a few minutes, not only to buy cigarettes but to pep myself up with a cup of hot coffee and some fresh air.

I stood at the elevator and pushed the button. The dial on the wall lit up little numbers ...10...15...20...as the night elevator operator brought the cage up to get me. I wondered what he would look like. I had never remained at work this late before, so I had never seen the night operator.

At last, it arrived. The doors slid open, and I stepped into the elevator. The man at the controls closed the doors without a word, and the cage began to descend to the ground floor. As I leaned against the elevator's back wall, I glanced at the back of the elevator operator's head. He was completely bald, and his hairless skull had a peculiar shine to it. He stood there very stiffly without muttering a word. An involuntary chill spread up my spine. Something about that figure in the opposite corner brought a feeling of foreboding to my brain.

The elevator was going down...and suddenly I realized that the elevator was picking up speed and plunging ever faster...faster downward! I moved toward the operator.

"What's happening?" I cried out. "Have you lost control of the machine? Why don't you answer me?"

I grabbed the figure by the arm and turned him around to face me. The blood drained from my head! For I was looking not at the face of a mortal man but of a life-sized doll! Painted eyes glared at me from those sockets! A diabolic grin played on the features of this creature! No wonder his bald head had such a shine on it...this was the head of a clay doll, not a human being!

I still could not believe that this was happening to me. "Talk to me!" I shouted. "You can't be a doll ... you must be human...say something!"

But the figure was speechless, and the horrible grin on its face did not change. In a frenzy, I began to slap him with both hands. And then an awful thing happened! His clay cheeks began to crack and then fell in pieces to the floor! All that remained was a tangle of thin wires and straw!

And still, the elevator kept going downward...down into the basement of the building, through the foundation, and into the bowels of the earth. Then, there was a frightening crash, and I lost consciousness!

...Great swirls of light were circling my brain. I fought to regain my senses. I felt myself plunging through a maze of mist, trying to reach the strange bluish light somewhere in the distance. Suddenly my brain cleared...and I opened my eyes, I was lying on a grassy plot of ground...and stretched for miles around were strange trees, bushes, odd plants and flowers...and tiny queer houses! Where was I! Was this all a dream? But yet everything seemed to be real...I was lying there and looking at this strange world about me!

Then it happened! I could distinguish small figures emerging from these strange tiny houses and start toward me. As they drew closer, imagine my extreme amazement to find myself gazing at a group of lifelike dolls! Yes, there was no mistaking that these tiny creatures now approaching me were dolls of various shapes and forms and wearing a variety of clothing. There was the doll in a king's costume and another a ballet dancer. There was a witch doll and another dad in a devil's costume!

And then I noticed something else! Each of the dolls had something wrong with it. By that, I mean one had an arm missing...another had lost an eye...another was without ahead at all, and sawdust crept forth from the opened neck area!

At last, the dolls had reached the point where I was standing, and slowly they surrounded me. The doll figure that was dad as a king raised a scepter it was carrying and spoke. "We have searched for you a long time, master doll-maker! You have been brought to the land of ravaged dolls for one purpose...to repair us so that we can return to the land of mortals and be cherished by some kind child again!"

Land of ravaged dolls? I thought to myself! Well, at any rate, that explained the nature of this strange place and why these creatures were in such terrible condition. The king-doll went on:

"Yes, we once lived among mortals...we were loved. But in time, we lost our heads, or an arm or leg, or an eye. Then we were thrown away into the trash heap! This is where damaged dolls go when they are no longer loved and are discarded. So, 0%, doll-maker, must repair us and take us back to your world!"

There was one thing I was sure of...these dolls had mistaken my identity for someone else. And then I remembered the older man who had recently rented an office on our floor in the skyscraper. "Hugo Rejek...doll maker. All kinds of repairs" was what the sign had said on his door.

Quickly, I told the king-doll that his messenger, the elevator doll, had brought the wrong man to their land. At this, the king was enraged!

"That fool!" he cried. "Now we must send someone else to get the master doll-maker to come here! As for you, you must die, for you know our secret!"

The situation was taking a wrong turn. I had to do some fast thinking and talking! "Listen," I said at last, "I sympathize with you folks, and I think I can help you. After all, wouldn't it be better for you all if you had a mortal man like myself plead your problem with the doll-maker and convince him to fix you all up like new? I'd be happy to serve as your intermediary!"

The king-doll pondered this for a brief moment and then said, I believe you are right! Perhaps you, as a mortal, can more easily persuade the master that our request is a reasonable one! Come! We shall go to his workshop at once!"

So we all headed toward a cave. One by one, we entered, and I beheld the elevator on which I had made this macabre journey. At last, we were all crowded in. I moved the handle, and the cage began to rise. At first, it went up slowly. But gradually, it took on more speed...then suddenly, it began to ascend so rapidly that I could not keep my head clear. Seconds later, I lost consciousness!

I opened my eyes and found myself at my desk in the office. Scattered over the floor were typewritten pages, on which I had written a mystery tale. I picked up the first page and read the title: "Land of Dolls". So that was it! I had written this strange story during the night hours and then fell into an exhausted sleep at my desk! And the experience I thought I had gone through was merely a dream version of the story I had just finished writing!

I left the office and headed for the elevators. I just had to get some coffee. And then I saw the door of the new tenant. This was the workshop of the doll-maker. I decided to pay him a visit and tell him the peculiar dream. He might get some laughs out of it, I thought.

I knocked at his door, and someone said to come in. "This guy gets to work early in the morning!" I said to myself. I entered the office-workshop of Hugo Rejek and stopped dead in my tracks! My eyes just couldn't be playing tricks on me, could they?

For there on the shelves above the workbench were a group of damaged dolls which were about to be repaired...a king-doll, a ballet dancer, a witch doll, a devil doll...all those creatures I had encountered in my experience!

So perhaps it wasn't a dream after all? But where did the finished manuscript come from if it had been a real adventure? Had I brought my little dolls to the workshop during the night and then gone into my office, written my story, and then dozed off?

It was all too incredible and inexplicable for me to wrack my brains over!

The old doll-maker turned to me with a smile and asked: "Can I do something for you? Repair a doll, perhaps?"

"Nah—no, thanks! I just came in the wrong door...I mah—meant to go into the publishing office down the hall. Good day, sir!"

I got out of there fast and buzzed for the elevator. I just couldn't come up with a logical explanation for that night's experience. But at least I had my story for the latest issue of our mystery magazine.

All I wanted now was a cup of black coffee...no, two cups!

END