Mr. Doo

"And so, you've come here tonight, my child, to confess this… fear?" The archbishop's voice was soft, his tone layered with both compassion and curiosity, as though he couldn't quite grasp the weight of what was eating away at me.

I looked down, my hands trembling against the wooden bench. I wanted to tell him it was more than fear, that it was like a stain, this darkness, creeping into every corner of my mind. "It's not just fear, Father," I whispered. "It's… like something's waiting for me, lurking just beyond, and now I can feel it again. It's watching."

The archbishop leaned forward, his fingers interlaced, his eyes piercing through the dim light of the confessional. "Do you believe this Mr. Doo—this figure from your childhood—has returned for you in some way?" he asked, his voice so calm it almost made me feel childish, as though I were recalling a nightmare to a stranger who couldn't see its true horror.

"I don't know, Father… I don't know," I stammered, my voice cracking. "I told myself it was just a puppet. A toy. I told myself that so many times. But the things it did... And tonight, when I saw it outside my window, smiling that same smile… I felt that same coldness, the same dread."

The archbishop sighed, a look of concern crossing his face. "The mind is powerful, my child. It remembers our fears, our wounds, and sometimes, it can summon shadows of them to test our spirit. But remember," he paused, leaning slightly closer, "evil often preys on the weakest part of our faith, the smallest doubt. And sometimes, it's nothing more than the residue of our own fears, lingering like dust."

"But it felt real, Father. It spoke to me. Just like when I was a child." I tried to make him see, to make him understand that this wasn't some fleeting hallucination. I took a deep breath and described the memory that haunted me—the night I'd woken up to find Mr. Doo lying beside me, whispering promises in a voice that only I could hear.

The archbishop crossed himself, his face turning grave. "It spoke, you say?" He hesitated, then added quietly, "Such things have been known to possess voices, dark influences latching onto objects and whispering their vile temptations. But to come back after so long, that is unusual."

He lowered his gaze for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Finally, he spoke, his tone almost a warning. "My child, sometimes the objects we keep become vessels. If your mind truly felt this presence, you must pray for strength and peace, for it is within that peace that these spirits lose their power."

I clenched my fists, frustration mixing with my fear. "But what if it's more than that, Father? What if it really is here to… take me?" The words felt absurd, but I couldn't stop myself from saying them, from sharing my deepest terror.

The archbishop looked at me with a hardened resolve. "Then you must remember that fear is its weapon. The devil's greatest strength lies not in his power, but in our own doubts and insecurities. Stand firm in your faith, for it will protect you. Let go of the memories that have kept this figure alive within you. Release it from your mind and pray for God's mercy."

His words felt strong, comforting, but deep down, I could still feel that pull, that gnawing fear. "Can you… can you bless my home, Father? Just in case?"

The archbishop smiled gently, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Of course, my child. I will come tomorrow. But tonight, I want you to go home, light a candle, and recite the Lord's Prayer. Focus on the light, the warmth, and let it wash away all darkness. Remember, evil cannot dwell where there is faith."

As I rose to leave, his final words echoed in my mind. "And remember, no matter what you see or hear, it holds no power over you—unless you give it that power."

But even as I walked out into the cold night, I couldn't shake the feeling that Mr. Doo's grin was still waiting for me, lurking in the shadows just beyond my sight, ready to break the silence the moment I returned.

When I returned home, I did exactly as the archbishop had instructed. I lit a candle, its flickering glow casting soft shadows across the room. I clasped my hands and began to recite the Lord's Prayer, my voice trembling as I tried to fill the quiet with the warmth of faith.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven…" I whispered, my gaze fixed on the candle's flame, willing it to protect me.

The wind outside rattled the window, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in the glass—a hint of movement, a shifting shadow. I shut my eyes tight, focusing harder on the prayer.

"Deliver us from evil…"

Then, a sound—a soft, scratching noise, barely audible but growing louder by the second. My eyes shot open, and there it was, that familiar grin, stretching wide across the pale wooden face. Mr. Doo's beady glass eyes stared back at me from the window, glinting in the candlelight. But this time, he wasn't outside. He was inside, just inches away from me.

"Did you really think a few words could keep me away?" a voice whispered, low and raspy, yet somehow mocking, echoing from within the hollow chamber of his wooden body. His mouth didn't move, yet the words slithered through the air, chilling me to the bone.

I tried to back away, but I couldn't move. It was as though his gaze held me, freezing me in place, pinning me beneath the weight of his presence. "You… you're not real," I managed to stammer, my voice barely a whisper.

"Oh, I'm very real," he sneered, his grin stretching wider, impossibly wide, his eyes narrowing with sinister delight. "I was always real, even when you tried to forget me. Did you think you could just abandon me? That I wouldn't return?"

My mind was a haze of terror and disbelief, memories flooding back, each one tinged with the creeping dread I'd felt as a child. "What… what do you want?" I forced myself to ask, my voice barely audible.

He tilted his head, the wood creaking as his face drew nearer. "I want what was promised to me. What you tried to keep from me." His voice was a venomous whisper, winding through my thoughts like a snake.

"I… I didn't promise you anything!" I cried, panic rising as I tried to recall any moment that could have bound me to this thing.

"Oh, but you did," he whispered, the words sliding from him like poison. "When you let me stay, when you clung to me, even as you feared me… that was enough. You kept me close. You fed me your fear, your nightmares, your darkest thoughts. I grew stronger, until I became what I am now. And now…" He paused, letting the silence thicken, his grin widening into something far more sinister. "… I've come to claim what is mine."

The air grew colder, and I felt a strange pressure pressing down on my chest, as though something was squeezing the life out of me. My breaths came shallow, my heart pounding painfully in my ears. "No… no, please…" I whimpered, feeling helpless, trapped under his gaze.

He chuckled, a sound like dry wood snapping in a fire. "Begging won't help you, child. You're mine, and you always have been."

The candle's flame flickered, sputtering as though it, too, could sense the darkness growing thicker around us. The shadows deepened, swallowing the room, until only his face was visible, his eyes glinting like embers in the dark.

"Tonight," he hissed, leaning closer, his voice now like a thousand whispers in my mind, "I will claim your soul."

The words slithered over me, each one sinking deeper, searing itself into my mind like an irreversible curse. I felt a pull, as though something within me was being ripped away, drawn toward that grinning, malevolent face.

"No!" I cried, summoning every ounce of strength, every fragment of faith I had left. "In the name of God, leave me!"

For a moment, the room fell silent. The shadows around him wavered, and his grin faltered. His eyes narrowed, and I saw a flash of rage—a deep, seething fury that boiled just beneath his wooden surface.

But then, just as quickly, he regained his composure, that eerie smile creeping back onto his face. "God cannot help you now," he sneered, his voice a taunting whisper. "You belong to me, just as I always knew you would."

The candle went out, plunging the room into darkness, and I felt his icy presence press closer, his laughter echoing through the blackness as I felt myself slipping away, piece by piece, drawn into the unending abyss of his gaze.

As the final threads of consciousness faded, I heard his voice one last time, soft and triumphant:

"Welcome home."