Down Porcelain Road

"Got a 10-15 on Porcelain Road. Neighbor says they heard a child's scream coming from inside the Taurus family house."

The coffee I was sipping suddenly turned on me, venturing down the wrong pipe and throwing me into a coughing fit. A bit of it dribbled down my chin and stained my cotton shirt—I would've cussed if it wasn't from my temporary inability to speak.

"Garcia, you copy?"

I cleared my scratchy throat and checked my ETA—only eleven minutes away from Porcelain Road. Knowing I was by far the closest out of the three patrol units on duty tonight, I swallowed my reluctance, set my midnight drink in the cup-holder and answered the dispatcher. "Responding right now."

But even as I drove out of the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot and rolled onto the quietest streets in town, all I could think about was my father.

Leo Garcia was known to most townies as a paranoid lunatic, but to me, he wasn't much more than an emotionally absent father who suffered a bad case of pareidolia.

"Someone's eyes, watching us," he'd say often enough to drive me crazy. "Don't you see it, Jacob?"

At first, I'd actually look. Search for the pair of eyes in question, for something unusual or out of place. But there never was anything there.

"No, dad." I'd answer.

"Right there," he'd tap my shoulder, his own eyes wide and disturbed. "That woman!"

I'd look once more, perhaps holding out hope for my father's sanity, slipping right through his fingers. But eventually I'd sigh, and swallow down my shame. "That's just a mother walking a baby stroller, dad. She's not even looking at us."

Once, my father became convinced our family dog Archie was possessed by the devil after he'd supposedly witnessed his eyes turning red. He drove an hour away from home and abandoned him in another town, claiming he had done so in order to protect our family.

My mom and I found Archie's lifeless body on the side of the road two days later, covered in flies. Probably had been hit by a car while on his way back home.

At the time, I was thirteen years old. It took me over a year to tell my father I forgave him, but I honestly don't know if I ever truly did.

I drove past the red light before letting the dark streets engulf me, a sour taste in my mouth. It disgusted me to realize I was still prisoner of my father's illness—I couldn't help but be reminded of even worse memories.

My last memories of him alive.

"Jacob, there's something over there. The bull, Jacob, it's staring right at us!"

There was no bull.

"I can see the children. Oh lord, they're begging, Jacob, pleading for help. It's the bull. It's the Taurus sisters!"

There were no children.

"Son, I'm terrified."

There was nothing to be scared of.

"If I don't come back, don't come looking for me, Jacob. Promise me."

I promised, mostly to shut him up.

He disappeared after that. I didn't go looking for him, not that I would even know where to look. It took two months for the authorities to find his body, down at the intersection of Porcelain Road, and the death was ruled a suicide.

I never questioned it, because to me, it made perfect sense.

When the dirty white street sign of Porcelain Road blinked in response to my headlights, I felt the hairs stand on the back of my neck. The name was taunting me, the static forest making me inexplicably nauseous and the scarce housing rising my anxiety levels. Even the moon turned oppressive—it looked like the Cheshire cat's curling smile, pacing around me and licking its lips as though it knew I was getting myself caught. As I did most misfortune in my life, I blamed my father's influence for weakening my composure.

I pulled up in the driveway of the Taurus family home. From what I could see in the four-story century-old house, there were only two lights still on this deep in the hours of the night—one at the highest window, most likely the attic, and one coming from the basement, illuminating the gravel at ground level.

"10-23 and out," I spoke into the radio before willing myself into getting out of the car.

An illogical sense of dread swam in my veins, one I tried to reason with. A child's scream, was it? Could very well be kids pranking each other in the vast woodland area surrounding the houses, or simply a horror movie that had been played too loud. The odds were in my favor.

But my positive thinking wasn't enough to stop the bile from rising up my throat as I climbed the steps up to the front door. The silence was eerie; so loud the whining of weathered wood beneath my boots was like a cry in itself. I glanced around—no neighboring houses were even visible. How could they have possibly heard anything or knew it came from here?

Something wasn't right, but perhaps in a surge of arrogance or in a dormant need to prove my father wrong, I grabbed the iron door knocker, hitting with three strong knocks that echoed around me and caged me in.

That was when I saw it.

Above my head stood a gargoyle carved in the shape of a horned bull. Its head was inched downwards, staring straight at me with malevolent pupils behind which a fire burned everything to ashes. I flinched. I could feel its gaze pierce through me as though it was alive, as though it could pick me up like a malleable doll and do as it wished. Sweat pearled on my forehead.

"Jacob, there's something over there. The bull, Jacob, it's staring right at us!"

Something was telling me to get away—perhaps intangible remains of my father which had refused to let go.

The front door opened.

I came face to face with a middle-aged woman of average height with no particularly striking features. It seemed the cat in the sky had gotten my tongue, prompting the woman to speak first.

"Can I help you, officer?"

I cleared my throat, ignoring the nausea. "Sorry to bother you Ma'am, but we received word of a nearby disturbance. A child's scream, to be exact." I opened my mouth to ask permission to have a look around the property, but the words got tangled like a bundle of thread.

"Oh, goodness, a child you say?" The woman's night gown was untouched, as though it had just been ironed instead of worn to bed. "Why, how awful. Feel free to investigate, officer, we would be happy to help."

She smiled. The cat's teeth blinded me. The bull's regard obscured my thoughts. I wanted run away as far as I could, but I had a job to do.

"Sure," I attempted a smile myself. "Thank you, Ma'am."

The woman stepped back and gestured for me to enter, which I did reluctantly.

"My sisters are asleep upstairs," she informed me after closing and locking the door behind her. "Could I offer you a cup of tea? Chamomile does wonders for nerves."

I was about to refuse, but something about her was terribly off, something I couldn't put my finger on. If I was going to look around the house, I'd rather do so without her shadowing my every move.

Didn't mean I was going to drink it.

"I'd love a cup of tea, thank you."

When she glided away to what I could only assume to be the kitchen, I immediately got to work, summoning as much focus as I possibly could. This was a massive house, and even though there was no way I'd look through every room tonight, I could at least keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

I started by skimming through the first floor hallway where black and white photographs placed into frames had been crookedly nailed to the wall. I couldn't help but notice there were no men to be seen—the photos in question were only of women and children. A clink of dishes coming from the kitchen reached my ears and I hurried on with my search, moving into the dining room, living room, and office space, all three being more stripped-down than the last, like walking straight into a museum of the 1800s.

A faucet turned on in the distance, urging me forward. I delved into the next room, or what seemed like a library with empty shelves. A fireplace offered marginal lighting, something which instantly struck me as strange, being it was the middle of August. The air was heavy and suffocating, yet I felt a shiver run up my spine. I squinted, spotting something on the shelves in the back of the room.

I reached for the flashlight on my belt loop and flipped it on, revealing rows and rows of porcelain dolls populating the back wall. I gulped, my stomach churning, and examined the dolls more closely.

Their skins, most of them cracked, turned translucent as I shone the light on them. Like most dolls, they appeared quite young—small, immobile children with curly locks, pink cheeks and pouty lips.

But what I found peculiar were their eyes.

Maybe it was the vitreous surface of the corneas, or the coloring of the irises, or even the shape of the pupils, but it all looked too realistic. There was something too unbearably human about those dolls—gazing into them, I saw sadness, fear, pain. I was drawn in without realizing how it was happening, inching closer to a particular doll with green eyes.

I felt like time had stopped. If the pendulum ticked, I didn't hear it.

All I heard was my father's voice.

"I can see the children. Oh lord, they're begging, Jacob, pleading for help."

My pulse was knocking against the skin of my neck. I leaned in, and in, and in, my nose but a hair away from the doll.

The doll's eyes became glassy the more I stared. It wasn't until a tear welled up in the doll's waterline and fell down the its cheek that I screamed, backing up until my back collided with the opposite wall.

"The children, Jacob. The children!"

"There you are," the woman manifested in the doorway, grabbing my gut and squeezing it. I was falling out of touch with reality. I had to get out. The woman smiled, and this time, her teeth were as black as ink. "Tea?"

Cold sweat dripped down my back as I lowered my flashlight, begging my vocal chords to work.

"Actually, I'm about done here, if you don't mind." I walked past her, trying to act somewhat calm. "I'll take my leave."

"Oh." She appeared upset, but didn't lunge at me as I half-expected her to. Fears were clouding my judgement. None of this made any bit of sense. I couldn't even afford to wonder what was hidden in the attic, or in the basement, I had to get out now. "Well, alright, then."

I could hear her steps trail after me but figured it was best not to look back. My boots were loud down the hallway, and I reached for the door, breathing a sigh of relief to find it unlocked.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Ma'am," I said before stepping outside.

I only looked back once I was safe in my car, though what I saw chilled me to the bone.

There wasn't just one woman, but over fifteen of them, standing on the porch with the front door wide open. Their eyes stared at me as wickedly as the bull did.

"It's the bull. It's the Taurus sisters!"

Suddenly, my vision blurred. I tried to insert the key into the ignition, but I didn't manage. My consciousness slipped away, and all I could think was...

My father had been right.