New Jack Wilde story "Little Boy Blue" (sneak preview)

Thank you to all who have waited patiently for the next Jack Wilde story. Apologies for the looooong delay.

Why is it taking so long? Well... put simply: I keep losing Jack's voice. All the jokes and snarky asides and combination of bravado and wit and unreliability are very much NOT my natural internal monologue.

That's OK though. Part of the process. I've written about 1/3 of the story and I'll be posting.... soon, I hope! Here is a preview:

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn.

The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.

Where is the boy who is dressed all in blue?

He’s counting the days, he’s hiding from you!

Is he in the meadow? Or under the bed?

Ten days he’s gone missing—oh whence has he fled?

They’ll find him beside you—stone, cold, dead.

 

So, there’s this doll. Little Boy Blue. It was found with an old nursery rhyme scrawled on yellowed paper tucked into its checked blue gown. And ever since the doll was sold at an auction in 2002, fatal misfortune has struck each of its owners. A woman named Frances died by a fall. A collector named Santiago by a car crash. And most tragic of all—a four-year-old died by drowning in the family pool. In each case, the doll went missing for ten days before the fatal accident occurred... and was found beside the corpse.

But were these deaths the result of a curse—or coincidence?

The doll’s newest owner, Theo Willis, bought it online under the assumption that it was just a hokey bit of paranormal paraphernalia to share at a party. Even when the doll disappeared from its locked case, he assumed one of his fellow partygoers had pranked him. But as the days ticked by, his dismissal turned to concern. He realized from cameras that no intruders entered or left his home during the hours of the doll’s disappearance. Furthermore, the only key to the glass case remained in his pocket at all times. And finally he called me, paranormal investigator Jack Wilde, to find the doll.

Return it to its case.

But time is running out—after days of denying his fears, he delayed hiring my help until day nine.

Tomorrow, he dies on day ten.

*         *         *

The first thing I examine is the glass case.

I trace my hands along the exterior, and the laminated warning taped to the front crinkles under my fingers:

DO NOT OPEN THE CASE.

DO NOT TOUCH THE DOLL.

ALWAYS KEEP THE DOLL ON CAMERA.

Theo, hovering over my shoulder, looks exactly like the sort of dude who dies first in a horror movie. Which sounds harsh until you hear him boast. Stuff like, “Bring it Lil’ BB,” and “Let’s see how you like a taste of this genuine samurai sword.” For context, he’s a white guy, and with every torturously mispronounced word (“I’m trained in the way of buh-SHE-do”), I find myself rooting harder for the doll....

That's all I got for now. It's short bc I'm still working on this scene, which is actually the opening of Part 2. Part 1 of the story is pending review from my writing critique partners. But hey, gives you an idea of the plot. Also, here is the doll that inspired the story.

That thing gives me the heebie jeebies... Isn't it creepy?

Now, back to the grind...

Thanks for reading!

-- Quincy