WIP Book

Mannequins

The old mannequin factory stood silent and still, the building hidden by a dense circle of trees and chain link fence, parting only where the old rolling gate separated the driveway from the road. It was chained closed with an old fashioned heavy padlock that had stood up to weather and attempts to cut it away. Vehicles hadn’t been past the gate for almost twenty years, but teens and young adults would challenge each other to enter the grounds, to spend a night or bring back a piece of a mannequin. And then there were the rumours that it was haunted or cursed. There were many stories of people going missing or having mishaps after or during a visit to the factory which only served to cement the rumours.

One story was of a seventeen year old that had snuck into the building late at night, his friends cheering him on from the gate. He managed to detach a hand from one of the mannequins in the lobby and bolted back to his friends, waving it over his head triumphantly. His version of the story says that something grabbed his leg and tripped him. His friends all say that he must have tripped over his own feet because they hadn’t seen anything or anyone around him. He fell, with his arm still held high with the mannequin hand in his own. He hit the ground with a loud thud and a scream that scattered his group of friends. Two squeezed through the gate and bolted towards him and the other two jumped into their car. He rolled onto his back, clutching his arm to his chest. When his two friends got to him they saw the horrifying scene. The teen’s hand that had been holding onto the mannequins was separated from his arm. An old rusted piece of metal jutted out from the concrete with blood covering it.