The Game at Carousel: A Horror Movie LitRPG

From the outside, the House of Dolls looked picture-perfect, like an American Girl store or the type of place that only existed in the minds of young girls playing tea parties with their dolls.

Because there were dolls. Tons and tons of them.

It was a Queen Anne-style home, except for two of the walls—the ones facing the street—were mostly windows. Through those windows, you could see tables set up for patrons who might want to have a tea party themselves, as the Dollhouse was apparently a restaurant as well as a shop.

Who would go eat in a place filled with those soulless creatures? I didn’t know.

There were lots of fabrics around the house with a checkered pattern, similar to the one usually found on a picnic blanket. The entire place was dusted and perfect, situated on the corner of a street in a well-to-do neighborhood with old houses and large trees.

Out on the porch, four dolls had been set up in rocking chairs to greet the neighborhood. Only one of them appeared to be cursed, as its eyes just wouldn’t stay still.

For Carousel, this place was underwhelming so far. I had expected the walls to be made out of melted Barbie dolls or something. And yet, it was perfectly delightful—from a distance.

Because no matter how good it looked as we walked down the street, the closer we got, the more omens we saw peeking out through those windows in the front.

We stopped at the corner across the street from the house, and Antoine whipped out the Atlas, which he carried with him.

Ideally, we would keep the Atlas at the Loft so that it didn’t get carried into a Storyline and then lost to us forever. But we figured that if Kimberly got trapped in a Storyline, the Loft would also be lost to us, and if the Atlas was there, it would be gone too so there really was no safe place for it.

Finding a way to copy the Atlas without spoiling ourselves was on the To-Do List.

“So, what have we got?” Michael said. “Is it safe to walk in? Or are we just gonna sit out here and stare?”

“I cannot impress on you enough how difficult it is to search through this book,” Andrew said. “It was designed for someone with Eureka.”

I chuckled because I had come to the same realization myself when trying to search through the Atlas. We would have our Scholar back one day, and when we did, it would be his job to look through that damn book.

“I doubt the Psychic would have sent us here if it was a death trap,” I said. “We paid her forty whole dollars.”

As much as that was a joke, I also felt like it might be true—that we could trust a lead from a Paragon, at least within the terms of the normal game, if not under all circumstances. Perhaps if there had been some ominous warning along with it…

“Here it is,” Andrew said. “Unfortunately, this section is not nearly as complete as some of the others.”

“That’s because nobody wanted to go into the Dollhouse,” Isaac said.

He was probably right.

As Andrew read through the scant information about the House of Dolls, I noticed that Ramona was staring at the house. I followed her gaze up to the second floor, and sure enough, there was an open window. While the room was dark, it did appear that something was sitting in front of the window—not in a chair, but almost as if a bed was situated in front of the window.

I could only see the silhouette.

“Spooky,” I said. “You think we’re being watched?”

Ramona shrugged. I could tell from the look on her face that something was off.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just feel like someone’s looking at me.”

I looked back up at the dark figure in the window. There could have been someone there, or I could have been looking at a pillow—I couldn’t tell. I also felt something, but then, out in the open, my Hysteric trope was making me all kinds of anxious.

Andrew closed the book and handed it back to Antoine.

“I have to conclude that if the Dollhouse were dangerous, then someone who had written about it would have mentioned it,” he said. “More than that, it is a restaurant of some sort—or at least I think I see a menu by the door. And restaurants are often safe enough to eat at, with some notable exceptions.”

I could understand the rest of them having their concerns. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go through Carousel without being able to see omens easily, let alone see how they triggered.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll go in and help scope the place out. We don’t know this area very well, so we need scouts to stay out and keep a lookout. Isaac that means you, as much as you probably wanted to go in the Dollhouse.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Aw, nuts,” Isaac said.

“Lila,” I said, “if you would stay out for a while and just keep an eye out while I scope things out in there, we’ll send for you if we find something.”

Technically, the lead that we were given was given to Andrew, Lila, and Michael, so it would make sense for her to go into the Dollhouse. But at the same time, I was far too curious—and a little too much of a micromanager—to stay outside now that we were on the trail of something big.

Your friends have all fallen, some here, some there;

'Til they have risen, you've no friends to spare.

I fully expected to find a clue about the fortune, and I wanted to be there to see it for myself. The more I looked at those two little lines, the more certain I became that the straightforward warning was just a misdirect and that the true meaning was something else entirely. I was still working it over in my mind.

“I’ll stay out here with the Atlas,” Antoine said.

I guess that means me, Andrew, Michael, maybe Cassie, maybe Kimberly. “Dina,” I said, looking at her, “do you want to look at some dolls?”

“The first time one of those things says my name, I’m going to punt it across the room,” she said.

“Who else? Ramona, do you want to come?” I asked, noting that she was still looking at the upstairs window.

She nodded.

Kimberly wasn’t that excited to go and Cassie was acting hesitant for some reason, so Andrew, Michael, Dina, Ramona, and I set off across the road. As we got closer, I kept my eyes moving to try to get a layout and understand the omens.

My worst fear was that they might be moving, as dolls tended to do in horror movies. But for the most part, the House of Dolls appeared to be an ordinary shop—lots of omens for sale, as well as a few trope items, including a baby doll that everyone in a horror movie would pretend was a real baby.

Kimberly could use it with her pregnancy trope. I’d have to tell her about it.

As we approached the porch, I was able to read the menu for the tea and treats available at the shop.

The Teacup Cottage: House of Dolls

Enchanted Teas and Sweets

Teas

• Moonlit Gumdrop Elixir

• Fairy Fog and Petalbrew

• Whimsical Wishing Tea

• Starlit Dream Draught

• Midsummer Marshmallow Mist

• Honeydew Glitter Gloss

• Whispering Cloudfrost Tea

• Velvet Rose & Sparkle Shine

• Candyfloss Hummingbrew

Sweets & Treats

• Rainbow Glow Cakes with Sparkle Drizzle

• Celestial Cloud Scones with Stardrop Jam

• Mystic Gumdrop Carousel

Step into wonder, where each sip tells a story and every bite feels like a dream.

Those weren’t exactly recipes I was used to, but then, I didn’t drink tea, so maybe it was a perfectly normal menu.

The possibility that a witch was about to eat us skyrocketed, but if we weren’t going to take risks, we would be stuck in Carousel forever.

Before we could open the screen door and enter the establishment—which had a big "Open" sign in the window—a plump woman with a large smile and ruby-red cheeks quickly opened it for us. She must have heard us coming. Her hair was long and tied into pigtails, a bright, deep red that looked too uniform to be real—a wig, most likely.

On the red wallpaper, she was simply an ordinary NPC named Darla.

"Hello, welcome to The Teacup Cottage!" She waved us all into the house. I wasn’t in any hurry, still checking for omens and danger to make sure we were safe, but soon enough, we all scuffled inside to see rows upon rows of dolls of all sorts.

There were way too many dolls to be comfortable, and at least half of them looked far too creepy for anyone to realistically want to display them.

"Peter, we have guests," the woman called out. She turned to us, smiling broadly. "Would you like some tea? Did you see the menu?"

Michael, Andrew, Dina, and Ramona were not the slightest bit interested.

I asked how much it cost.

"Only a dollar," she said, "but the second cup is free! What can I get you?"

“I’m good,” I said. “We’d just like to look around.”

"Wonderful! Be careful not to touch the dolls; lots of them are antiques. The house is full of them, but whatever you do, don’t go upstairs. Now, which tea was it you said you wanted, son?"

“No tea for me,” I said.

But she looked at me expectantly and replied, “I’ll go ahead and get you some—you’ll love it. Peter!” she yelled. “One order for Whispering Cloudfrost!”

She smiled back at me.

When she left, Andrew looked at me and said, “I advise you not to drink the tea.”

“Thanks,” I said as if I had to be told.

"What exactly are we supposed to be doing here?" Michael asked.

Andrew shook his head and took out the card Madam Celia had given him. “It has no instructions, no hints. I suppose we’re just going to look around… unless you think that Darla has answers.”

Meanwhile, I noticed that Ramona was looking straight up.

“What’s up there?” I asked.

“I don’t want to say,” she replied. “I don’t understand it.”

I tried staring up at the ceiling like she was, and it was true that there was something up there. I didn’t know if I felt it because I had my semi-psychic background trope or because there was something up there that even an ordinary person could feel—a silent scream, pressing down.

“Here’s your tea, dear,” Darla said, having returned quickly.

“That was done fast,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said, “we pride ourselves in our service.”

She handed me an empty yellow teacup, then lifted a matching teapot and began filling my cup. Except… nothing came out.

“Would you like any sugar, dear?” she asked.

“No… I’m good,” I said. “Thank you.”

Honestly, one of the creepiest things that could have come out of that teapot was nothing at all. Because it confirmed that Darla was more than just a little weird.

“That’ll be a dollar,” she said, “and taste your tea while it’s hot!”

Was I supposed to pay her a dollar?

She didn’t give me anything, and there was no way I was going to drink this “tea” anyway, but she held out her hand. I decided it was worth a dollar just to end the interaction.

I retrieved the right-sized coin from my pocket, and as she reached out for it, I fumbled a bit so that it dropped to the ground.

“I am so sorry,” I said.

“No problem at all,” she replied, bending over to grab it.

Immediately, I dumped the invisible tea onto the ground with a silent splash, and when she rose back up, I brought the teacup near my lips to pretend I had just drunk the whole thing.

“You finished it?” she exclaimed, laughing. “Your mouth must be burning! Would you like some more?”

“No, no, I couldn’t,” I said quickly.

“I insist! The second one’s free,” she said, lifting the teapot to pour me another fake cup of tea.

Defeated, I said, “We’re gonna go drink it over here at the table.”

I led the group to one of the tables by the window.

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