Who knew button eyes could be evil? Maybe Donnatella Verratti, but she gave ample warning. The rest of us? You could never plan on waging war against a doll. But the rest of humanity would be glad you did.

In a small village in the south of Sardinia, there was a woman named Donnatella Verratti. She was famous for making the most beautiful dolls in the world. She didn't travel outside of her village often, yet she was known globally. She made a maximum of two dolls a year and personally vetted the buyers.

Not anyone could buy a doll from her. Hell, hardly anyone made it to the interview. That's what made them worth their weight in gold. Maybe more, if you tried to scavenge one in backroom deals at movie premieres or old chateaus. She tailored each doll to the individual and strongly discouraged dolls from transferring outside the buyer's family. She warned them that doing so would hurt the doll's feelings. Some laughed; others nodded. In the end, they'd all learn the same thing. Donnatella Verratti made the most beautiful dolls in the world, and she did not lie.

However, the open market and capitalistic souls being what they are, more than one original owner has been persuaded to sell. But few as gruesome as the Kral premier of 1984.

Hindsight is a universal gift for the living- while foresight reserved for Donnatella.

She mourned along with everyone else- but made sure that she spoke of the repercussions. There's a natural order to things, she said. Decisions that should be respected- a pity, she thought. It had been a perfect original pair. A sweet, little monkey, for an ape of a man.

***

Jonathan Kral had abundant money to go with his lack of talent. That didn't stop him from churning out a frightening amount of self-produced horror films. Even as the bad reviews swelled into a tsunami of criticism and his acting pool diminished, Jonathan had fun playing with kitschy sets and buckets of fake blood.

He wasn't in it for fame or fortune. AS the son of the last viceroy of India, he had no material desires left unchecked. No, these films were for the soul. Even with their choppy cuts, static-filled audio, countless workplace safety violations, and a general plea from the public to stop, Kral couldn't give it up.

Some might have even said he was addicted. Sources suggest he was obsessed with finding the perfect prop. The item that would serve as the focal point for his magnum opus. Rather, magnum odious.

That's how fate found him in Sardinia, sitting in a small stucco house with a spindly old woman named Donnatella Verratti. They sipped chilled Mirto as Jonathan made his case to the crone.

He hoped she would respond to the fire crackling in his soul. She did him one better. She said yes. But demanded he understand that his project would be completed on her timeline; She would not be bothered by him and only by her lips would he hear of its completion.

As one artist to another, Jonathan agreed and left her house. He prayed his curiosity wouldn't get the best of him as he waited in Rome for word of completion.

Six long weeks passed in silence. No updates. No Calls. No letters. Jonathan began to lose hope- his masterpiece within sight and now sinking like a ghost ship.

And like the dawn- she arrived. Unswayed by the vast energy of Rome with its gilded museums and ruined monuments, she swept through the metropolis without sound. She joined Jonathan in his room that looked over a grand fountain and made him promise never to relinquish the doll- that it had to stay within the possession of his bloodline.

He agreed, and she was gone like the dark in a northern summer sky. She left behind a plush, velvet doll that reminded him of a spider monkey. He thought of the monkeys with cymbals and called him "Clang," knowing somehow that he was a he.

The curious thing was his little, black, button eyes. They would shine in the light- giving the doll an air of mischief that was at odds with its inanimate form.