Searching for Andromeda 56 Facing One's Fears

Samuel hated dolls. Sinister-looking dolls, to be precise. He loathed Chucky. He despised Annabelle, and he even freaked out with Jigsaw. Samuel did not want to associate himself into watching anything horror movies . . . especially ones that had the doll formula as the scare. He surely understood pop culture more than anyone else. He knew the method to scare people. The impending fear of one's death and the possibilities when death will come. This was why horror movies were popular. They gave so much thrill and adrenaline people would scream on top of their lungs upon seeing the gore.

It wasn't any different from Samuel. But double the effectivity. His brain was active all throughout and he would get fixated with the movie he would freak out at the slightest sound of a scrunch. People often told him since he was smart, he should be able to predict when the scares would appear. But good horror movies had so much the convenience of turning the ordinary to something freaky that it would be hard to actually predict when the jumpscare would get the viewer.

This was why he hated dolls. They basically could appear ANYWHERE. Burn them, disassemble them, and even exorcising them would only prove fatal because they would be coming back fiercer and malevolent. It freaked him out that he wasn't able to even see another doll movie again.

Samuel had a high retention rate. It was given he would think about the faces of the dolls and could even carry the jumpscares over his dreams. He never liked the notion that an immovable object could be alive. Especially something as hollow as a doll.

Seeing one moving around in the most terrifying manner possible made all the hairs on his body stand up.

"MmaMaa," it says, "Ma . . . ma."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not your darn mother!!!" Samuel exclaims as he runs in a circle with the doll chasing him. "I'm a boy! I'm not your mom!!!"

Samuel ran towards the sofa and grabbed a stuffed toy. He then proceeded to throw it to the doll, which then struck its face. It gave off a sound like an object bumping against the wood. Suddenly, the doll stopped chasing Samuel after it received the blow.

And then, like a dark cloud looming to the clear skies, the candid motif bit by bit darkened until only the clocks and the stuffed toys were the only ones considered visible. The doll then started to walk backwards, and eventually vanished to the darkness—its shadow fading away to obscurity.

Samuel, for a second, hesitated to move away from the coffee table. However, hiding amongst stuffed toys with his head peering from the pastry tray wasn't exactly the Samuel Albrecht all the people around him came to know. He was referred to as a cocky brat. He should be brave enough to face a doll head-on. He was able to survive an earthquake, falling debris, and combat laboratory monsters—a doll should be nothing to him, right?

Samuel struggled to convince himself. This was his fear.

The doll didn't look like it had any threatening weapons at hand. The doll wasn't a pipsqueak like Chucky who held all sorts of sharp objects, or like Annabelle that had a demon in control.

It should be fine. It's not like it can harm him to an extent. How bad can it be, anyway?

But then again . . . magic looked like it existed as one of the rules in the place Samuel was trapped in. Considering the chambers just darkened in a span of seconds—and how the doll had just retracted to the darkness so soundlessly would explain that there is a paranormal element recurring about.

Samuel felt a shiver running down his spine. RIGHT. If he thinks that this would be a hopeless, one-man chase, then it would be long over. But then again—the enemy itself isn't perceivable. And a moving . . . doll? That would be the death of Sam. It was his fear. No matter how much he thinks about it, he fears the fact he was literally facing what he was afraid of in the battle of survival.

Samuel slapped both of his cheeks.

"Alright. I can do this."

He was a researcher. What can he apply here in research?

The first thing to do is to develop one's problem and identify the task that is needed to be addressed—in this case, it can be many things, but the short way to list it down in his mind: doll, room, escape, survival.

Next is to do a preliminary search for the information, which would be to examine the place. And then following is to formulate the null and alternative hypothesis, meaning to consider the chances of either living or dying along the way.

It would be difficult to establish a proper parameter when there are so many endless possibilities when the limitations don't seem to exist. At least not in Samuel's own list of constraints. He knew the rules he perceived could either be present or otherwise in the place he was now in. Whatever ANDROMEDA led him to was a completely different place. He was starting to formulate his theories, but that could wait. He has to think about how he would escape the 'dungeon' as the group that wanted him dead called it.

But first thing first. He had to address the elephant in the room. Hence, the doll.

"G-go," says the stuffed toy in his side. Samuel held back a scream as he met the gaze of the stuffed toy. So these things are . . . alive too? Samuel covered his mouth to hold back his scream. He just held and threw one!

"Lottie m-misses h-her m-m-mma," the stuffed bunny says, not minding Samuel's pale face urging to scream. "so g-g-give L-Lottie's m-m-mama and y-you'll b-be fr-free,"

Samuel took a deep breath, forcing his chin to be held high. That's right. He IS Samuel Albrecht. He wasn't some sort of a coward. He was BRAVE! These things shouldn't frighten him, no matter how freaky they are.

"L-Lottie misses h-her m-mama," says the doll, "b-but be c-careful . . . y-you hit her,"

Samuel forced a smile. "Yeah, t-thanks, creepy bunny!"—he says, before running towards complete darkness.

Chapter end