AN: I don't recall how I got the idea for this one. Just telling you now, I think it's my most twisted yet. Once again my mind displays its ability to come up with fairly weird stuff. Maybe I've been reading too much Stephen King. Meh. Whatever. Like all my oneshots, not much went into this. Take from it what you will. Cookies for whoever can figure out what the heck I'm writing about. I think it's pretty clear, but as the author my thought process is of course biased and skewed.

Dollhouse

I own a dollhouse, and it's my very favourite toy. It's not just any dollhouse, though. This one is special. The dolls are special too. How come? Well, only I know that, but it's really not too hard to figure out. After all, big brother may not play with it, but I know he envies my prize. I can see him looking at it with those gentle gleaming eyes, and for big brother to betray his thoughts like that... well... he wants it. Bad.

But he can't have it. After all, it is mine. I do however let him borrow it from time to time. See, he gets me the dolls, so it's only fair. He gets to place them inside, and then leave me to play with them however I want. One might think I might get bored with it after awhile, since the dolls don't move, but that's fine. I can imagine them however I want. I'll sit there and play quietly while big brother waits for me in the shadows, lusting after the dollhouse with those cold, calculating and fatal eyes, much the same way he sometimes looks at me.

And I'll play, ignoring big brother. I'll gaze at my dolls in the dollhouse, thinking of how to play.

I could imagine the girl dolls getting together and having a tea party. Or I could imagine one of the men coming home from work as his wife comes to greet him. I could also picture all of the dolls teaming up against my least favourite – my most hated – doll. I could see them tear the doll apart, limb from limb with their bare hands arched and sharpened like claws. They would sink their teeth into the soft cool flesh of the hated one, groaning in demonic joy as warm lifeblood came gushing out. They would lick the corpse clean and feast off the remains as insects and jackals.

And the doll would be gone. But alas, I can't make that happen, because as I said before, the dolls don't move. Oh, if I could make them move...

But even though they are trapped in the dollhouse for now, there may be a way to enjoy myself once I get bored with the trophies brother brings. After all, I have other toys – oh so many other toys – that I have yet to play with. I don't even know what some do yet. But I will find out.

But not yet. My dollhouse is not full. I am missing some dolls. They don't want to come home, but big brother will make them. And if he can't, I will. I will have my dolls, and together, we'll all play in the dollhouse.