A/N: Even though it would be highly unlikely people will read this, (merely no stories written for this), I wanted to throw this out there anyway. Hopefully some-one will get enjoyment out of this.

Story-line wise, this story takes place a couple of years after Child's Play 2.

The young ten year old pulled the covers over his eyes. Surely, he thought, if he didn't make eye-contact, it would disappear. Hopefully, the mere image would erase from his mind and the figure would be gone within sight. Though, even if his eyes were shut tight or opened underneath the gentle fabric, the child could still see the figure. Clearly, out of sight, was definitely not out of mind. And really, out of all the terror and torture he had been through, how can he forget? How can he possibly forget about him? Feeling defeated, the child lowered his blanket and returned his gaze to the corner. This thing wasn't like him, yet, something about its eyes reminded him of the horrid doll.

Not moving an inch, sitting silently on the rocking chair was a ventriloquist dummy. As well as the child, its lifeless eyes remained focused on him. Sure it gave a neutral smile in return, though, with a shadow casting over him, the boy could've sworn seeing it smirking instead. He tightened his grip on the blanket. The way it was dressed didn't help either. Surely, this thing wasn't fooling anyone, the dummy, trying to pass the message that he's harmless, by wearing a gentleman's attire. Polished brown shoes, crafted brown neat hair, a gray suit, red bowtie and a boutonnière wasn't selling it towards the child. Not by a long shot. The doll he vividly remembered was similar. The murderer, trying to pass himself off by being friendly due to the ironically labeled, Good Guy, name on his person. Hmph, they're all so nice on the outside, that it misinterprets them from being monsters on the inside.

After studying the dummy more closely, it then suddenly clicked. Didn't the dummy have brown eyes? Then, why was he seeing an icy blue instead? Similar…to…..The boy then sprang from his pillow. Within seeing those colored eyes, it was no wonder the dummy was a reminder. Closing his own eyes, not wanting to look, he started to hear that awful laughter. Why, why couldn't he just leave him alone? Having enough, the boy opened his eyes, and finally jumped off the bed. With a shred of bravery, he walked to the corner of the room, and yanked the dummy off the chair. While bringing him to the light, the boy saw that the dummy had its chocolate brown eyes again. Huh, shadows, really do make objects scarier than they appear, though; the boy wasn't taking any chances. Scooping the dummy in one arm, he walked to the closet and opened it. Having it wide, he threw the thing inside and closed the door. Finally, maybe at least he could try and get some sleep. Though, as soon as he was mid-way to the bed, the tiniest hope the child had….vanished.

Let me out….

I can't breathe…..

He felt a sudden chill down his spine. Looking at his arms, he even had goosebumps.

Please…..

He heard again.

Still having his feet glued to the floor, he slowly turned back to the closet door. He took a gulp. Not only was this dummy a bad reminder of the source of his nightmares, but now, he was hearing a voice; a strange raspy voice. Ultimately, his mind was spinning, his imagination thinking of the worst. Either he found a way to inhabit a different vessel, or the child got tangled up with another possessed being. Feeling scared, his first instinct was to run and call on his new adoptive parent, though, knowing full well of the outcome, he stayed where he was. What was the point? No-one believed him, especially the last family he was with; and they paid the price for it. Still, it hurt though when he couldn't stay with his sister, but in the end, it couldn't be helped. She was eventually taken in by a different family. Well, at least she would be safe if he returned, or, maybe when he returned.

He moved a couple of steps closer to the closet. Though, before he was inches away of grabbing and turning the knob, he stopped, thinking. If this dummy were to be him, then he'll just attack once the door is opened, but, if it's something else….well…it couldn't hurt to be armed. Stepping away, he then ran out of the room, and within ten minutes, returned with a dangerous utensil; a knife. Hopefully this weapon will be sharp enough to pierce its heart. After all, that's how he was stopped the first time, second time was being blown to bits, third time, may be the charm. Edging slowly towards the closet door, the boy placed the knife behind his back. Taking a breath, he then grabbed the knob and turned. Once the door was opened a crack, he peeked inside. Even though there was nothing but darkness, the boy half-expected for the dummy to push and lunge at him; but, as the door cracked wider, no assault came.

Instead, he was welcomed with the same neutral smile. The dummy was lying against a couple of boxes, having his hands together over his lap; those brown eyes, never leaving his gaze. His grip on the knife lessened a bit. If this thing really was him, then he would have attacked him by now. So…maybe….he hadn't returned. But then…how does that explain the voice from earlier? He regained his hold on the utensil. One thing's certain, he had to be sure. Still being cautious, he kneeled down, and grabbed the dummy by the arm; pulling him out of the closet. The boy knew it was silly, though as he brought the thing out, again, he expected some-kind of forceful tug or protest from the toy. But no reaction was given.

Eerily, it seemed as the boy sat, and brought him close, the dummy's eyes were fixated on the child's every move, especially, when the boy pulled out the hidden knife. Once the child brought the sharp object close to its face, the boy suddenly thought he saw the dummy's eyebrows narrow. It, giving off a sense of not liking what he was doing; though, once when the child blinked, he saw the same default face. Was it his imagination….or?

He moved the knife closer to the left eye.

He took a breath.

"Talk," he instructed; finding his voice.

"Or else."

The blade inched even closer.

If threating to burn a doll got it to start talking, surely, a jab to the eye will work just as good for a dummy; especially, a talking dummy.

His heart started to race, thinking that the thing would crack at any minute. Though, as time passed, he continued to gaze at its default face. Huh, was this dummy just that good at pretending, or, was the child really losing it thanks to the stupid good guy doll? He pulled the blade back an inch.

"I'm…I'm going to give you til the count of three," he began.

His heart was still pounding.

"One."

The dummy's eyes looked cold.

"T-T-two," he stuttered.

Its smile, suddenly twisted into a evil grin.

"Three!"

Heart still racing, the boy was about to pierce the eye- socket, but then, he realized something….no harm had come to him. There were no sudden movements, no harsh-out bursts, no death threats, or teeth trying to rip skin….nothing. For the first time ever, it was just him…alone…safe. Within time, he lowered the knife, and took another breath; feeling relieved. The dummy…wasn't alive. Bringing the blade to the floor, he then embraced the dummy into his arms.

"S-Sorry…" he uttered; treating it as if it was alive regardless.

"It's just that…when it comes to dolls, puppets, or anything that appears human ….I go a little—"

He stared at the abandoned weapon on the floor.

"—overboard…."

He returned his gaze to the dummy.

Feeling the need to fill the silence, and try to steady his heart-beat, the child gave a dry laugh. All this was so stupid, thinking that a dummy could be alive, why, at best, he could've been sleeping instead. A part of his mind was saying this to himself, though, at the same time, another part kept nagging; the voice saying he had to do it. He gave a sigh; hopefully, he could sneak the knife back into the kitchen before his Dad noticed, last thing he would want is for him to assume the worst. Hoisting the dummy up, he then walked and placed him back on the rocking chair. Strangely, as the boy was fixing its posture, the dummy's eyes were now fixated on the knife. The boy was already so exhausted that he didn't even notice.

"…You know…" he continued; thinking out loud, "….I always feel like I'm hiding, yet….at the same time, trying to live my life in the open."

As he straightened the dummy's legs, he gave another sigh, "It's hard….Try living in a world where all you want is freedom, yet all you get is a life of torment."

Abruptly, the boy's words took a sudden interest to the dummy, its eyes diverting back; away from the utensil.

"I really hate that doll," he muttered; remembering those times.

Though eventually, he shook away the memories. Sleep was important, if he thought about him now, he'll never get to sleep. Already feeling drained as he was, and not wanting to do a second trip down the stairs, he simply took the knife and put it under his bed. Note to self, wake up early to sneak the item back into the drawer, and if he so happens to get caught while in the kitchen, he'll just give an excuse of looking for a buttered knife for toast, but accidently pulled out the wrong one. Sure he'll get into trouble, but at least the excuse will astray his Dad from his real intentions. After thinking it through, he then closed the closet door and went straight to bed. Though, before he closed his eyes, his gaze was back to the dummy in the corner.

Hm, he remembered when he first received the dummy as a gift; he read some strange language from the card it came with. Never knew what it all meant, though, he figured when he flipped it to other side, the letters spelled were the dummy's name. Feeling the power of sleep finally overtaking him, he slowly closed his eyes.

"Good-night….Slappy…"

Without another word, his eyes were finally shut tight.

After a while, seeing that the small child was now fast asleep, the dummy loosened up; grinning. Finally, he can move.

Being sneaky, and quiet as possible, the little gentleman got off the chair. Luckily the squeaky noises from the chair were so faint, the child couldn't hear them. Once the dummy was to his feet, he then took a moment and stretched a bit.

"Here I was sitting nicely on a chair, minding my own business, only to find myself being yanked, and thrown into a closet," the dummy, Slappy said.

He brushed off some dust on his suit.

"Hah, and they say I'm the rude one," he continued with a whisper.

Still being quiet, he then started to gaze at his new surroundings. To his eyes, it was nothing too out of the ordinary. From being housed in many children's rooms, this room was particularly no different. Quite a shame he mused, from the small details he'd been given, the dummy thought the child's room would've reflected more to the boy's unstable mind, like a dungeon, or an asylum. Hell, for all he knew, the boy was probably heading in that path already. Merely breathing a single syllable and the dummy would be immediately put to death….figurative speaking in this case. Whispering behind the closet door already proved that alone.

As the child slept, Slappy came close and retrieved the knife from under the bed. He eyed the utensil, admiring its sharpness.

"Such a pity…" he began.

His gaze diverted to the boy.

"Normally I wouldn't get involved in these types of situations….it's just no fun trying to scare a child if they're already broken."

Slappy then climbed onto the bed with blade in hand. Quietly, he leaned close; examining the boy's sleeping face.

"But thanks to the curse and Jimmy—," he spat his old slave's name, "—not only am I tied to this kid, but I have to be nice, and help him."

The Three Good deeds he mused.

Ha, Ha, well…I would consider putting him out of his misery would be nice enough; after all, the world is a cold and cruel place to live in….

….and yet….his words….

Thinking of a certain dummy he hated with a passion, Slappy wondered, if the child's story was true, he wanted to know…just who or what this doll was, and most importantly, what was its name. He'll eventually reveal himself and ask the kid, though for now, he'll just play it by ear, and wait; but not too long…considering in what he had to do.

In the meantime…..

As much as the dummy wanted revenge for having the knife close to his eye, he simply placed it behind his back and leaned even closer to the child's ear.

"Goodnight….Andy…"

Or should I say….Slave….heee heee heee

*Happy Halloween Month!*