Repost from my tumblr ( jakodisaer .tumblr .com)
Pitch hummed and tapped another needle into pale fabric. It was quite the lovely little doll, all rosy, porcelain cheeks and carefully braided hair. Bright, soft red hair. Red like embers in a fire, red as a poppy. He made another stitch, affixing a bright green bow to its hair. Another prick of the needle added ribbon of the same color to her hair. Prick went the needle.
Prick. A too hard press sent the needle into the doll's head. Pitch huffed in annoyance as the doll began to bleed, delicately arranged skirts staining as the tiny skull cracked open and dripped and matted the rapidly paling braids. Blood dripped onto the dark table, where it was swallowed into the stone.
The Nightmare ran his thin fingers along the doll, the rich red of the blood oozing upwards to its hair, where it vanished into its tiny skull. The porcelain closed behind the liquid, clinking wetly. Blonde hair swelled back to red. Pitch lifted the doll to eye level, studying it in the workshop's light.
Light streamed through a great, arched window, catching on his hands and the chiffon dress of the doll. His hands were nigh transparent in the light, bones fully visible, along with a facsimile of veins, much like a half rotted corpse.
The doll's hair glowed with all the warmth of a house fire. Its white dress was crisply clean, the bow in its hair a bright, poisonous green.
Pitch smiled down at the doll, tying the final thread. He set it oh so gently down amidst a pile of other toys, then reached into a nearby bucket. Maggots writhed around his fingers as he lifted a handful out. He reached for a pile of brown fabric with his other hand, pulling across the table. The button eyes of a toy bear were already sewn on; all that was left was the stuffing.
He tipped the squirming, putrid mass of maggots into the innards of the toy bear, murmuring, "Be still, little ones, be still, you'll be free soon enough." The bear's fur shifted about before the maggots settled, squelching in the quiet of the workshop.
The light through the window was starting to dim, coloring the workshop the warm oranges of the sunset. The encroaching darkness disguised the subtle shifting of the teddy bear, and the doll's blood red locks became a deep auburn. The beetle eyes of a hundred, thousand other toys gleamed in the low light.
Just a room full of sweet toys, nothing more.
Pitch smiled.
(Nightmares can be so much more terrible in the light of day).