You used to play with us everyday.
We'd go to tea parties held in the queen's castle with many people. They'd watch us dance and sing. You loved playing with us. And we loved playing with you. But then one day, you stopped. You left us there, alone, afraid, angry. Why did you leave us? Now, years later, you've completely forgotten our existence, erased us from your mind. But we haven't forgotten about you. We could never forget you.
And now we lure you away, to a mansion in the woods. You're "friends" are with you, but we don't mind. We can easily separate you from them. You come to the mansion on this day, Halloween, as it is said to be haunted. They tell you ghost don't exist. And they're right. But *we* exist. And here we watch you enter, whispering and giggling all the way.
As you enter, we shut the door behind you. You scream, then laugh, telling each other it was the wind that blew it closed. Right, the wind. You walk further and further down the hallway.
Deeper and deeper into the mansion.
Darker and darker it gets.
Soon you get separated from your friends. Great, less work for us. You don't realize it at first, but when you do, you don't panic at first. You start calling their names, telling them to 'knock it off,' 'It's not funny anymore.' But they can't hear you anymore. They left a while ago, growing bored of the abandoned building. Fear quickly fills you as you start to walk faster, glancing behind your shoulder, waiting, watching for that crazed murderer to sneak up on you.
But there is no crazed murderer.
Only us. And you.
Soon you hear faint footsteps behind you and snap, running faster, faster. Deeper, deeper into the mansion. Closer, closer to your demise. Lucky for us, you run into a dead end. Fear fill you as you start clawing at the wall, screaming for 'them' to let you out.
But there is no 'them'.
Only us. And you.
We approach you as quietly as possible, making sure you won't notice us to the last possible moment. But you turn around and see us before we can get to you, and scream. 'This can't be real,' you stutter, 'this can't be possible. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming'
But this is real. You're not dreaming. You've forgotten of us, left us to rot in that box under your bed. To live the rest of our days suffering, waiting for you to let us out. To play with us one more time.
You've left us behind.
Now we'll make sure you're left behind as well.
We jump towards you knives in hand, ready for anything. But at the last second you move and we miss you, falling hard to the floor. You quickly scramble to your feet and run. How unfortunate that the exist was so close by. You run as fast as your body lets you to get out of here. And here we watch you run. We see your friends find you, and when they do, you finally break down.
"What happened?" "Are you okay?" "What's wrong?"
And you tell them what's wrong. You tell them of how we tried to kill you, tried to erase you like you erased us. But they look at you with confusion, and fear. You might not be able to tell, but we know they don't believe you.
No one would.
No one ever will.
I mean really,
Who would ever believe your old dolls tried to kill you?
And now we sit here, watching them take you home, saying how you need some rest, how you must have just seen things. But you don't believe them. But later, much later, you do. You start to doubt your own eyes, saying to yourself that you just imagined the whole thing. You believe that. You forget everything that happened that day. Go ahead, forget. But don't think we won't And don't think we won't try again.