Chapter 9
A giggle came from behind a tree. Dorothy stared at the eye. The glass eye. White and cold, it lay there. The crystal blue iris, it seemed to stare right at her. The giggle again. Slowly she turned around. A girl was standing there behind her, maybe five or six years old, in the middle of the road. She stared at her, a stiff grin on her face. Her green eyes pleered at her, unpleasantly. Dorothy backed away slowly. "Who are you?" she asked. "Do you know the way out of here?" All thoughts of revenge had left her. The girl tilted her head to the side, still smiling. "It's mine," she said, and giggled again. "What's yours?" Dorothy asked. "It's mine."
Dorothy glanced at the glass eye. Quickly she snatched it up again. "This?" she asked, clutching it. The girl stopped smiling. "It's mine, give it to me," she growled. She reatched out a hand towards the glass eye. "Mine!" She moved towards Dorothy slowly. Her hand was odd, Dorothy noticed. Her fingers were short and thick, and her nails were wide,yellow, long and bent like some sort of claws.
"No," Dorothy's voice was hard. "Not unless you show me the way out of here." The girl stopped and stared at her. "No?" she asked in disbelief, her voice thin and squeely. "No," Dorothy repeated. The girl blinked, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm cold," she mumbled. "It's mine!" Tears streamed down her face. "Give it back!" The girl's voice was no more than a whisper now. She kept on coming closer, and now Dorothy noticed something shining in the hand that was not reached out towards her, half hidden behind her back.
Something shiny and sharp... Run!
