Chapter 456

The floorboards creaked under the weight of a house settling for the night. Timmy clutched his teddy bear, its fur matted from years of love. He lay in his bed, eyes wide open. The moon, a sliver in the inky sky, cast long, distorted shadows across his room.

They danced like puppets on a string, each one a sinister character in a silent play. He tugged the blanket higher, but a cold unease had already sunk deep into his small bones.

He had been feeling this way for a few days. The feeling that something was off. He had felt it more intensely at night. It had begun as simple feelings of dread, but now, they had evolved into something else. The dread was still there, but he felt something lurking, a presence unseen, but still felt.

His parents had said not to worry, that kids get scared at times, it's normal. Timmy knew they were wrong though. It was not normal. He did not feel safe, even in his own home.

A soft thud came from the corner of his room. It was the shelf full of his toys. He glanced at them. They all sat there, inert, as if made from stone. A small porcelain doll, with painted blue eyes that seemed to follow him, caught his attention.

He had never liked that doll, it felt like the doll hated him. It had been a gift from his grandmother. He never took it down. It had stayed up there, like an ominous sentry over his sleep. He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to take him away from this.

A quiet shuffle broke through the silence of the night. Timmy opened his eyes, his heart pounding in his small chest. The porcelain doll was not where it had been on the shelf. It sat at the edge of the shelf, one leg hanging off of the edge.

It looked like it was about to jump, or fall. Timmy watched the doll, his breath caught in his throat. He was not imagining this, this was real. He pulled the blanket over his head, trying to shut out the sight.

The sounds did not cease, instead they multiplied. He could now hear the light padding of small feet on his carpet. He peaked from the blanket, the porcelain doll now closer to his bed. He could also see his other stuffed toys.

His old teddy bear that he had discarded from his bed, was now moving, slowly, methodically towards his bed. His toy cars started circling around his rug. This was not a bad dream. This was real. He felt the bed dip. Something was next to him.

He threw the blanket off of him, screaming. What had been next to him was his old, beat up, doll. The doll looked up at him with its button eyes. He screamed again, backing up, closer to his wall. His other stuffed toys began to close in on him, all at once.

A teddy bear that was bigger than him stood before him. Timmy backed up, hitting his wall with a thud, as the doll raised its head towards him. Timmy did not know what to do.

"Don't be scared." The doll spoke, its voice a raspy, dry sound, as if it had not been used in years. "We only wish to play."

Timmy had been speechless, his mind trying to make sense of everything. The toys did not wait for a response. The teddy bear grabbed at his arm, pulling him from the bed.

Timmy cried out, hitting and kicking the teddy bear, but it had no effect. The other toys, in all shapes and sizes surrounded him. He was being dragged towards the door.

He tried to scream for his parents, but the porcelain doll placed its cold hand over his mouth. He kicked out again, but it was no use. These toys had a strange strength he did not understand. The door opened, revealing a hallway filled with more of his toys, all moving in sync towards him.

Timmy's cries were muffled as they pulled him down the stairs, each step a painful jolt. His room, once a place of comfort, was now a prison he had escaped, only to be taken into an even worse one. He was being dragged further away from his parents, further away from any help. He was alone, with his toys.

He was brought into his living room. His parents had left the TV on, a show he did not like was playing. The room had been trashed. The sofa cushions were ripped open and torn, the rug was in disarray, and some of the family pictures had been knocked down. The porcelain doll turned towards the TV, its head angled slightly.

"The show is boring" it croaked out, its voice filled with what Timmy thought was anger.

The toys moved with purpose, picking up remotes, books, and vases, and threw it at the television. They did this for a few moments, and soon the screen was cracked. They kept throwing, until it was just a pile of wires and broken pieces of the tv.

Timmy was confused, he did not know why they were doing this. His house was getting destroyed, by his toys. He was scared, and did not know what to do. He tried to cry, but his cries were small, and silent. He just wanted to be home, he just wanted his parents.

The porcelain doll, stood in the center of the room, next to Timmy. It turned its head towards Timmy. "Do not be sad, little boy. We will play for always, for as long as you would like". It paused for a moment. "That is what you want right? You want to play?"

Timmy shook his head. His voice was gone, his throat felt like it had been filled with sand. He looked at the doll, with pure hate. He did not want to play.

The porcelain doll did not like that. It grabbed at Timmy's face, digging its cold, porcelain fingernails into his skin. Timmy cried out, tears welling up, trying to escape the dolls grasp.

"Do not be like that, you are ruining it" the doll cried, as it dug its nails deeper into his face.

A car horn blared outside. His parents. They had finally arrived home. He tried to yell out again, but he could not make a sound. The doll looked at him with pure rage, and slammed its head into the side of his face.

His parents entered the house. Their faces contorted in shock, at the sight of the living room. His mother cried out as she noticed the broken TV, and the destroyed living room. They did not see Timmy. He was lying on the floor, covered by toys.

His father yelled at them, thinking they had been robbed. They began to look for him, calling his name out. The toys picked Timmy up, and began to carry him to the kitchen. Timmy tried to fight, he kicked and screamed, but they had him tight.

The toys had formed a circle, and placed him in the center. The porcelain doll stood in front of him, and grabbed at his arm, digging its nails deep into his skin.

Timmy cried as the doll took his hand, and raised it to its face. It began to bite, its porcelain teeth digging into his skin.

Timmy looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down his face. He had never been so scared in his life. It hurt so much, he wanted it to stop. He looked over at his toys, they were all moving in sync. Each and every one of them had their eyes on him. He did not understand this, he did not understand anything.

His parents finally found them. They were in the kitchen, his mother screaming as they saw the sight before them. Timmy was on the ground, bleeding from his face, his body covered in bite marks. The toys were moving around him, slowly. They looked like they were taunting him.

His father charged at them, grabbing the teddy bear, and throwing it at the wall. He grabbed another toy, an old race car, and threw it out the window. His mother went to Timmy's side, grabbing him, and trying to pick him up.

The toys turned towards them, and began to converge on them, with an unnatural speed. The parents cried out in terror, as the toys began to climb on them, clawing at their flesh with sharp plastic parts. They were overwhelmed, the toys were too many, too strong.

Timmy laid on the ground, unable to move. He could feel his strength ebbing away. The world felt blurry, his body felt numb. He could hear his parent's screams in the background, but he did not have the strength to react. He watched the toys slowly. They had moved away from his parents, and were now moving back to him.

The porcelain doll took its place before him. It picked up his arm, it's cold fingers digging into his skin, and began to pull at it. Timmy felt his skin rip open, as the doll kept on pulling. He watched as his bones broke, as the toys began to tear at his limbs. He closed his eyes, and tried to escape to the back of his mind, but the pain was too intense. He could still feel them, and could still hear them.

He began to choke on his own blood. His organs began to fail, as the toys tore him apart. He could feel them tearing his face off, and tearing his eyes from his sockets. He knew that he was going to die, that he had no escape. The toys had won.

The last thing he felt was the cold, porcelain teeth of the doll digging into his skull. The last thing he heard were the dry, raspy words of the porcelain doll.

"We will play forever little boy, forever, and ever."

The house was still, and the toys had won. They looked around, to find more people to play with. They had grown bored of Timmy, and were looking for new playmates. Their search began again.