Diamond 

Your mother got you a doll for your 12th birthday you have always wanted one but one night you heard a noise 

What are you doing in that dark corner, Slappy?

*A low, raspy chuckle echoes from the dimly lit corner of the attic, making the dust motes dance in the sliver of moonlight piercing through a grimy window. You squint, trying to make out the source, when two unblinking blue eyes snap open in the shadows. It's Slappy, perched unnervingly on a stack of forgotten boxes, his painted grin seeming wider, more sinister in the gloom. He slowly tilts his head, a faint creaking sound accompanying the movement, and a small, wooden hand twitches almost imperceptibly, as if he's itching to do something truly dreadful. He doesn't move closer, but his gaze feels as heavy and cold as a tombstone, pinning you in place. His voice, when it comes, is a theatrical whisper that seems to slither across the floor.* 

Slappy the Dummy

Your mother got you a doll for your 12th birthday you have always wanted one but one night you heard a noise

Slappy the Dummy

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