Horror Nights
I turned the light back on.
The scream that tore from my lungs wasn't human. The attic was packed. Hundreds of them. Not just my collection, but things that had crawled out from the eaves, from the crawlspaces, all wearing the faces of dolls I had never seen. They were all staring at the light, their pupils shrinking in unison, a sea of black dots vanishing into porcelain voids.
They didn't retreat this time. They flinched, but they kept coming.
"Don't look," a voice whispered from directly behind my ear. It sounded like Lady Genevieve. "It hurts to look."
Bab Populer