I stepped foot into the room. From the opposite side, sunlight peeped through holes in moth-eaten drapes. Struggling to see, I searched the wall beside the door for a switch. Got it! I flicked the switch. Either the bulb had burnt out or the switch was broken, either way the shadows were not going to be repelled by technology. Luckily the light from the hall reached in a fair distance.

The first thing I noticed were the cardboard boxes. Quite hard not to since they seemed to cover every inch of this room. Anywhere they could be placed, they would be placed. Maybe the owner used this as general storage? Since the drapes were in such poor condition and the rest of the house was so pristine, I doubt anyone used this room much. I walked up to the closest stack of boxes, ready to open the top one up.

SLAM!

I practically jumped into the tower of boxes causing the topmost box to plummet to the floor, throwing up its contents upon impact. “Fuck!” Hiding behind the shield of my own petrified fists I turned around. The door that I had left open just moments ago had somehow shut on its own. Whatever. Might as well get those drapes open to get some light in here. Seeing as how there wasn’t any rhyme or reason to the placement of the boxes, a clear walkway was never created. Choosing an opening on my right I squeezed myself through the opening and ventured forth.

Making my way through the cardboard-infestation wasn’t terribly difficult. By the time I made it halfway across my eyes had adjusted enough to where I could see pretty clearly in the pin-prick lit room. Circling the room just beneath the ceiling was a light green wallpaper border filled with balloons of every color. The walls themselves were a matted tan. Floating shelves of various lengths and sizes adorned the walls. Uniformity was definitely not a priority of the designer as the shelves were installed at random heights, some having shelves above or below them, some completely on their own.

I looked at the shelf closest to me. An assortment of toys huddled up against each other as if they were in a tundra and clinging to each other for heat. Close to the center was a teddy bear, worn down by years of love and missing a button-eye, slouched with its back against the wall. Leaning against it was a stiff wooden doll painted to look like a policeman. Below the brim of its hat was a small nose and an overly large smile. I shuddered at just the thought of the thing turning its head.

Next to the policeman was a jack-in-the-box. Whoever played with it last never reset it. The clown sat upon its spring with its arms spread wide. The clown wore a light blue polka dotted costume and matching hat. A small rim of extra fabric from the costume hung around its neck like a ratty collar. Thick white fabric gave the clown’s face and hands a ghastly appearance. A red plastic ball nose sat between alert oval eyes and a painted on red smile that looked more like a deflated tube tire held up from two points than a mouth.

The box itself had a strange design. It was painted with thick orange and yellow horizontal lines, and thin white vertical stripes. Such an odd pattern. I narrowed my eyes and leaned in for a better look. No, those weren’t painted on stripes; they were scratches. Looking closer I could see that even the corners on the top of the box had been scraped of paint and slightly dulled. While the lid was no where to be seen, the delicate crank on the box’s side was still intact. “I am so sorry buddy.” I cooed apologetically for the Hell that this toy must have gone through during playtime.

After slithering through a few more stacks of boxes I finally stepped foot into a clearing. Roughly three feet of space existed between myself and the drapes. With vigor I grasped the hanging cloth and freed the light from its mask. Dust rained upon me and I covered my mouth as I began to cough. Despite my best efforts of fanning the space before me, specks of dust reluctantly hung in the air and shined like dancing fairies in the light. I turned around and faced the room. To my left was a child’s bed; completely covered by boxes. A barren mattress held up by an aged wooden frame. A rounded spiral groove ran up the legs of the frame and continued up into a connecting arch to create the headboard.

To my right sat a gorgeous doll house. Three stories high, with a wooden facade painted dazzling white. The scalloped roof and trim were the color of fresh pink azaleas. I squealed as I ran over and dropped down in front of it. The details on it were exquisite. A small platform beneath the front door had a glued-on doormat. Guarding the enteance were two pillars supporting a small pink awning. Using a fingernail I picked at one of the first story windows. Gingerly I moved the two panes aside and hunched over for a better look.

In a dainty kitchen with yellow wallpaper sat a family of four dolls at a kitchen table. Dad, mom, daughter, and son all looked like they were a cookie cutter family from the 1950’s: wearing bright smiles and Sunday's finest. In the middle of the table was a small chocolate cake decorated with blue ribbons of icing.

I pulled the doll house away from the wall and spun it around. While not nearly as intricate as the front, the back was made up of two rectangular doors. I undid a small metal latch holding the doors together and opened up the house. While the exterior was the same white as the facade, the interior was painted in rectangular sections that aligned with their respective rooms in the house when closed. I immediately saw the yellow rectangle that was the backdrop of the kitchen and my eyes were pulled to where the happy family sat.

The scene was in disarray. The mother and son were barely in their chairs, the daughter was under the table, and the father was in the corner of the room. I pursed my lips. Definitely spun the house a bit too fast. I resituated the three at the table and reached in for the dad. “Ouch!” I yanked my hand back. A small bead of red formed on the tip of my finger. I sucked on my finger and looked around the kitchen for where I could have gotten pricked on. The only thing I could see was the kitchen counter’s corner.

After grabbing the father with a lot more care, I set him back up with his chair at the table. The cake wasn’t too hard to find and that too was back in its previous spot. A childlike smile appeared as an idea popped into my head. Instinctively I reached for one of the hanging cabinets. Inside was a messy pile of miniature plates. I fingered out four and placed one in front of everyone.

Happy with the kitchen, my curiosity had me admiring the rest of the doll house. The jewel of the house was the library on the second floor. Beautiful dark-wood bookshelves filled with miniature books took up the majority of the wallspace. Anyspot unclaimed by the shelves was painted rich red. A large ornate mirror hung in the center, while small paintings of people and scenes found home in other openings. Two lavish red chairs sat angled with their backs to one of the two corners in the room.

Each room had a working door so the inhabitants could move about the house. It truly was a gorgeous piece. The center room on the first floor was a fairly simple entranceway. A long violet foyer cabinet sat to the right of the door. Aside from the wood floor, the room screamed purple. The purple seemed to be at war with the bright yellow of the adjoined kitchen. A staircase on the left side of the entranceway led up to the floor above. Disconnected, house dwellers would need to climb the stairs, walk toward the opening in the dollhouse, then climb an additional staircase to reach the third floor.

Compared to the rest of the house, the third floor was bland. Two bedrooms and a small bathroom with a curtained tub. The parents’ room looked to be at the top of the stairs, while the kids’ room and the bathroom framed it. On one of the two beds in the kids room stood a small plastic brown cat.

Forever frozen in a walking stance, the head looked like it could be raised and lowered. I picked up the cat. Around its neck was a thin blue collar adorned with an extremely small key. I lowered its head and placed it on the kitchen table with its nose poking the cake. I chuckled to myself as I closed up the doll house. Remembering the disarray caused by the movement last time, I rotated the house slowly and slid it back against the wall. I bent down to look into the kitchen and smiled, the family and cat were still in place. Nice.

I stood up and dusted my pants off. I walked back over to the window and looked out at the frozen forest. The world outside was still, not even the wind danced amongst the foliage. The sight of a deer would have been picturesque, but that blessing seemed to be holding out for another time. Disappointed I let out sad huff.

That’s the moment I heard it. A child’s laughter. I spun around. “Oh I didn’t know you were in here.” Expecting to see a little one standing behind me, I was greeted only by the towers of boxes. Again the child giggled. Maybe they were shy?

I wormed through the boxes in the direction of the giggles. “My name’s Kayla,” I said with a playful smile, “what’s your name?” The sound of something hard being slowly dragged across the floor gave away their location. I bit my lower lip and crouched down. Moving as quietly as I could I moved toward them until the scraping noise was just two piles ahead of me.

“I found you!” I said playfully. The child giggled and the scraping sound moved its way toward the edge. I prepared a friendly smile in preparation. As the source of the giggling appeared from behind the boxes, my smile faded. Two small white hands were the first to appear, followed by the point of a blue polka dotted sock hat. The stark white face of the jack-in-the-box was tilted toward the floor. A small arm reached forward, dug its fingers into the floor, and pulled the rest of the body forward.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

My heart began to race as the head turned toward me, revealing the red plastic nose and hideous painted-on smile. As it rounded the corner, I realized what that scraping sound was. At the end of the extended coil that trailed behind it like a metal intestine is the wooden box. Each time the jester pulled itself forward the box behind it would drag across the old wooden floor. The child’s giggle erupted from the toy causing my nerves to finally give in and scream.

I shoved and swam my way through the boxes toward the door. Despite the clatter of the falling boxes I could still clearly hear that horrifying giggle. The scrapping of the wood seemed to disappear. I looked behind myself in hopes that it would be trapped on the other side of the chaos, but found that it was quickly crawling over the cardboard rubble toward me. I stumbled out of the boxes and nearly face planted the door. I grabbed the door knob and practically ripped the door off its hinges. I rushed into the hallway.

“Ugh!” The air from my lungs was forced out of me as I ran into a heavy piece of wooden furniture. I don’t remember anything like this being out in the hall. I didn’t have time to ponder the prior existence of hallway furniture. I spun around just as the jester’s box clattered to the floor from clearing the disaster zone. I reached in and closed the door as quickly as I could. Still facing the door I slowly walked backwards. There was no way that that thing could reach the doorknob…right?

It took only a few steps backwards to realize something was wrong. The hallway wasn’t this wide. My eyes darted around the room before me. Nor this purple. The house’s wallpaper was definitely brown. From the foyer cabinet to the paintings on the walls, they all looked familiar. My hands cupped my mouth. Oh no… oh no no no no no no. I looked to my right and saw a doorway.

The next room had bright yellow walls. Tears started to run down my face. As I continued to walk backwards the table came into view. Sitting around the table, just as I had left them, was the Sunday’s finest family. The brown plastic cat still on top of the table with its nose resting against the toy chocolate cake. I entered the room and approached the closest window. A dark brown wooden field coated in fluffy white powder gave way to flat factory-pressed cardboard mountains that reached to the heavens.

Tears rolled down my face. How can this be happening? How can I be in the dollhouse? I turned back around and gasped. The cat that was previously standing on the table now lay on its side. Three of its legs had gone missing, along with its head. A new red puddle cradled the mutilated toy. I forced myself to approach the table. With a shaky hand I touched the puddle. My fingers came back red. I looked up at the family. Each of their mouths were slathered in the same red liquid that resided on the table.

My jaw went slack. I looked down to the cat then back up at the family and screamed. All four of their heads now faced in my direction. I ran out of the room and grabbed the door. I readied myself to kick the creepy toy on the other side clear across the room. I ripped open the door and froze.

No jack-in-the-box in sight, only a wooden field coated in white fluff. I looked behind me to see if the family had followed me. The room behind me and the door to the kitchen were clear. I took a step back and closed the door. I reopened it and looked out. No change. “Come on!” I screamed. I repeated this over and over, praying for that stupid jester to appear in front of me.

“FUCK!”

I shoved the door open and stormed outside. The deep grooves in the wood nearly tripped me. I caught myself and turned around. The doll house was massive and towered over me. Every detail on the house that I found so cute just minutes ago now became an ominous shadow. From where I stood I could see into the kitchen. The family was still at the table, their heads now faced back toward their feast.

No way I was going back in there. I raised my arms and ran my nails down the back of my head. This is insane. I was just running away from a toy and now I’m the size of a toy. This is insane. I looked down to the giant pieces of dust before me. I’m dreaming…I have to be dreaming. I’m still laying on the couch sound asleep.

The comfort of the realization helped calm my nerves a little. I heard in a documentary that if you were dreaming and the dream was not going the way you wanted, change the narrative and your brain will adjust. I nodded to myself. This is a dream and I can do this.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I shook my hands and re-entered the house. I approached the head of the table. Blood from the now missing cat had reached the edge of the table and dripped onto the floor and legs of the family members. I went to reach for the cake but paused. I had a better idea. I walked over to the cabinets and grabbed a plate. A knife had to be here. After rummaging through a few cabinets I managed to find an awkwardly large fork and knife. I walked back over to the head of the table and set a place for myself. “Hmm.” I furrowed my brow then walked to the opposite side of the house. I soon returned lugging a similar-styled chair that I found. I scooted myself in and smiled at my hosts.

“Can someone pass me the cake?”

No one moved. No worries. I leaned forward and reached for the cake. A few failed attempts with my fingertips was all it took until I was able to get a grip on the cake. Happy with myself I picked up the knife and angled it just right then pushed down into it.

I frowned. The cake was completely solid. I turned my head toward the little boy sitting closest to me on my left. His head was turned toward me. His permanent teeth-baring smile coated in blood. I looked down towards my plate. The pool of blood now partially surrounded the white disk. I lowered my arm back to the table but felt resistance. The hand of the little girl on my right was wrapped tightly around my wrist. I tried to free myself. The wooden hand was unyielding.

To my horror the girl’s grip on me began to tighten. I yelped out as I could feel the strain in my bones. I looked up and saw that the mother and father were no longer in their chairs. The mother had begun to crawl onto the table. The father was nowhere to be seen. I frantically began to scrape at the girl’s hand, trying to find any purchase on it. My efforts only put scratches into the wood.

Strain exploded into anguish beneath her grip. The fight from the gripped hand completely ceased as the strained bones shattered. I could barely breathe as I screamed from the pain.

I grabbed the knife and tried to stab the girl’s arm. The knife only cracked against the surface. I tried to saw through but the teeth on the knife were as round as could be. I looked back toward the mother who was now entirely on the table and reaching toward me.

My heart felt like it would break through my chest. “Let go of me!” I screamed out as I shut my eyes and thrust the knife toward the girl’s face. Immediately I felt her grip cease. I opened my eyes and the little girl’s arms were both in the air, her head thrown back, and the knife sticking out of her left eye. The same blood from the table now oozed from the wound.

I pushed myself away from the table and ran into the entryway. Blocking the door was the father. I looked toward the kitchen and the mother had cleared the table and the boy was just feet from the doorway. Without any other option I ran to the stairs and sprinted up them.

As soon as I reached the top I looked behind me. The family congregated at the bottom of the stairs. The girl stood in the back, the knife still lodged in her head. To my left was a small sitting room, to my right along the wall was a closed door. I ran to it and pulled with all my strength on it. It wouldn’t budge. I looked back toward the staircase and the father’s head and shoulders were visible.

I pushed forward and the door immediately swung open. I practically dove through and shut the door behind me. Pressing my back to it I looked around the room. I was in the library. I looked for something to block the door. Just a few feet in front of me was one of the chairs. With my hand still pressed to the door, I grabbed the chair and pulled it toward me. Unlike the chairs in the kitchen, this felt immensely heavier. When the pounding began I was still trying to pull the chair to me.

Holding the door back was a challenge in itself. Combined with moving the chair, I felt like a character in a movie. I screamed out as I pulled with all my might. The chair legs screeched across the floor. Doing my best to hold the door closed with one hand I shimmied around the chair and lodged the chair against it as best as I could.

The door shook with the family’s pounding. The intensity of each strike could be felt by my eardrums. Remembering the second chair I ran to it and dragged it over. Huffing, I pushed it against the other chair. Unrelenting, the family continued to pound. With nothing left to barricade the door with, I walked backwards until I hit a wall. Sinking to the floor I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

I could feel the wall behind me reverberate with each of their strikes. It didn’t take long for the books to start falling off their shelves. I screamed and covered my head as the first book came crashing down on top of me. As the books hit the floor some managed to open and lay exposed for all to see. The bright red lettering caught my eye. At my feet one of the books lay open. Written across the pages was my name. I grabbed the book and flipped through the book.

KAYLA

KAYLA

KAYLA

KAYLA

I threw the book aside and grabbed another book. My name was sprawled across its pages as well. “No no no no this can’t be happening!” Book after book I rummaged through just to see my name in each of them as well.

A loud cracking noise tore my attention from the books. A large crack had formed in the door and grew longer with each passing second. I couldn’t stay here. I looked around. The only other way out was through the windows. I picked myself up and ran to the nearest window. The windows flung up and I looked down. The height was a bit daunting. C’mon Kayla, this is only a few inches in height. I looked down again. But at this size, those few inches are a long way down.

I had trouble just jumping from the diving board a few feet above the pool in high school, this was too much. I can fight off the family. Wood hit the floor and I turned my head toward the door. A corner of the door had completely broken off and I could see half the face of the mother; her unmoving smile now took on a sinister light. “Nope.” I put my hands on the windowsill and lifted myself up. Swinging both legs over until I was sitting I twisted myself and lowered myself down as my arms could stretch. The screeching of furniture from the room above me was my signal to let go.

While my feet hit the ground first, my ass was a close second. I picked myself up from the ground, picked a direction, and started running. I wasn’t sure if they would follow, but I needed to get as far away from the wooden family as quickly as I could. Over my shoulder I could see the family of four watching me from the window I leapt from. The son and daughter in front and the parents in back; knife still protruding from the daughter’s eye.