I ran until the dollhouse was no longer in sight. Placing my hand against a dusty wall of this cardboard chasm I gasped for air. My legs ached to the point that sawing them off would have been a comforting remedy. The light that came in through the window barely reached these depths causing great expanses to be lit as if a single candle at a restaurant table were the only source.

Between huffs I tried to listen for anyone, or anything, following me. Other than my own breaths, it was quiet. I was alone. I allowed myself to sit until my legs no longer felt like jelly.

Once I thought my legs could move with a little less aching, I got up and started walking. As I reached the edge of a box I was able to step into the light. I turned towards the light and closed my eyes. The warmth felt fantastic, like a warm blanket wrapped around you during a thunderstorm.

If this was a dream, it felt damn real. I ran my hand over my right forearm. Normally the senses in dreams felt dulled, like a phantom’s touch. That little girl’s grip was something else though. It felt like my bones were slowly cracking. I shuddered at the thought.

Changing the narrative doesn’t seem to be possible. Dying wakes most people up from dreams. My head tilted back so I could look to the top of the cardboard mountains. Except most dreams don’t involve realistic pain. I don’t think I could manage climbing up these walls even if I wanted to.

A metallic scraping sound broke through the silence from somewhere up ahead. It would slowly go for a moment, stop, then carry on again. From beyond the immediate cardboard walls the source of the sound was impossible to view. Standing in the crossway wasn’t enough, I needed to see it.

Through the uneven halls I walked. Past dust bunnies and clumps of tape illuminated by the sunlight. Just as I was about to enter a new hallway, the light dried up within it. The scraping continued. I walked toward an opening on my left where the light still provided its warmth.

Just like the previous hallway, the one before me went dark. I ran past that opening and turned into the following one. Ahead of me I could see a clearing. At the end of the clearing a tan wall rose until halted by a wooden ledge. An expanse of sky held back by glass sat upon the ledge.

Before I could get to the end a large figure came into view, stopping me in my tracks. Hanging from the drape by one fluffy arm, a doll in yellow pajamas and red shaggy hair that ended at its shoulders walked forwards. Having traversed as far as its tether would allow, the doll pulled the drape to itself. A metallic screeching called out overhead. In horror I realized what that sound finally was, the grommets being dragged along the curtain rail. The sunlight that had previously bathed me disappeared, cloaking me in shadow.

As the last of the sky had been choked out, the doll released the drape causing the top half of its body to hang awkwardly backwards. As if a snake lived within, the doll quivered and brought itself upright. With a slight slouch forward it turned and walked along the wall toward the bed. The doll paused. After a moment it began to turn its head toward me. Its torso twisted with it until both button-eyes were visible. Something deep inside me screamed for me to run. Before the doll could make another move, I spun around and bolted into the canyon.

Through a suffocating blanket of darkness I ran. I didn’t care which way I took as long as it took me further away from the doll. Whether or not the soft footsteps behind me were real or fabricated by my fear-drunk mind I didn’t dare look back to reveal.

The door.

The thought flashed through my mind. I had to get out of this room. I didn’t care how. I could try crawling beneath it. If that didn’t work I’d claw through it.

My legs ached and my side felt like it was going to split, but I pushed through the pain. I ran until I was out of the cardboard maze. Despite the lack of light and the change in angle, I could recognize where I was. LIke a god the massive door stood before me.

Running across the wooden expanse I arrived at the door. I dropped to the floor to examine the gap between the door and the floor. There wasn’t a whole lot of room there. I layed completely flat and shoved an arm in. “Fuck!” Army-crawling was out of the question. If the door was just slightly higher I could turn my head and push myself with the sides of my feet.

I moved myself backwards and sat on my heels. Gripping the bottom of the door I pulled up hoping to rip away the wood. Without any give, I scratched at the door hoping to find any groves that could break away.

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I took a few steps back and looked along the base of the door. Maybe there were imperfections that would be great enough to create a larger gap? While not necessarily an imperfection, something else caught my eye.

Roughly 15 yards away, possibly a foot away in reality, was a smaller door that was more my size built into the larger one. I jogged over to it. It looked exactly like the larger door; it even included an engraving of a roaring lion head. I put my hand against the door and moved my palm over the creature. It was surreal.

I twisted the knob and pulled. I was hardly surprised when the door wouldn’t budge.

“Locked. Why wouldn’t it be?” I grovelled to myself.

I gave it a push as well for sanity’s sake. Just like the original in the manor’s hallway, a lonely keyhole sat right below the knob on the door in front of me. With my luck I’ll magically find the key and get even smaller.

That’s when I heard it. A sound that froze the blood in my veins. Maybe it was the tunnel vision caused by my wish to get out, or just simply the lack of light. The childlike giggle was right next to me.

I turned to look toward it. How did I not hear that damn box approaching? Holding itself up with both arms, the jack-in-the-box jester looked like an otherworldly predator. It angled its head down slightly to look at me. For a moment, we both looked at eachother.

The sound of fabric tearing was followed by a slit forming within the jester’s painted on smile. Flaps formed from the uneven tear folded over along the newly formed mouth. The slit didn’t stop at the edges of the mouth though. Both sides began to tear further until the tips of the slit nearly reached opposite sides of the jester’s head. The jaw began to lower to a sickening level revealing dozens of nail-like teeth. Bridges of saliva between teeth grew thin and broke the farther the mouth opened.

Before I realized it I was already running back toward an entrance to the cardboard canyon as fast as my legs could take me. The sound of scraping wood sounded far back, but that did zilch in telling me where the jester pulling the source of that sound really was. I looked back for just a second.

“Ooof!”

The tip of my shoe had caught the edge of a deep scratch in a floorboard. I hit the ground hard, biting my tongue in the process. I could taste blood. Despite the darkness of the room, I felt a shadow weighing down on me. I dug my nails into the floor and pulled myself back up and into a sprint.

To my left, I could see the destruction left behind from my frantic attempt at escape before entering the doll house. I had an idea. Running into the canyon, I looked down the hallways as I passed them. The first two wouldn’t do. The third one though looked perfect. I turned and prayed my idea would work.

In front of me a massive landslide of random toys and other rubbish had formed from the spilling of boxes during my escape from earlier. If the jester followed me up, maybe its box would get caught on something. I had to hope, otherwise I don’t think I could outrun this thing for much longer.

Traversing the pile was much more difficult than expected. Each step caused tremors from items shifting to a secure spot. My broken arm throbbed to the point that I thought I would pass out. Without my other arm, climbing was slow. Any distance I was able to make between myself and the jester had nearly been lost. The Jester’s giggle grew ever closer.

I reached up and gripped the edge of a wooden cube the size of a refrigerator adorned by a giant, raised, sky-blue “C” on the side facing me. I pushed the toe of my shoe into the rounded edge inside the letter. I lifted myself up and could see that an “A” was on the top-facing side.

In one motion I pushed off the ledge and pulled myself upwards. I released my grip on the edge and reached for the center triangle of the letter. I managed to latch on with my fingertips. As my momentum came to an end and gravity took back over my fingers slid along the letter. I could feel the wood grain running across my fingers. I fought to find hold in the crevice but my descent was unrelenting.

I managed to catch the edge of the block. Unfortunately my foot slipped causing me to fall until my arm went taught and causing my body to slam into my broken arm. The world became a white fuzzy illusion as pain shot through my arm. The force from my fall must have been enough to cause a shift, because the block started to tilt toward me.

Hitting the ground was a challenge in itself. The objects on which I stood barely could be considered stable. My left foot found solid placement. My right foot, however, did not. Tumbling backwards I roughly landed on my broken arm. Millions of tiny daggers plunged into my bone. If it weren’t for the pain, I might have had time to react to the cube that now rolled toward me.

I remember when I moved out of my first apartment. Large bins seemed like the perfect place to put my self-proclaimed library into. Their combined weight nearly drove me to tears when I tried moving just one of those tubs. This wooden cube felt like an actual library when its edge rolled across my back and crushed my legs as it continued to roll down the hill. Any air I had in my lungs was pushed out like the last drop in a tube of toothpaste.

The world spun around me. I could feel whatever I was laying on tilt to the left. The darkness seemed to thicken around me. I gasped for air but my racing heart demanded more than I could give it. This was all too much. A rotten smell filled my nostrils and coated my mouth. The last thing I heard before passing out was the whisper of a child.

“Found you.”