Cody found it hard to run at the best of times. With tears blurring his vision and his lungs already straining with sobs- well, let’s just say that he wasn’t doing great.

But he pushed himself to keep running. His thin little legs ached with each step, the impact of his feet hitting the pavement vibrating up his bones. His arms were in agony as they pumped back and forth, burning his muscles. But he didn’t dare slow, not even a little.

Come on, faster faster faster faster-

“Get back here you snot-nosed little worm!”

The words were too close, and from somewhere deep inside him, Cody found more speed. He ran faster than he’d ever run in his ten short years of life

It wasn’t fast enough.

Fingers snagged at the back of Cody’s red Spiderman shirt, gripping it like iron hooks. The collar cut into his throat, forcing him to halt so abruptly that he fell to his knees, hitting the ground, and he felt jeans and skin both tear against the tarmac. He cried out as hands wrapped around his arms, pinning him in place.

Then Jeremy Stiff stepped in front of him.

Oh no.

Never could you envision two boys more different than Cody and Jeremy. Whereas Jeremy was tall and already starting to build a muscled body, Cody was the shortest kid in class, and if one was feeling unkind, they might say he was on the pudgy side. Jeremy’s skin was porcelain white except for his ruddy pink cheeks. Cody’s skin was a deep, rich brown. Jeremy’s blond hair was short and carefully messy, whereas Cody's was long and night black and grew in tight curls. Jeremy’s eyes were a pretty sky-blue and had a twinkle to them that was guaranteed to charm any teacher. But if you looked closely, you could see a streak of cruelty shining underneath. Cody’s eyes were big, made bigger by his thick round glasses, an earthy brown, and were quick and clever and very, very nervous.

Especially as Jeremy smiled.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye, Cody?” the bully crowed. “Weren’t gonna tell me how much you’re gonna miss me over the summer holiday? Don’t you know it’s rude-” he kicked Cody in the face. Pain blossomed through him, and his glasses were sent clattering to the pavement. Drops of blood ran down Cody’s face, both from a bleeding nose and a split lip. “- to not say goodbye?”

His face throbbed, and he struggled to cover his nose or grab his glasses. But Ellis and Kev- Jeremy’s two best friends slash henchmen- held his arms tightly. He couldn’t move an inch.

Yeah, and you’re the icon of polite behaviour. “Come on man, just let me go!” he whined, but the trio of bullies just laughed.

“What do you think we should do to teach him some manners?” Jeremy said, giving Cody a lopsided grin.

“Let’s take his shoes, tie their laces together then throw them so they get stuck on a lamppost,” Ellis said.

“Naa, too much effort,” said Kev. “Let’s just shove ‘im in someone’s bin.”

“No. I got a better idea.” Jeremy wasn’t looking at Cody anymore. Instead, he was staring at the house the boys had come to a stop outside of.

Cody looked round to follow his gaze, then felt goosebumps chase a shiver down his spine.

They were outside Hardy House.

Oh crud.

Once upon a time, before the houses for miles around had been built, the area had just been wild fields and stretching forests. Only the Hardy House had existed, sitting in the centre like a spot of rot on a huge leaf. It had all been part of the estate. But over the years the land had been sold off, piece by piece, until all that was left was the house. It had never really changed, although the world around it had, and now it towered over the neighbours, sat in the middle of the suburban road. It twisted up and up like an animal's horn trying to use its point to scar the sky. It was built from huge slabs of black marble. Windows dotted it like maggot holes infesting an apple, watching its surroundings with suspicion. 

All the kids at school agreed that a house like that couldn’t not be haunted. Or infested with rats. Or hosting serial killers. So they were all terrified of Hardy House.

Jeremy looked back at Cody with a horrible smile. “That side window’s open. And I reckon it’s just wide enough to fit his fat arse.”

“No!” Cody yelled. “No please!”

Laughing, Ellis and Kev hoisted up a squirming, squealing Cody. Jeremy lead the little parade across the pavement, the long front garden, then over to the open window.

Jeremy paused just long enough to shove Cody’s glasses- now sporting a large crack over one lens- onto the smaller boy's face, upside down, before he and his friends shoved the boy at the window.

It was a tight fit- the window was not made for little boys. The hard wooden sides scraped and scratched against the front and sides of Cody’s stomach, ripping his shirt a little. But finally, gravity managed to snare poor Cody and pulled him, head first, into the room. He hit the ground hard, his forehead making a thunk against the wooden floorboards.

The world seemed to spin around poor Cody as he forced himself to stumble to his feet. He grabbed the cold wall to keep himself upright as he reached for the window-

Which slammed shut on his fingers.

Cody yowled in pain. The boys’ laughter was muffled by the glass.

Tears blurred Cody’s vision as he looked at his three sneering classmates. He pulled his hand free, his fingers burning and throbbing in pain, and he clutched them to his chest.

That was when the laughter stopped.

Kev was pointing at something in the room behind Cody. The other two were following his gaze. All three had gone wide-eyed and pale-faced. Then the three boys exchanged a look.

… They’re screwing with me, right?

Then they started to back away from the window. They did it slowly, as if none of them wanted to seem like they were running away. But the fear was obvious in their eyes.

Yeah. Yeah, they’re one hundred percent screwing with me.

…Right?

Cody stared at them until the three boys had vanished out of his line of sight. Then he tried to push up the window. He struggled and strained. But it was old and stiff- three strong boys could move it, sure. But one weak kid, all on his own, had no hope.

But still, he tried. He tried and tried until all hope had shrivelled up and vanished.

For a second, he stared forlornly through the glass. It was so light out there, the normal little neighbourhood bathed in the afternoon sunlight.

Then, hands shaking, he pulled his glasses off his face to turn them the right way round. The crack in the lens split the world into two pieces. The window was on the right side. The time-bleached, cream-grey wallpaper was on the left. The arms of the glasses had bent slightly so that they squeezed Cody’s skull just enough to make his head hurt a little.

He fought back the lump in his throat and the urge to cry again. All he wanted to do was to go home to his mum and cuddle up in her arms.

But to get out, he had to find a door or another open window.

He had to go deeper into the house.

And so Cody turned around.

He felt as if he’d stepped back in time, to a world of pastel patterned wallpaper and big, floral, antique furniture. And dolls.

The room wasn’t big, but its lack of furniture made it feel huge. In fact, it only had one fixture in it- against the wall to his left was a large armchair. It looked old and uncomfortable- something you’d find in the house of your least favourite grandparent. Its upholstery was a tepid pink, patterned with flowers. The material looked scratchy and unforgiving.

Scattered around the chair were toys- or rather, pieces of toys. Cloud-white stuffing and teddybear heads and doll hands were piled up high. The only item that was intact was a fairly large rag doll that was slumped in the middle of the chair.

Something about the toy seemed to draw Cody’s eye, and he found it hard to look away. It had pinky-cream skin that formed long, gangly arms and legs and an oversized, round head. The doll had a light blue dress patterned with daisies, little white pumps, mitten-style hands and frizzy red hair that was almost as long as the doll's body, tied up in thick pigtails. She had two big button eyes that seemed to be examining her legs as he head lolled on her soft neck.

The more he stared at the doll, the more he felt drawn to it. He almost took a step towards the rag doll. But then he managed to pull away his gaze. To look around.

The room only had one door, opposite the window. He’d have to cross the bare wooden floor to get to it, and even though it was only a few metres away, to the little boy, the space seemed to stretch and elongate away from him. 

Cody began to feel his heart rattle and dance in his chest, so he forced himself to take a few deep breaths. 

What am I scared of? Seriously? A room that’s a little bit strange? Toys that seem to have gone through a shredder? Or someone’s childhood dolly?

It’s kind of odd. But I’m not going to be scared of odd.

So he fixed his eyes on the door, took a few deep breaths, and began to walk towards it. His little black trainers hitting the floorboards with an echoing clomp, clomp, clomp was the only sound in the room. It made Cody realise how quiet it was in the house.

Outside there were birds singing, the sound of passing cars and the distant yelling of kids playing in someone’s back garden.

But in that room, all he could hear was one footstep, two, three, four, five-

And the soft shush of fabric brushing fabric.

Cody’s head whipped around to the armchair.

… It was always like that, right? Yeah. It must have. It must have always been leant back with its head against the cushion like that. 

It must have always been looking out into the room.

At me.

He didn’t believe himself, and without looking away from the rag doll, he blindly rushed towards the door, his hands grasping until they met the hard oak, then the brass handle. The doll didn’t move as he twisted his wrist, pulled open the door and ran through it.

His heartbeats blurred together in his chest as he slammed the door shut.

Cody forced himself to take long, deep breaths. 

Away from the doll, the calming lies he’d told himself were suddenly a lot more believable.

You’re being a dumbarse.

Imagining things.

After a few moments, he managed to push down the panic he felt in the last room.

But he was starting to wonder what was behind him in this room.

Especially when there was a sound, right at the very edge of his hearing.

A soft, light little giggle. Like a child.

He spun around.

If the last room had looked like it had belonged to someone’s grandma, this one looked like it was the room of the grandma’s grandma- their childhood playroom. The wallpaper of this room was powder blue and covered with a repeating pattern of images- a kitten pawing at a wind-up mouse, a puppy leaping up to catch a ball and finally a little duck wearing a straw hat. This room had a Persian-style rug, large and red and gold that covered much of the floor, and in its very centre sat this room's only set of furniture- a small but heavy-looking table and two chairs, both wooden. 

A lacy white cloth covered the top of the table, and laid out across it was a teeny tiny tea set, with cups and saucers, a jug of milk and a teapot, all made of delicate pink porcelain, covered in little painted flowers.

One of the chairs was fairly normal, if rather elegant. The other was a small highchair, like that for a toddler, and painted pure white.

Inside it was another doll. This one was made of cold, rosy china. Her heart-shaped face was framed by little blonde ringlets that hung down to rest on her shoulders. She had been put in a little velvet dress and matching bonnet, and she reminded Cody of the characters in his mother's TV shows, the fancy people that rode in carriages and went to fancy parties and said ‘oh my!’ and ‘gosh’ and ‘you cad!’ every few minutes.

The doll’s chair had been pulled up close to the table. Next to her delicately made hand was a teacup, positioned as if she was about to pick it up. As if she had been happily having her solo tea party when Cody had entered the room and she had been frozen in place.

Again, he felt the pull to approach the doll, but he forced himself to look away from her. On the other side of the room, past the tea party, was a door, just like before.

He knew he had to get there. 

His gut told him to keep away from the doll. 

So, careful to look only at the floor directly in front of his feet, he began to walk quickly around the outside of the room.

Again, his steps seemed uncomfortably loud, this time accompanied by creaking and groaning floorboards. To his frightened ears, it almost sounded like the floor was softly screaming every time he moved a little closer to the door.

Scrrrrrrrr.

The sound was softer than a whisper, and Cody told himself to not look at the doll. Don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t look-

He looked.

And, of course, the doll's head was turned to look at him.

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He felt like someone had reached a hand inside him and squeezed his stomach like it was ringing out a wet cloth.

He quickly looked back down at the floor in front of his feet. He made himself keep going. He didn’t want to run- he felt like prey in front of a predator, and if he ran, if he drew attention to himself…

It would force the predator to give chase.

So he kept going forward at a pace that was right at the edge of running but not quite. He was practically hugging the side wall of the room, and the door was getting closer and closer.

Scrrrrrrr.

He looked over again before he could stop himself.

Even though he had moved, she was still looking directly at him.

And her hand had moved.

It was no longer positioned next to the cup. Instead, it was raised straight out in front of the doll. As if it was pointing. At the empty chair opposite her. Inviting- or instructing- him to sit down.

He couldn’t fight the urge to run anymore.

He raced across the room, still pressed against the kitten/puppy/duckling wallpaper. He felt the urge to look back and the urge to stare fixedly at the door fight inside him but he kept his eyes forward, on his destination, and then he was there and he’d pulled the door open and he was through and he slammed it shut.

Then he turned around and met the eyes of a puppet.

Pushed up against the right-hand wall of this room was a large table, completely covered by a red silken cloth, so big that its edges pooled on the floor. Seated in the middle back of the table was a ventriloquist dummy. White wooden skin, black, short wooden hair and a black fabric suit, as if he was dressed for a fancy event.

His head was turned to look at Cody. Then it moved, cocking to one side, taking its body with it a little. Cody started in shock.

“Hello,” the puppet said, its wooden jaws clacking.

Cody’s stomach was a storm of fear and horror and nausea. 

There’s someone under the table. There has to be someone under the table.

Or…

… or the puppet’s alive. The thing made of wood and cloth is alive. And the other two were as well. And they watched me. With buttons and porcelain. They watched me.

But that’s impossible.

So there’s someone under the table.

Which… still isn’t good.

He broke out in a cold sweat. His eyes fixed on the red tablecloth.

“Hello,” the dummy said again. His voice was high-pitched and scratchy, like a kid trying to sound annoying.

“H-h-hi,” Cody managed to stammer out. “Um… how-how are you?”

“How are you?”

It was bizarre talking to a thing that moved but didn’t blink.

“Well, um… I’m… scared,” he squeaked out.

“Scared?” The dummy repeated. “Hello, scared. I’m Poka Poka Poka Dot!”

Once more, there was a door on the other side of the room and slowly, Cody edged his way along the wall, away from the dummy on the table. “That’s, um… a very pretty name.”

“Very pretty,” the dummy agreed. “Very very pretty. Who’s a pretty boy? Is it you?”

Cody swallowed a frightened whimper. “Uh- eh hem. I- I don’t think so.”

“It’s Poka Dot,” the puppet asserted. “Poka Dot’s a pretty boy.”

“O-oh. That’s… nice.”

“Very nice. Very very nice.”

By now Cody had reached the corner connecting to the wall opposite the puppet. He pushed himself into that corner as far as he could, as if it could protect him from the strange creature of wood, until he forced himself to keep going. It kept watching him closely. “Hello, Scared.”

It took the boy a second to realise what the puppet meant. “Um… it’s Cody, actually.”

“Hello, Cody Actually.”

“No, uh… um… never mind.”

“Never you mind.”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Mummy loves Poka Dot!” the puppet said. “She loves him because he’s a good boy.”

“I’m sure she-”

“Well, my new mummy loves Poka Dot.” Suddenly the dummy seemed a little sad. Its head drooped. It’s eyes dropped to look at the ground.

Cody took the opportunity to take a few quick steps across the room.

“Old mummy didn’t,” the puppet said. “She wanted Poka Dot gone. Poka Dot thought she loved him. But she made Poka Dot hot- too too hot.” The puppet looked up, making Cody freeze. “Too too hot and now Poka Dot got a smudge.”

The puppet turned his head to reveal a dark mark on the side of his head. It was long and dark brown and had a crack running down its centre. The way the puppet held his head meant the crack in the wood cut across the crack in Cody’s glasses, making an X marks the spot in the middle of the segment of blackened, burnt wood.

“Old mummy hurt Poka Dot. Hurt him bad.”

A hint of anger was entering the dummy’s words, and it made Cody even more nervous. “I’m… really sorry to hear that.” 

The dummy nodded. “New mummy’s sorry, too. Old mummy wasn’t. She wanted to hurt Poka Dot.”

“... Oh dear.”

“So Poka Dot… well, Poka Dot had to hurt Mummy back.”

The dummy moved- it lurched forward, landing on its outstretched arms. Arms a puppeteer couldn’t have manipulated. Its head twisted up and around in an unnatural position to look at Cody.

“You don’t want to hurt Poka Dot, do you?”

The scream hurled itself from Cody’s throat like vomit, and he bolted to the door. Behind him, he heard the wood of the dummy scrape across the table, but he wouldn’t look back, wouldn’t risk that glance over his shoulder. Instead, he scrabbled for the handle, shoved it open and fell through.

The next room was entirely filled with dolls. There had to be hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. China, rag dolls, baby dolls, barbies, dummies, teddy bears, clown dolls, even a mannequin in a wedding dress in one corner.

All seemed wrong somehow. Some were too perfect. But most were beaten up- with missing eyes and sinister stains, odd marks or facepaint.

And all of them were looking at Cody.

“Hello!” called Poka Dot behind him. “We have a new friend!”

As one, the dolls began to move. They lurched forward, some on teetering legs, some dragging themselves forward with their arms, but all towards the child.

For the first time in Cody’s short little life, he thought I am going to die.

“No!” Cody whimpered. “No no no, please!” He tried to pull himself to his feet, but his legs were too weak to support him, and he just ended up sitting in the doorway, back pressed to the wooden arch, knees pulled up to his chest. “I’m sorry, please! Just- just leave me alone!”

The dolls didn’t seem to hear him. They kept jerking, crawling and creeping forward. The air was filled with the sound of wood, cloth and plastic scraping across the carpet.

“I didn’t mean to come in,” Cody sobbed as tears and snot streamed down his face. “I’m sorry- please, just let me go!”

“Let let let me go!” sang a voice in his ear and Cody jumped. He turned to see Poka Dot was just inches away from him, dragging himself over the wooden floor towards him. “Don’t let me go! Never going to let you go!”

Cody screamed again, loud and long and filled with absolute terror, as the dolls closed in around him.

And then the door on the other side of the room flew open.

“Oh crap- uh- down! Down! All of you! Off!”

Through bleary eyes, Cody saw a woman stride into the room. She was short and stocky, with tight black trousers with brown leather knee patches, and a black vest covered by an open black and red plaid shirt. She had sandy blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail.

She gaped around the room, her eyes wide with horror, then strode towards Cody. “Come on! Off! OFF!! She clapped her hands loudly, and to his shock, the dolls scattered, making a beeline for a few saggy leather sofas, doll houses and big boxes he saw dotted around the room.

For a second, Cody wondered if perhaps- just perhaps- he would live to see tomorrow.

Then a wooden hand fell on his shoulder.

“It’s mummy!” Poka Dot yelled in Cody’s ear. “Mummy mummy mummy mummy-”

“Okay Poka Dot,” the woman said, bending down to pick up the dummy with such casualness that Cody felt his jaw drop. “I think you need to calm down for a bit.”

“Play with Poka Dot!”

“In a bit, sweetie pie, in a bit.” She carefully plopped the dummy back into his room and shut the door.

Then she turned to Cody.

The woman who could control the army of dolls was staring at him. Just as he was beginning to ponder on the phrase ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’, she reached down and grabbed Cody by the arm.

Five minutes later, he was in a surprisingly normal-looking kitchen, seated at a big table, with a cup of coco in his hands.

The woman was sitting opposite him, examining him with eyes that were big and blue and worried.

“You, uh… you feeling any better… kiddo?”

Well, he’d stopped trembling, so… he nodded. “Yes, thank you,” he said softly, his voice horse.

“Good.” Beneath the table, she was shaking her leg up and down, like she was trying to burn off some nervous energy. “I’m sorry about… all that.”

“It’s… fine. I know I shouldn’t have been in your house.”

“Can I ask why you were?”

Cody fidgeted. “Um… well… I, uh…” I was pushed into your house by my school bully because we all think your house is haunted. Which… it is? “Uh…”

After a few seconds of him stuttering and searching for words, she took pity on him. “You know, I worked hard to make this place as creepy as hell.” She leant back in her chair. “I picked it for the dark exterior, and I started all these rumours about this place- all to avoid this exact situation.”

He gave a nervous little laugh. “Heh. Sorry.”

She waved a hand. “No no, we were bound to traumatise an unfortunate child sooner or later. Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t find a crying kid covered in dolls years ago.”

Cody stared at her, a little gobsmacked by the casual way she talked about the sentient toys.

She seemed to pick up on that shock. “They weren't going to hurt you,” she said quickly. “The ones in that room are adoption-ready. And Poka Dot-”

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Cody said, holding up a hand. “Did… did you say ‘adoption’?”

The woman gave an awkward little smile. “Yes, sweetie. This is Annabell Carter’s Foster Home for Possessed Dolls. Biggest doll foster home in the county. Well… only one in the county.”

For a second he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. Adopting… possessed… dolls… it took him a second to remember how to talk, and a second more to pick a question from the torrent of them that swirled around his head like a whirlwind. “Um… are you Annabelle?”

You know, that might not have been the best question to pick. But it just had been the first one to fall from his mouth.

The woman chuckled. “Yep. What’s your name?”

“Cody.”

“Nice to meet you Cody.”

“Um, you too Ms Carter. Can- can I ask why… why you run a foster home for possessed dolls?” I didn’t know they even existed outside of, you know, films and stuff.”

At first, she didn’t reply. She got to her feet and reached for his mug. “You done with that?”

He drained the dregs of the coco, then handed it over. She carried it over to the sink, where a small pile of crockery was waiting. “Most people don’t realise possessed dolls exist outside of fiction,” she said as she pulled open a full dishwasher and started unloading it. The sound of thudding cabinets and draws opening and closing underlined her words. “Well- they don’t realise until their dead kid’s favourite toy plops itself down at the kitchen table for dinner.”

The mental image of that made the edge of Cody’s lips twitch upwards. “Does that happen often?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s pretty rare. But these dolls can last for hundreds of years. Like little Abby-Loo. I think you might have met her- the large-ish rag doll?”

Cody shuddered at the memory. “Yeah. How… how did she…”

“The doll was owned by a little girl who died of scarlet fever in the nineteen-twenties- at least as far as I could find out. She can be a little… testy. I think she was treated badly over the years. I had to do a lot of repairs on her when she first arrived. She likes to rip up other dolls, so I have to get her some non-possessed ones and keep her away from my other fosters.”

“And the porcelain one is the same?” Cody asked. “The one with the tea party?”

Annabelle nodded. “Yes. Rebecca was actually possessed by a minor demon escaping hell.”

Cody started. “A demon?!”

Annabell held up a hand. “It’s okay- many demons are perfectly lovely. Refugees from the underworld. A lot of the dolls here contain a demonic soul. And none have ever hurt me. But Rebecca- well, she’s had some difficult past homes. So adjusting wasn’t easy for her. We’ll get there, though. She’s made a lot of progress.”

“So… what about Poka Dot?”

Annabelle shook her head sadly. “Such a tragic case. In life, he was a pretty sick kid. His mum brought him the dummy. A few days before she killed him.” She sighed. “I guess the cost of caring for him was getting too much for her. I think she snapped. But poor Poka Dot didn’t understand. He thought it had all been a terrible accident. So he came back in the dummy. Tried to talk to her. Tell her he forgave her. And-”

“She tried to burn him?”

“You saw the mark?”

“He showed me.”

“Yeah. It was all… pretty awful.”

Poka Dot’s words went round his head. He didn’t want to know, but he had to ask- “Did… did he kill her?”

She pursed her lips. “He tried. It was all a very nasty affair.”

Cody mulled that over for a second. “Can all of them talk like him?”

“Only the dummies. And they can’t talk properly. They’re a little like parrots. They can only say words they’ve heard recently, or things said over and over, or things that are important to them.”

“You… you said dummies. Like… like plural? You have a lot?” He tried not to shudder at the idea.

“I have five. And eight porcine, twelve rags, six babies, four barbies, a bratz, seven plushies and a mannequin.” She gestured around her. “Thank god I found such a big place. Enough room for them all.”

No movement caught his eye, but just at the edge of the hearing, there was a soft sound like something was brushing against wood. “There’s… there’s not one in here, is there?”

“Well, um… well yes, there is-” his heart lurched and he squirmed in his chair. 

She held up a hand. “But she won’t come out. She’s hidden herself away somewhere. She’s not comfortable around people.”

“What… what happened to her?”

Annabell shook her head. “I don’t know the details of her death. But if I were to guess, I’d say she probably was… well, I think bullies were involved.”

Cody swallowed. “She was bullied to death?!”

Annabell paused her bustling and sighed. “I’d guess there was some sort of cruel prank that went too far. But that’s just speculation on my part. What I do know is that the family who adopted her- well, her time with them ended badly. I mean, honestly, they should have expected it. If they’re not going to provide proper enrichment for her, of course she’s going to start acting out. She was mainly kept in a wardrobe with no toys, nothing to do and no way to get out- this is why haunted dolls have such a bad reputation! People mistreat them then clutch their pearls when the doll starts to have behavioural issues!” She noticed him gaping at her and deflated a little. “Er- sorry. I’m just… rather passionate about that. Anyway, Emily- well, the big brother of this family was a bit of a dic- um- he had some… problems. A difficult child. He tormented his classmates and his little brother and sister. Well, one day, Emily ended up witnessing him shoving the younger boy's head in the toilet and ripping up the little girl’s book. 

“A few days later, the boy found he was being… well… bullied. Itching powder in his underpants. Things falling on him or being thrown at him. Things going missing. He thought it was his siblings so he bullied them more. Then Emily really kicked things into high gear. Words written in blood on the wall. Things floating. Voices in the middle of the night. Typical haunted doll shenanigans. But the boy apparently could dish it out but he couldn’t take it. Always the way with bullies in my experience. He went and told mummy and daddy. They tried to have Emily…” Annabell glanced around, then leant towards Cody, cupping a hand to the side of her mouth. “Exorcised,” she said in a whisper. Then she leant back and spoke normally. “Luckily a family friend of theirs got in touch will me, and I got there before the priest had finished. Ever since she got here, she’s been skittish. Shy. She usually hides behind the fridge. Although…” she was looking down at the floor by Cody’s feet.

Suddenly he felt a weight on his lap. He glanced down.

There was a doll on his lap. This one was soft, but more detailed than Abby-Loo, the rag doll. She was smaller and slimmer. The material of her body was a grey-cream colour, her embroidered eyes were big and brown. Long black hair was platted on either side of her head, reaching down almost to the skirt of her dress, which was black and covered in white little spots.

The doll wasn’t moving. It was, in fact, suspiciously doll-like. If he didn’t know that no one had put her on his lap, he would have assumed it was a perfectly normal doll.

But he knew it wasn’t.

At first, he felt every muscle in his body tense up. He forced himself to relax with a few deep breaths.

He didn’t touch her, but he carefully examined her.

“You know, I’ve never seen her do that,” Annabell said. “Never seen her just approach someone like that. Are- are you okay? Do you need me to move her?”

“N- no,” he said after a few seconds. “No, I think- I think I’m alright.”

Slowly, his hand shaking a little, he reached down and with one finger, he stroked her hair.

“I wonder why she connected to you…” Annabell began. 

But then she examined Cody. She saw his cracked glasses, ripped t-shirt, his torn jeans with scratched knees beneath them, the red front of his neck, the dry blood around his nose, his split lip, red swollen fingers and the bruise blossoming on his forehead.

She trailed off.

Just watched the boy stare at the doll and the doll stared at the boy for a few moments.

“Maybe it’s time we call your parents, huh kiddo?” she said at last.

Six weeks later, a dreary plague of misery covered children everywhere as they plodded their way back to school after the summer holidays.

But to Jerremy Stiff, there was, at least, a silver lining. Going to school meant there’d be other kids.

Kids he could beat the crap out of.

As he and his two best friends plodded their way towards the school, Jeremy spotted the small figure of one of his favourite targets- little Cody Creek.

“Oi, worm!” Jeremy called.

Cody stopped, turned, and Jeremy began to laugh.

The little dweeb was holding a doll. A little girl's dolly, clutched in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Jeremy snorted. “What, did your little sister give you her cuddly toy? Did she grow out of it and give it to you because you’re such a little whimp?”

Strangely, rather than run, like Cody normally did, he just stood in the middle of the pavement. Staring at them as they approached.

It was kind of creepy.

Jeremy’s smile turned into a scowl. “Hey, you know what?” he called. “I’m gonna rip that stupid little thing to shreds! Then I’m gonna do the same to you!”

To Jeremy’s surprise, Cody didn’t move. Didn’t run or speak or even burst into tears.

Instead, Cody just smiled.

And, in his arms, the doll smiled too.